CityLiving in Rome: Big Love in the Eternal City for One New Yorker

Posted On Thu, July 17, 2014 By

Posted On Thu, July 17, 2014 By In City Living, People

I didn’t come to Rome looking for love. I got plenty of the good stuff back at home in New York City. There is where most of my closest friends and family reside, along with my beloved wife, daughter and son. It also happens to be the city that is the love of my residential life. So, love in Rome was not on the itinerary. But a funny thing happened on the way to the Forum and beyond.

We might still be in the infatuation stage, but I got the big love for Roma right now, and that might not ever change, primarily because of the love it’s inspired in me.

walking in rome
Image courtesy of Pookie and Pierre

There is, of course, all the things I’ve written about before, involving food and art and this city’s majesty posited within my quasi-anthropological assessment of Rome’s denizens. But it’s more than that. Above all else in life, I’m a believer in personal relationships. And this is something most tourists don’t truly get to experience since most visits to new places don’t allow for much interaction beyond the superficial. My time in Rome has been different from that of the typical tourist. I was invited here, for five weeks. A dear friend from my NYC MFA days, Carlos Dews, who subsequently became the English department chair at John Cabot University in Rome, advocated on my behalf and helped secure an offer for me to teach a writing class at JCU for the second summer session. Boo-yeah. I’m certainly qualified and all, but this is not everyday stuff, and Carlos not only coordinated my visit (and arranged a reading), he graciously offered me his lovely apartment within the palazzo of the historic center while he would be away over most of the month of July. Yeah. I’m living in a palace and teaching in Rome thanks to the thoughtfulness of a dear friend. (Get your own!)

Andrew reads at John Cabot University on 7/9/2014.

Before leaving, though, Carlos welcomed me to Rome, took me on a thorough tour, made sure I was secure in my new surroundings, and left me in the hands of his closets confidants, a group of expats of extraordinary warmth and character. My primary charge has been a gentle Texan of 45 years in Rome named Bill Guion – a private chef, historian, tour guide, thespian, bon vivant and salt of the earth (among other things). Bill’s provided me an insider’s view of Rome, some of the best meals I’ve ever had, and steady companionship in a unfamiliar city. We see each other nearly every day. He’s one of the best friends I’ve made in a long while, which is something since, at my age, I don’t make a lot of new friends. But an old friend is here with me, too. In fact, it’s my oldest friend.

I came to Rome last, six years ago, with Mike O’Shea, a modern-gladiator type with an over-sized heart. We’d been baptized together 40 years earlier, and we took off for Italy to celebrate our fourth decade as the closest of friends. We spent most of our time in Italy tooling around Tuscany, but we made plans to spend a day and night with my friend Carlos in Rome before heading back to New York. It was, by far, the most memorable day of a very memorable trip.

rome vespa, italian vespaPhoto © zakmc

Rome lit Mike up. He loved the buildings and the streets and the people zipping around on motorini. Not an art lover, necessarily, or one, really, for history, Mike somehow found the city instantly enchanting. He connected with its people and aesthetic; its pathos fit Mike like his new Florentine leather jacket. I could barely keep up with him as he loped alongside Carlos, nodding at everything our gracious tour guide pointed out (retaining nothing, of course, but absorbing the vibe all the same). At Piazza Navona at dusk, Mike made me take pictures of him doing bodybuilder poses beside statues of the gods. It seemed like he belonged among them. But my favorite picture was taken after Mike stumbled upon an arched and low alley that led to an open courtyard circled by beautiful pastel facades of quaint homes. His eyes lit up like he’d discovered a secret garden. I snapped a picture of him leaning on a motorcycle in the courtyard. He looked like a movie star on vacation. Big and proud and full of life: He looked immortal.

Rome's Piazza Navona at nightImage WikiCommons

But my powerful friend was not immortal. Mike was diagnosed with leukemia at age 44. I used to tell him in the hospital that as soon as he got better, we’d be going back to Italy to celebrate our 45ths. I came alone this time; our 46th birthdays passed my very first week here, but I don’t miss Mike in Rome like I do when I’m in New York. I’ve had this sense that he’s been with me all along. I often find myself showing Mike around, me being the tour guide now. We sit down for meals and marvel at sights. We admire the women on bicycles, elegantly dressed and perfectly perched (don’t tell our wives). I keep expecting Mike’s face to appear in a fountain. And imagine my surprise when I found out, on my first day here in Rome, that Bill Guion lives beside the arched alley that leads to Mike’s secret courtyard.

As said, I believe in personal relationships. They are what makes sense of the world, and to enjoy them in Rome – among new acquaintances, dear friends like Carlos and new ones like Bill, and even an eternal friend in Mike O’Shea – has made this trip abroad as much about love as anything else. And, of course, waiting for me upon return will be my city, which I will see in a new light, with my family and friends there, and my beloved wife, daughter and son who will welcome home someone more informed by love than when he left.

Andrew Cotto, Andrew Cotto writer

Andrew Cotto is the author of The Domino Effect and Outerborough Blues: A Brooklyn Mystery. He has written for numerous publications, including The New York Times, The Huffington Post, Men’s Journal,, the Good Men Project, and Teachers & Writers magazine. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from The New School. He lives in Brooklyn, New York. Follow him on Twitter[email protected]

  • Meagen

    Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have put on mascara this morning. That was gorgeous, Andrew. Thanks for the daily dose.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Sorry about the mascara, Meagen. Thanks for the thoughts.

  • Kevin

    Beautiful story, Andrew. No doubt Mike is with you along the streets of Rome during this trip. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thanks, Kev. I’ll give him your best next time he walks me home.

  • Dawn

    Beautifully written, as always.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thanks, Dawn! I hope all is well down South!

  • Alice

    Incredible, Andy, just incredible. Thank you so much for sharing this with all of us. I would love to see that picture of Michael one of these days. What a wonderful memory. You are one very special man, Mr. Cotto. ♥

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thanks, Alice! I’ll let you know if I can find those pictures!!!

  • John

    I am sitting here reminiscing and thinking of you Mike and my brother. I wish we were all together drinking wine and laughing at one of Mike’s great stories. I am so glad you had Mike along with you on your trip.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thanks, John. He’s been great company. And we’re drinking lots of wine together.

  • Angus

    Lovely piece Andrew. Mike is surely with you in spirit.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thank you, Angus.

  • Cheryl J. Hutchinson

    Oh, my, Andrew, what a beautiful tribute to your dearest friend. He definitely walks with you and I can see him smiling.

    • Andrew Cotto

      Thanks, Cheryl! I see him smiling, too!

  • Bruce Beal


    Lovely. That brought back so many memories of Mike. Thanks very much.


  • Andrew Cotto

    Thanks, Baba!!

  • Fabienne Read

    Wonderfully touching, thanks Andrew. Good to hear that you’re over in good old Europe. If your travels bring you to the UK, give us a shout.

  • Andrew Cotto

    Thanks, Fab! I hope all is well. Please give my best to Tim and Chloe!



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