No Eating Near Rome's Monuments

You’ve probably heard of the new regulation prohibiting snacking near Rome’s ancient monuments. It’s in place now, so don’t think of chowing down on a panino near the Pantheon unless you have 50 Euro burning a hole in your travel pouch.

The reactions coming from around the web are fascinating. The largest group of folks, as usual, are the people who think everyone is out to rip them off, and every government (except their own) involves itself in passing petty laws designed to make folks spend more money where they don’t want to spend it. In this case, you’ll have to spend a pretty penny at a cafe if you insist on eating in the shadow of the ruins of a civilization long exhausted—where the crap you generate will be cleaned up by someone in charge.

Jacy Meyer,if Foodie Alerts, asks:

But is this the best way to deal with the issue? Why not place more trash cans around the city and increase the fines for littering? And how exactly will police enforce this new rule; considering the number of not only tourists, but historic sites the city has?

I snapped to attention when I read these words. Suddenly it occurred to me: that’s what I like about Rome, the lack of a thousand overflowing trash cans around the monuments.

You have to admit, pictures with trash cans in the borders aren’t the most attractive way to capture the timelessness of Roman architecture.

And the Police, bless their Barettas, will do just fine. I like the personal touch. Rather than placing a sign with the picture of a tourist eating some nasty bit of fast food and throwing the thirteen pounds of paper that come with each sandwich in a mound that obscures just about everything within a thirty kilometer radius, someone in a spiffy uniform comes up to you and politely informs you of your infraction while tapping his enormous pistol with a manicured index finger. What’s wrong with that?

When I went to my first ardia di San Costantino horse race in Sardinia, held at the Sanctuario di San Costantino in Sedilo, I was looking for a trash can in which to throw the paper my grilled eel had come wrapped in. My friend Antonio kept saying, “Just toss it. Toss it on the ground. There are no garbage cans. They hire people to clean it up! You’ll see!”

Like no way man.

But sure enough, come Tuesday, I sauntered over to the Sanctuario outside of Sedilo.

It was spotless. There wasn’t the tiniest bit of paper. No eel heads. Nada. Niente. It was as if the event never happened.

The results were far better than the trashy honor system that 87% of people follow in the U.S. It was better than overflowing rusty barrels, too.

But really, why do people insist on eating near monuments? Is it some ancient substitute for usurping your enemy’s strengths by consuming him? I mean, do we secretly desire a paunch similar to the dome of the Pantheon? Or are we so bored while we eat we look for diversions to make it all bearable?

It’s a conundrum. Here’s my solution. It doesn’t matter how expensive that outdoor cafe is, a carafe of the local vino will cost about 10 times less than it does in a restaurant in the U.S.

I wonder if Roman folks come unglued when they see a bottle of wine they’d pay 2 Euros for in Italy priced at $35 in a restaurant in Des Moines?

And just try to take that sucker out onto the sidewalk!

No Eating Near Rome's Monuments

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