Last Tango in Piazza Navona
by Sheramy D. Bundrick

[In the fall of 1996 I had the good fortune to embark on a seven-week research expedition in Europe, a American female grad student traveling alone. Before this trip, I had never been to Italy, and found it a most extraordinary and magical place. The following represents one of my favorite Italian experiences.  SDB]

Ah, the Piazza Navona. Without a doubt my favorite piazza in Rome. Sure, it's touristy, crowded, and lined with overpriced restaurants (don't eat at them--go 'round the corner to Via del Governo Vecchio for some good trattorie)...but it still has the certain something. I stayed nearby on the Via Sta. Chiara, and made a point of strolling through the Piazza Navona every day. I especially enjoy twilight--when the setting sun barely kisses the pink and orange buildings, and the streetlights are just starting to shine.

There's a grand toy store at one end of the piazza-- appropriately entitled Il Sogno (the Dream)...step in, gaze at the masks and marionettes, and start believing in la dolce vita, before the moon rises.

I especially like the street performers. Not the cheesy flame-blowers or the mediocre musicians, but the actors and mimes. Commedia dell'arte meets Fellini when these guys are having a good performance. Watch them cavort with the tourists, using the universal language of laughter as their interpreter. Street THEATRE is a dying art, so your time is well spent. So are your lire, when you drop a few coins in the hat at the end of a raucous 10 or 15 minutes.

I will always remember one mime in particular. He came almost every night to the piazza, but I always seemed to miss the show until my last two days in Rome. His act is simple: he stands motionless, like a puppet, dressed in a simple homemade costume and disguised in heavy theatrical makeup. A coin in the hat, and he comes alive--depending upon the music playing in his trusty tape recorder, he'll dance, or pantomime, or tease passersby (one of his favorite tricks is begging for kisses on the cheek from the ladies). I watched with a smile as he persuaded an American frat guy to play ballerina and do plies. The first time I watched his act, I threw a bill in the hat and graciously acknowledged the elegant bow I received in return.

The next night--for all intents and purposes, my last night in Rome--I went back to the piazza and looked around for the mime. I wanted to laugh heartily as my way of saying Ciao to Roma. I found him, and watched him as he pulled his familiar tricks, finally going up and throwing another bill in the hat. This time, he came to life for me, the lone American female, and as luck would have it, the music on the player was a tango. I'd never tangoed in my life before, but when he seized me, what else could I do but dance? I've got a theatrical streak a mile wide, so I threw myself into the part, adopting his intense expression for myself and trying to follow the steps with some degree of accuracy (heeled boots on cobblestones, though, don't make for terpsichorean perfection). He turned me, twirled me, dipped me, and at the end of the tune picked me up and whirled me around and around until I was so dizzy I could hardly see, and I'm certain I nearly choked the poor fellow with my viselike grip around his neck. When he put me down, I was only vaguely aware of the applause of the little crowd, so dizzy was I still, and when he bowed his thanks I managed a wobbly curtsy before he transformed himself into a motionless marionette again, as unmoving and stoic as the ones in Il Sogno. Before striding off into the Roman night, I couldn't resist blowing him a kiss, and in doing so I felt I was blowing a kiss to the city itself, a heartfelt goodbye and grazie for a wondrous trip, something out of a sogno.

The moral of my rather long-winded tale is this: Rome isn't just monuments or museums (and this coming from an art historian!). The magic of Rome sneaks up on you when you least expect it...be sure to take time to tango.

Copyright © 1996 Sheramy D. Bundrick
December 1, 1996

Questions about planning a similar trip? Comments for the author?
sbundri@emory.edu

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