La Scoperta del Giorno (Today's Discovery): Finding Community

 La Scoperta del Giorno (Today's Discovery): Finding Community

The latest in the now-and-then RST series, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or“discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

Most tourists seek community when they travel, if only a little. But it's usually in short supply. Your friends are elsewhere. Your temporary neighbors are not much interested in you. Whatever community one experiences inevitably comes from minimal interactions in commercial spaces: a giornalaio who remembers after the 2nd or 3rd day that your newspaper is "Il Messaggero." The barista who learns quickly that your drink is an Americano, macchiato caldo, and exchanges "ciao, grazie" with you when you leave. It's not much, but it matters.

We experienced something of a revelation the other night. It was about 7:45, and we were walking to a restaurant for the standard 8:00 seating. Earlier, we realized we were out of matches to light our portable stove, and while passing one of several mini-marts on the street I poked my head in and asked the proprietor what time he closed. 10 p.m. he said. I then asked if he carried "fiammiferi" (the Italian word for matches). His blank expression and furrowed brow revealed that he didn't know the word and that Italian was not his native language. When I blurted out the word "matches" and mimed the act of lighting a cigarette, his face lit up. No, he didn't carry matches, but he did have lighters. 

Two hours later, with a good dinner at La Vittoria (on Via delle Fornaci) behind us, we were again at the mini-mart, heading home. We decided to pick up a bottle of wine (a Falanghina from Lazio), a large bottle of water, and a small bag of M&Ms. While we were paying, the proprietor turned to us, smiling, lighter in hand, and asked if we wanted it. "You remembered!" I said, knowing I--we--had forgotten. 

He had remembered. He remembered us. He remembered what we needed. That's community. Community is memory. 

And that, obvious as it may be, is La Scoperta del Giorno for October 10, 2026. 

Bill 

Occupied! Liceo Scientifico Camillo Cavour (Cavour High School), October 2026

 As I write this, the protest movement is expanding rapidly, not only in France, but in Spain, Portugal, and yes, in Italy, where Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni has sent 500 troops to Milan, and asked the legislature to pass a law that would make parents of minors who do damage pay for it, among other measures. 

In Rome, protests began as school occupations and, at first, in only a few locations. Most prominent among them was Cavour, a Liceo Scientifico (high level) high school, equidistant from the Coliseum and via Cavour, where things moved quickly during the school day of October 6 (2026) and the building was occupied by early afternoon. There were incidents at a few other area schools, but Cavour was the first where the students (and some teachers, apparently) took over the building. Among the students there, one of the active groups was Osa (Opposizione Studentesca d'alternativa). The occupation began, by one account, with an action against a decree on anti-semitism, an action which included burning the Israel flag in the school courtyard. 

We learned about the occupation the next morning, reading about it in the daily newspaper Il Messaggero, and that afternoon we took the Metro to the Coliseum stop. There, we asked a policeman where the Liceo Cavour and the school occupation could be found. He had no idea. We located it around the corner on via Vittorino di Feltri.

The steel door we had seen in the newspaper was in plain sight, and it opened now and then to allow a few to enter, revealing people inside. 

A few young people, most of them male, were hanging around. 

A group of 5 or 6 approached us, our backs a few feet from the steel door. "Have you got a cigarette?" was the first question, the second "do you like Trump?" No, we said, honestly, "we don't like Trump." They asked where we lived, and then assumed that "Buffalo" was on the East Coast. In response to our questions, it became clear that several were not students of that school. They did not talk much politics, saying only that they were inspired by the French student-led protest movement. As a group they seemed somewhat aggressive, not quite threatening, pushing forward as we backed toward the school. We politely "escaped" their curiosity.

The sides of the building near the door were covered with posters, pasteups, and graffiti, some of it political: Osa. A hammer and sickle. Free Palestine. 

Cavour Antifa Brigata Pepe! several Osa posters attacking war, racism, imperialism, and Meloni.

"Contra Guerra e Leva Militare" (against war and the military draft). No Nakba. "Contra La Distruzione della Scuola Pubblica" (against the destruction of the public schools). 

One issue, not mentioned on the school walls but prominently discussed in the newspapers, was a recent government rule that no public classroom could have more than 30% of its occupants as immigrants.

Roman friends—a teacher at a liceo classico (the highest level of high school) and her daughter, a graduate of one of them a few years ago—discounted the seriousness of the student occupation. Based on their experience, they said such occupations were common in October and November of previous years (peaking in November) and that they were performative—essentially a ritual engaged in by first- and second-year students. A rite of passage, rather than a deliberately political enterprise based on current experience. We're not so sure, although it appears that at Cavour, and elsewhere, the protesting students were young. Time will tell.

Bill 

Another day, another market: Tuscolana III (Quadraro)

Inside the Tuscolana III market, the stands were attracting a large crowd on a weekday morning, the produce beautifully displayed, in all its colors.

We've written in the past about Rome's still thriving--or at least still standing--public markets, among them Trionfale (#1 as rated in an article in the daily paper Il Messaggero), Testaccio, Ponte Milvio, Piazza Vittorio (displaced from its place of origin and now called il Nuovo Esquilino, rated #2), even the older and smaller via Catania, and the still outdoor San Giovanni di Dio. We were a bit baffled to read about the market in 3rd place (Tuscolana III, pictured above) in terms of stands and stima--an estimate of what we're not sure, but probably annual sales, given it's in Euros. It has, according to Il Messaggero, 113 banchi or stands (to Trionfale's 247) and una stima di 12.4 million Euros (to Trionfale's E27.2 million),

It was a Tuesday morning, one of the 2 days/week (the other Friday, of course) when fish are sold. This display--one of several pescarie in the market--was particularly showy.

Tuscolana III also is called the Quadraro Market, which puzzled us even more, since we've been all over what we think of as Quadraro, and have never seen a market of this size.

Of course, we had to venture forth, find it, and scope it out. Turns out it sits in the middle of a neighborhood we had visited several times that includes Tuscolana I, II, and III. The area is about 3 to 5 miles--straight out the Metro A line--from the Centro, with housing for 18,000-25,000 people--enough to support a market. 

Externally, not quite so inviting. The Brutalist architecture reflects its origins in the 1960s. It opened in 1964. The neighborhood, built in the early 1950s, originally sported a spontaneous open-air market (featured in the Pasolini 1962 film Mamma Roma with Anna Magnani as a former sex worker who uses her savings to become a respectable fruit and vegetable seller).

Il Messaggero also bemoaned empty stalls, reporting 1 of every 4 stalls in the city markets are unoccupied. We've seen that--and likely more--at the via Catania market (between Piazza Bologna and the University), but Tuscolana III seemed fuller than that statistic would dictate. Until we looked more closely. It may not be 1/4 that are empty, but there are quite a few "stands" that now are dedicated to other uses.

Half a dozen or more banchi now sport tables and chairs, allowing needed spots to sit down and enjoy some of the products.

In addition to traditional stalls, there are stalls that reflect contemporary buying tastes.  One advertised the boxed produce delivery options that are popular in the US and the UK. 

Another had labels from meat delivery boxes, showing the international sources of their products.

And others tout their longevity:

Another feature of Italian markets is the labelling of the city where the product is sourced--not just the country, which is required by EU and Italian law.

The "Sicilian" broccoli is from Avezzano in L'Aquila (Abruzzo)
 and the cauliflower from Cerveteri, near Rome.

Italians also prize what Americans call "locavore," locally produced products: 

Here, the eggs are "KM 0" - "kilometer zero" -
meaning they did not come from far away;
the equivalent in Italy of locavore.

All the markets we've seen also feature other types of shops too:

A general store, a tailor, and a closed hairdresser.

We first headed to the market bar--expecting it to be as good as the one in via Catania. But it was in a dark and dingy corner. We went outside, to a bar across the street, where it seemed both market workers and patrons also were going. Then came back to shop.

Would you rather have your coffee here? with the wash bucket and mop, or....

here?

Cheap wine for sale--this may be the cheapest we've seen:

That works out to $1.20/bottle.

A final outside photo from another angle, in this one the letters SPQR, indicating it's sponsored by the City of Rome, and a statement "Tuscolano III market protects the environment":

And what about the name "Quadraro" and what we think of as Quadraro?  Let's say the area is very loosely Quadraro-adjacent, and save the explanation for another day.

Dianne

To get to the Tuscolano III/Quadraro market, take the Metro A line out to either Numidio Quadrato or Lucio Sestio and walk about a block south on via del Quadraro.

La Scoperta del Giorno (Today's Discovery): 2 Scoperte, steps apart, on a most unlikely street

The latest in the now-and-then RST series, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, "discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or“discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

One day last week we were headed "home" (Pigneto at the time) on the most desolate stretch of via Giolitti (it runs on the side of the Termini station), closing in on Piazza di Porta Maggiore. We were passing by the Tempio di Minerva Medica, a fascinating ruin, and one of Rome's least known treasures, probably because of its unfortunate location, sandwiched between a bevy of railroad tracks on one side, and tram tracks (and via Giolitti) on the other.

T

There, in the pavement, were two smallish circular designs, each with what appeared to be pieces of train track:

And that's Scoperta No. 1. We're not sure what we've discovered, but it is nonetheless a discovery. It pays to look down.

Just steps away, we almost walked by a business with a reserved, modernist sign reading "Tipico 20." It seemed the most unlikely place to come across anything that might interest us, and the name didn't draw us in—though maybe the modernist touch did.

Inside, we found what we actually did need that day—a high-level wine emporium, beautifully designed, specializing in the wines of small producers in Italy's 20 regions. A large selection of bottles are between 20 and 30 Euro. 

The sommelier, Lorenzo, speaking a lovely Italian we could understand, introduced us to several wines, and we chose one from the slopes of Rieti—not an area known for its viniculture. The mission of the store, he explained, is to offer Italian regional products only (the "20" refers to the 20 regions of Italy), most of them small producers whose products are similarly small runs, and that he doesn't expect anyone to have heard of. Later, Lorenzo showed us around the store—all kinds of Italian regional products, and a small outdoor space where food is served (it is also served inside). 

Tipico 20 has been open about 3 years. A real find! The 2nd Scoperta of that 28th day of September, 2026.

Bill 

Rome in Los Angeles: Urs Fischer at work and play

We've been attracted to Swiss artist Urs Fischer's work since we saw his first major American show at the New Museum in the Bowery in New York City in 2009. This summer, at his "YES" exhibition at the Jeffrey Deitch Gallery in Los Angeles, we saw more of Fischer—and instantly saw his connection to Rome.

Above is his Big Foot - obvious to anyone who has spent any amount of time in Rome, from the often-photographed piece of the Colossus (Constantine) in the Capitoline Museums. 

Next up - hardly needs a reference. Fischer's version is titled pietà (2014) - yes, with lower case "p." One version (then of 2) sold at Sotheby's in 2015 for an estimated $200,000-300,000.

Of course, the sculpture below could have been inspired by a column anywhere, but we like thinking it's Roman.

Titled the column, it's also from 2014, and I see the photo as 3 columns: one the vigilant guard, another the gallery's supporting column.

In the "let's connect it to Rome" game, we came up with 3 more - though Fischer and Deitch likely would disagree:

I thought I recognized the Rome Lupa (the she-wolf of Rome's founding story), but I wasn't sure about the little man poking an arm up her butt. The title is cat + blockhead (2014). Oh, well, good try.

And this? Maybe Gabriele d'Annunzio with his aviator glasses and a nod to Rome's nasoni. The title? Marsupiale (it IS in Italian) and supposedly (per the Gagosian - and they should know): the bust is a portrait of Fabrizio Moretti, a highly influential Italian art dealer who specializes in Old Master paintings. I've been hanging out with Bill too long, it appears.

Below - a wider view of the show. Many of the sculptures were from a 2013 MOCA Exhibition in New York City where Fischer had over 300 tons of clay delivered and then enlisted up to 250 participants a day to mold to their heart's desire. He and his studio colleagues later cast some of these into bronze (and sold them for a pretty penny).

Fischer's ties to Rome are strong. He seems to eschew the usual fellowships. Here are 3 of his projects.

In 2013 Fischer staged a self-titled solo exhibition at Gagosian Rome. There, he debuted his famous Problem Paintings and Horse/Bed. In 2017, he installed in Sant'Andrea de Scaphis, a deconsecrated 9th-century church in Trastevere, Bliss (2017)—a massive, white-painted clay portrait of Katy Perry that visitors were invited to touch, sculpt, scrape, and break apart. Opened Sept. 2017 for 2 months. And last year Fischer returned for a massive dual-presentation titled After Nature at Gagosian Rome. And he installed a monumental sculpture titled Dance (2025) directly in the Villa Medici's historic Renaissance gardens. It opened in September 2025 for 2 months. How we missed those last 2, I don't know.

Dianne