蒙蒂

People sometimes wander along Via Panisperna in Rome realizing they are lost， but not fretting about it. The view is divine from there， a slice of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore sandwiched between 19th-century apartment buildings， dilapidated palazzos， the elevated Church of San Lorenzo in Panisperna and stores like Macelleria Stecchiotti， a butcher shop selling some of the best meat in Rome. The owner， Pietro Stecchiotti， a neighborhood notable nicknamed“Pol Pot” for his occupation and ardent Communist politics， claims to have planted the vines that drape across Via Panisperna in front of his shop， framing a quintessentially Roman streetscape.

This is Monti， Romes first ward—or Rione I， as marble street markers installed in the 18th century say—tucked between busy Via Cavour and Via Nazionale， east of the Forum. If not as well known to tourists as districts like Campo de Fiori and Piazza Navona， it is arguably more Roman： a working-class neighborhood in the heart of the historic center， gentrifying around the edges. It is a place where a knife sharpener still makes monthly rounds even as young entrepreneurs are opening artsy bookstore-cafes， vintage clothing shops， organic markets and galleries.

To spend time here is enough to make a tourist dream about chucking it all and moving to Rome. It happened to me. I once stopped along Via Panisperna and never forgot it. When I decided to move to Rome in 2007， I found an apartment down the hill on Via Baccina， which runs for a few brief， beguiling blocks between the Roman Forum and the endearing little Piazza della Madonna dei Monti， the neighborhoods gently sloping， cobblestone-paved living room， where children play soccer after school， 20-somethings smoke while talking on cellphones and grandmas sit together， comparing notes about the remarkable occupants of their baby carriages.

The fountain in the middle of the piazza is a simple， two-tiered Renaissance affair with a few leering grotesques and a constantly flowing spigot from which the dogs of the district drink pure Roman water. April brings a festival to the diminutive piazza， I found， with free Italian oompah music， fava beans and jug wine. When a well-known local vagrant died last year， a homemade shrine with candles and handwritten eulogies appeared in the square.

Imagine what a pleasure it was to move into the neighborhood， to buy dish towels and window boxes in a cramped casalinghi—selling everything from toothpaste to rat traps—especially when I discovered that the stalwart Roman matron who owned the store， lived in an apartment across Via Baccina from me. In the morning we discussed the excellent health of my geraniums from window to window， she in her housecoat， me with my watering can.

At Da Valentino， a small， old-fashioned trattoria on the Quirinale Hill side of Monti， a good-natured waitress handles all the tables， packed with bank and government ministry workers at midday， when a single pasta dish is offered； meat and chicken dishes are far more popular， with an oil-oozing plate of grilled scamorza cheese as a starter.

From there a post-prandial passeggiata down Via del Boschetto is in order， with stops at little design and décor shops like Tina Sondergaard for subtly retro， made-to-measure womens clothing； Fabio Picconi who cunningly reworks vintage costume jewelry； and Le Nou， new to the neighborhood this year， where two recent university graduates， Leila Testa and Eugenia Barbari， sit at sewing machines making cool couture.

Monti is a hive for up-and-coming artisans. There are no Guccis and Pradas here. So when an American Apparel opened a few years ago on Via dei Serpenti， expats drawn to the neighborhood for the same reasons I was read doom in the tea leaves； Monti， they feared， was on the road to ruin like party-central Campo de Fiori.

Monti is changing， to be sure， but traces of old Monti are everywhere. A few blocks from American Apparel in a packed ground-floor studio on Via Neofiti， Umberto Silo sells bona fide Roman junk—broken picture frames， waterstained lamp shades and old fedoras. He sits in the half-light tinkering with stopped clocks and fans； he makes his meals on a gas burner in the corner. But in his glory days he was a successful boxer who worked out at LAudace， a basement gym that opened in 1901 on Via Frangipane in Monti. The gym is still there， reeking of sweaty socks， and training champs like Mr. Silo.

Around the corner from Via Neofiti， the doors are almost always open at the Church of the Madonna dei Monti， designed by the 16th-century architect and sculptor Giacomo della Porta. Its congregation comes for Mass in their Sunday finest， and when someone from the neighborhood dies， stores and tavernas close for a few hours so the owners can attend the funeral. One year， around Easter， a parish priest rang the buzzer and offered to bless my apartment.

Monti has managed to retain its lived-in character partly because its a bit off the beaten path， across the Roman Forum from more popular parts of the historic center. And there are no major tourist attractions on the order of a Pantheon at the districts heart， which is not to say that Monti lacks interesting sites.

Santa Maria Maggiore， one of the citys four great papal， is on the districts east side. The Colosseum and San Pietro in Vincoli， home to Michelangelos “Moses，” are to the south. The Scuderie del Quirinale， a museum that mounts important exhibitions like the big Filippino Lippi show coming in the fall， overlooks Monti to the north. The western border is formed by a stout wall along Via Tor de Conti， butting against the forums of Augustus， Vespasian， Trajan and Nerva.

The wall was built to separate Imperial Rome from Monti， a slum in ancient times known as the Subura. Its pimps and cutthroats are long gone， but visiting the formidable Palazzo Valentini on nearby Via IV Novembre gives a sense of what the district was like.

在羅馬，沿著帕尼斯佩納大街漫步的人們時(shí)常會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)自己迷路了，但絲毫不會(huì)為此感到煩躁。那一帶的景色極其動(dòng)人，圣母大殿的一角被包圍在19世紀(jì)建造的公寓樓之間，周圍是荒廢的宮殿、帕尼斯佩納莊嚴(yán)的圣羅倫索教堂，以及一些小店，如馬塞拉里阿·斯塔克奇奧蒂，這家肉店出售某些羅馬最好的肉類。店主彼得羅·斯塔克奇奧蒂，因其職業(yè)和熱情的共產(chǎn)主義政治觀而得到一個(gè)聞名于鄰里的綽號(hào)“波爾布特”，他聲稱那些掛滿了帕尼斯佩納大街的葡萄是由他種植在小店門前的，形成了一道典型的羅馬式街景。

這就是蒙蒂，羅馬的第一個(gè)區(qū)——或I區(qū)，按照18世紀(jì)所安放的大理石街道指示桿所寫——夾在繁忙的加富爾大街和民族大街之間，位于廣場(chǎng)的東側(cè)。即便對(duì)于游客們來說，它并沒有某些區(qū)域，如鮮花廣場(chǎng)和納沃納廣場(chǎng)那么聞名遐邇，但可以說它的風(fēng)格才更為羅馬式：一個(gè)位于舊城中心的工人階級(jí)社區(qū)，周邊已漸漸高雅小資起來。在這里，仍有磨刀師傅每月來擺擺攤，同時(shí)，年輕的企業(yè)家們經(jīng)營著藝術(shù)氣息濃厚的書吧、復(fù)古時(shí)裝店、有機(jī)超市和畫廊。

在這里逗留過一段時(shí)間后，就足以讓游客產(chǎn)生出拋棄一切移居于此的夢(mèng)想。這種事情在我身上也曾發(fā)生過。我曾駐足于帕尼斯佩納大街，且那段記憶永世難忘。當(dāng)我2007年決定移居羅馬時(shí)，我在山下的巴西納大街找到了一間公寓，這條大街經(jīng)由古羅馬廣場(chǎng)和可愛的蒙蒂圣母小廣場(chǎng)之間一些簡(jiǎn)潔而迷人的街區(qū)，鄰居家的客廳用鵝卵石鋪就，帶微微坡度，孩子們放學(xué)后在那里踢足球，20來歲的青年人邊抽煙邊打著手機(jī)，而老奶奶們則圍坐在一起，就她們所推嬰兒車?yán)锬切┓欠仓魅宋探粨Q照顧心得?！?br>