I often find myself far from home, and in doing so, I look for community everywhere I go – no matter where or how small. I don’t even have to be part of it; just seeing it and knowing it's there is enough to give me that sense of home I so crave. After living in Rome for almost a month, I noticed that those precious moments of connection can be found in the most hidden, yet utterly beautiful, places.
A plaza at sunset: Rain is in the forecast, but no one seems to care. Laughter echoes, a soccer ball rolls across the cobblestone, and a stranger ambling by stops it with his foot. A group of young men, all seemingly strangers as well, beckon him forward, urging him to join them. He smiles, and the game begins.
In the heart of Piazza del Popolo (directly meaning “People’s Square”), the concept of strangers seems not to exist. I watched as two young men started out by passing a soccer ball back and forth, and slowly, they welcomed more and more passersby into their circle – to the point that a crowd formed, cheering them on as they attempted to keep the ball from touching the ground. Pure love and kindness exuded from the scene. A storm was brewing, but I had never felt more content to let the raindrops fall on me. In my opinion, they made the moment all the more beautiful.
Possibly my favorite spot that I have discovered while exploring Rome has been the Villa Doria Pamphilj. The largest public park in Rome, it is the perfect meeting spot for tourists and locals alike. People escape to its sprawling fields and, of course, the gorgeous 17th-century villa situated at the entrance. I witnessed strangers talking, friends having picnics, and the myriad people strolling down the paths, with most of them giving me polite smiles as they passed. Walking in Doria Pamphilj, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace.
Turning a corner, I stumbled upon a lively stretch of earth, with friends sprawled in the grass and an energetic game of ball happening just a few feet away. I paused, lifted my camera, and captured the moment. I thought of the men in the Piazza del Popolo, and felt such rising happiness at the fact that community between people seems to touch every corner of Rome.
I truly believe that one of the most glorious moments of my life occurred in the beautiful park of Villa Borghese. Upon entering the grounds, the sound of a trumpet drifted through the trees, melodious and enticing. I followed the music until I found him: A trumpet player sitting on what looked like an ancient slab of stone, his instrument amplified via speaker, giving it the effect of a private concert. He was like a modern-day Orpheus – people walked by, mouths agape, cameras out to record, often stopping for ten or twenty minutes at a time to listen to his music. Through my own awe, I felt connected to each and every one of them.
While I explored the park over the course of many hours, I witnessed the trumpet player’s effect on people. Particularly, this woman. When I first arrived, she gave me the warmest smile as she sat down on a stone slab across from him... and stayed there for three hours. Every time I passed by to take more photos of him (and I took a lot), she always acknowledged me and my camera, and she always smiled. I think she recognized that I, too, had a deep appreciation for this man who was bringing so many people together through his music. Leaving Villa Borghese that day, I knew I’d never forget the sense of community I felt in that space.
When reflecting on the idea of community in Rome, my thoughts always lead back to the Piazza del Popolo. That very same evening that the ball game occurred, a singer stood, barely thirty feet away, connecting with people in his own way. He sang popular English ballads, some lamenting, some sweet. But after every song, he would stop to have conversations with people in the crowd: Where were they from? What kind of music do they like? What’s their name? I watched people light up, ask him questions back, and the whole exchange repeated over and over, with dozens of people, each interaction more lovely than the last.
Ever since immersing myself in my host city, I have found that love and kindness are easily found, if only you look for them. I am eternally grateful to live in a city where the concept of strangers is merely an invitation for new connections and new friends.