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.

在罗马，沿着帕尼斯佩纳大街漫步的人们时常会发现自己迷路了，但丝毫不会为此感到烦躁。那一带的景色极其动人，圣母大殿的一角被包围在19世纪建造的公寓楼之间，周围是荒废的宫殿、帕尼斯佩纳庄严的圣罗伦索教堂，以及一些小店，如马塞拉里阿·斯塔克奇奥蒂，这家肉店出售某些罗马最好的肉类。店主彼得罗·斯塔克奇奥蒂，因其职业和热情的共产主义政治观而得到一个闻名于邻里的绰号“波尔布特”，他声称那些挂满了帕尼斯佩纳大街的葡萄是由他种植在小店门前的，形成了一道典型的罗马式街景。

这就是蒙蒂，罗马的第一个区——或I区，按照18世纪所安放的大理石街道指示杆所写——夹在繁忙的加富尔大街和民族大街之间，位于广场的东侧。即便对于游客们来说，它并没有某些区域，如鲜花广场和纳沃纳广场那么闻名遐迩，但可以说它的风格才更为罗马式：一个位于旧城中心的工人阶级社区，周边已渐渐高雅小资起来。在这里，仍有磨刀师傅每月来摆摆摊，同时，年轻的企业家们经营着艺术气息浓厚的书吧、复古时装店、有机超市和画廊。

在这里逗留过一段时间后，就足以让游客产生出抛弃一切移居于此的梦想。这种事情在我身上也曾发生过。我曾驻足于帕尼斯佩纳大街，且那段记忆永世难忘。当我2007年决定移居罗马时，我在山下的巴西纳大街找到了一间公寓，这条大街经由古罗马广场和可爱的蒙蒂圣母小广场之间一些简洁而迷人的街区，邻居家的客厅用鹅卵石铺就，带微微坡度，孩子们放学后在那里踢足球，20来岁的青年人边抽烟边打着手机，而老奶奶们则围坐在一起，就她们所推婴儿车里那些非凡主人翁交换照顾心得。

广场正中间是一个建于文艺复兴时期的简单双层喷泉，上面有一些眼神斜睨而风格怪异的雕像，一个不停喷着水的水龙头使得该地区的狗狗们都能喝上纯净的罗马水。我发现，四月为小广场带来了一个节日，在广场上可以免费地听到意大利铜管乐，吃到蚕豆，喝到大罐酒。去年一位知名的本地流浪汉去世时，一个带有蜡烛、手写悼词的自制神龛出现在广场上。

想象一下，如果能够搬到这个社区，在狭窄的百货店里购买洗碗巾和窗槛花箱该是多么惬意——这里出售一切用品，从牙膏到老鼠夹皆有——特别是当我发现那个健壮的罗马主妇店主就住在巴西纳大街，正对我家公寓时。在清晨，她穿着家居服，而我提着喷壶，隔着窗户谈论我那些无比健康的天竺葵。

在达·瓦伦汀，一间坐落于蒙蒂的奎利那雷山坡上的老式小咖啡厅里，一位和蔼的女招待照管着所有的桌子，每天中午供应一款简单的意面，这里挤满了银行和政府部门的工人；但肉类和鸡肉的菜式则更受欢迎，这些菜式的头道菜是一盘油汪汪的烤斯卡莫札干酪。

用完餐后从那里出发沿着博斯奇托一路散步是顺理成章的，并在蒂娜·桑德加特这样的设计和装饰小店停留，看看那些精细的复古风定制女装；法比奥·皮科尼巧妙地重新制作老款人造珠宝；今年社区里新开的小店Le Nou是由两名刚毕业的大学生利拉·泰斯塔和尤金伲亚·巴巴里开的，她们坐在缝纫机前缝制超酷的服装。

对于锋芒渐露的工匠技人来说，蒙蒂像是个蜂房。在这里没有古琦和普拉达之类的大牌。所以几年前当一间美国服饰公司在维亚迪瑟潘迪开张时，跟我一样被这个地方淳朴风气吸引过去的其他外国人心感不妙；他们害怕蒙蒂就像鲜花广场沦为喧闹的“派对中心”一样，即将走上毁灭之路。

诚然，蒙蒂正在发生变化，但旧蒙蒂的痕迹依然随处可见。在美国服饰公司的几条街区外，位于尼欧菲蒂大街上一处拥挤的底层工作室里，翁贝托·西罗在售卖真正的罗马旧杂货——破碎的相框，水渍过的灯罩和软呢帽。他坐在暗光里修补着停摆的钟表和风扇；他在墙角用一盏煤气灯为自己做饭。但在他的光辉时代，他曾是名成功的拳击手，在罗达斯工作，这是一间位于蒙蒂法兰治班尼大街的地下室健身房，于1901年开始营业。健身房还在那里，散发着汗袜子的气息，训练着像西罗先生这样的未来冠军。

在尼欧菲蒂大街的街角周围，几乎所有的门永远都是朝着蒙蒂圣母教堂开的，该教堂由16世纪时期的建筑师和雕刻家雅各布伯·德拉·波尔塔设计。居民们在集会时穿着他们的节日盛装，而当社区里的某人去世时，商店和酒馆都会关门数小时，以便店主们能够参加葬礼。有一年在复活节时，一位教区的牧师按响了我家的门铃，对我的公寓给予了祝福。

蒙蒂成功保留了其“久居静处”的性格，部分是因为这里有点偏，不是游客常到的地方，要从旧城中心其他更受欢迎的景点穿过古罗马广场才能到。而在这个地区的中心地带，也没有主要的旅游景点能够与万神殿相媲美，但并不是说蒙蒂缺乏有趣的景点。

圣母大殿，这个城市的四大教皇教堂之一，位于该地区的东边。罗马斗兽场和圣彼得镣铐教堂，也是米开朗基罗的《摩西像》的家乡位于南边。斯库德列美术馆从北方俯瞰蒙蒂，这里常举办重要的展览，如秋季即将到来的大画家菲利皮诺·利皮作品展。而西方边境则由一道坚固的石墙沿着多尔德康第大街划分开来，与古罗马皇帝奥古斯都、维斯帕先、图拉真和涅尔瓦的广场对接。

这堵墙被修建来将罗马帝国和蒙蒂隔开，在古时候这里是一个被称为斯巴鲁的贫民窟。这里的皮条客和割喉党早已不复存在，但游览九四大街附近那令人望而生畏的瓦伦蒂尼宫依然能让人感受到这个地区曾经的风貌。