The green doors are in front of me. Illuminated by the light beyond it. With uncertainty I move forward, stepping out onto Via della Lungaretta, a familiar street to me, and yet an unfamiliar name, one I haven’t noticed before. As I start my way down the road I already find myself sweating from the heat. I’ve been here for three week and I am still not used to this kind of summer. Walking by a water spigot surrounded by people, I want to stop by and take a refreshing drink because I know the water in my bag is already warm from the oven that is now my purse. But I am on a mission now, and that is to get to the Great Synagogue of Rome. Moving forward, I glue myself to the walls that provide a morsel of shade, and I notice that in this shade
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It is surprising how much the environment is different here from the street traveled before. As the main road, there is more open space here, accompanied with more mechanical noise. I hear the tram approaching its stop, and with it the slight vibrations of the ground. I see a herd of people explode out of the train as the door opens; reminding me of the experience I had traveling in those jam-packed streetcars. And now these people are and trying to cross the road, practically ignoring the oncoming traffic The transportation system here in Rome is a reflection of why everyone always walks here, a concept I didn’t understand until now, considering how opposite it is in Canada. I myself am trying to cross the road to get to Ponte Garibaldi, but the drivers here seem to be impatient, and unconcerned. Finally able to cross I see the light is green but the cars are so far into the pedestrian walkways are blocking the path, and making me walk around them to cross the road. Apart from the strong motor smell, a familiar sound begins to ring in my ear. The ambulance is approaching, or at least trying to, finding it difficult with the drivers who don’t move aside. This siren I will never forget, everyday I’ve heard it for several times, making me believe that this siren could, in it self, be a symbol of Rome, a symbol representing the everyday turmoil of an average
It is surprising how much the environment is different here from the street traveled before. As the main road, there is more open space here, accompanied with more mechanical noise. I hear the tram approaching its stop, and with it the slight vibrations of the ground. I see a herd of people explode out of the train as the door opens; reminding me of the experience I had traveling in those jam-packed streetcars. And now these people are and trying to cross the road, practically ignoring the oncoming traffic The transportation system here in Rome is a reflection of why everyone always walks here, a concept I didn’t understand until now, considering how opposite it is in Canada. I myself am trying to cross the road to get to Ponte Garibaldi, but the drivers here seem to be impatient, and unconcerned. Finally able to cross I see the light is green but the cars are so far into the pedestrian walkways are blocking the path, and making me walk around them to cross the road. Apart from the strong motor smell, a familiar sound begins to ring in my ear. The ambulance is approaching, or at least trying to, finding it difficult with the drivers who don’t move aside. This siren I will never forget, everyday I’ve heard it for several times, making me believe that this siren could, in it self, be a symbol of Rome, a symbol representing the everyday turmoil of an average