Cimitero Acattolico Per Gli Stranieri Al Testaccio

Some go for the pyramid, others for Shelley’s and Keats’ tombs or the monument to Gramsci.  I went to Cimitero Acattolico Per Gli Stranieri Al Testaccio for the cat sanctuary.

The perfume of the flowering trees and the oily tartness of the cedar and pine throughout make this a heavenly site indeed.  And, there are cats.

The photo doesn’t do Elsbeth’s blanket justice.  In the afternoon light it looks soft.

Belinda, I think, was a US starlet that died in a car crash, here.  Speaking of car wrecks, the tragedy going on in the background is the one Brit giving a tour to two others and trying to explain, in front of Shelley’s tomb, just exactly what is “The Grand Tour,” and its significance to the 19th Century upper and middle classes of the UK.  Shudder.

So, this picture of a cat shitting on a grave is more than mere analogy.

It was very hot, especially for a furry guy like this:

I spent a bit of time among the communists housed here, but that is holy ground.  Instead, here’s a photo of some fop and his little dog:

While I listened to the guide trying, here, to explain the Romantic Poets to his friends, this nearby angel expresses my own dismay.  Heartbreaking.

 

Other Testaccio Sitings

Some quick ones here.  Two streets, at least, in Testaccio have American references.

Britain is likewise evoked by this poster on the wall of L’Oasi Della Birra describing Italian cheeses.  The British map would be 99% cheddar with a small amount of Stilton dotted above East Anglia.

 

Fraschetta da Sandro, Testaccio

I would hate to be the one to spoil this place by making it less obscure — killing it with kindness — but few readers who know me would take my advice even if they found themselves in Rome, and there are too few others to really do any damage.

Sandro is a wonderful man with a sandwich bar stocked with wine from his family’s farm.  €1 a tumbler or a little less than €3 for a 1 liter carafe, it is decent plonk at 5 times the price.  The bread looks grand and he’ll put together a cheap sandwich for you (brush up on your Italian before going in or get one of the kids hanging out to order for you).

I came by earlier in the day, around 1:30, but he had already shuttered the place having taken in his lunch limit.  Still closed at 6, I was on my way elsewhere when I spotted it open an hour and a half later.  Seems he opened for an hour today with plans to close at 8…the Italian hour means we all finally said arrivederci at 20 after, but this was the local experience I hoped for (and hope never makes it into the tour guide books).