The “Social” Bar in Rome

First, I have to explain that a “bar” in Italy is not what Americans think of as a bar. It is not a place to get alcoholic drinks at night, where you meet your friends after work or dinner to unwind and finish off your night. Instead, it’s where you start off your day, where you grab a coffee and breakfast, sometimes lunch, and yes you can even go for a drink after work if you’d like. But essentially, it’s the equivalent of an American “coffee shop”, except it’s not a place to take your laptop and sit alone while you work quietly and sip on your coffee for hours on end. Sure, you could do that if you please, but it’s much more than that and quiet is the last thing you’ll find…

It’s Saturday morning and I’m heading out to one of my favorite neighborhood bars to get breakfast. I particularly like this one because they have a good selection of vegan croissants, “cornetto vegano” in Italian, and I’ve preferred this healthier option ever since I discovered it a couple of years back. It’s delicious yet light and doesn’t leave you feeling stuffed and bloated, like the classic version might.

I open the door to this well-lit bar, as the walls basically consist of floor to ceiling windows, and I’m greeted with two friendly faces that quickly yell “Ciao bella!”. One of the sweet girls checks “Caffè latte di soia?” (latte with soy milk?). I confirm “Si, bello caldo come lo fai” – (Yes, nice and warm how you make it). While she’s making my coffee, I admire the different “cornetti” and choose the one with fruit inside. The smell of fresh baked goods is strong and irresistible at this time as they’re freshly made there every morning.

I grab my coffee and croissant and head over to the booth in the back, my favorite seat at the bar. I take a sip of my latte and a bite of my croissant. It’s still warm and always nice and flaky on the outside yet soft on the inside. There’s something so comforting about the Italian breakfast – it leaves your tummy feeling content and satisfied.

It’s about half past 10 am and probably approaching peak breakfast time for a Saturday. While I’m having breakfast and reading my book, I periodically look up at the scenery.

People are continuously walking in, are always greeted with a friendly hello and smile, and some customers have a chat with the barmen – about the game, the family, the weekend plans, etc. There’s a lot of chattering happening in the background, coffee mugs clinking, people passing by outside and taking a look inside, and customers and the front door always revolving.

The Italian bar is usually a place where you have breakfast on the run. You walk in, quickly yell out your order, then have your breakfast in five minutes while standing at the counter. Some people may chat up the barista or the customer next to them, others may read the newspaper or watch TV, and a few will sit down and take their time as I like to do in the weekends.

As I’m admiring the scenery, a man walks in with a child. The little boy goes running to one of the barmen, hugs him, and starts telling him about his morning. The barman seems very interested, encouraging him and giving him feedback on his story. I imagine they must be related. That could be his nephew; in fact, the father kind of looks like the barman.

That’s the thing about Italy, even a big city like Rome: people are attached to their land and even their neighborhood. Everyone lives in the same place and usually has to have a good reason to leave. Therefore, you have families all living close together and friends from school still on your street so that you can see them regularly. Bonds are tighter here and this is a main reason why.

In my neighborhood for example, you can go to the bar, the pizzeria, restaurant, and even supermarket and everyone knows each other. Everyone says hello and breaks for a talk as they’re running errands or on their way somewhere. They stop off for a coffee when they see someone they know, have a conversation about the day or week, then continue on with what they were doing. People are usually not in such a rush that they can’t delay their plans by five minutes to make the daily stop at this “social” bar that I’ve grown to love.

Living in the same neighborhood for over four years, in the same building for almost two years now, and working at the same place for five years, I’ve become accustomed to this. I can see how people can get attached to this social atmosphere and familiarity with their neighbors. I now walk past bar or restaurant windows on the street and always look inside to wave hello to the people I know in there, one of the things that makes Italy such a hospitable place to live in.