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.

在羅馬，沿著帕尼斯佩納大街漫步的人們時常會發(fā)現(xiàn)自己迷路了，但絲毫不會為此感到煩躁。那一帶的景色極其動人，圣母大殿的一角被包圍在19世紀建造的公寓樓之間，周圍是荒廢的宮殿、帕尼斯佩納莊嚴的圣羅倫索教堂，以及一些小店，如馬塞拉里阿·斯塔克奇奧蒂，這家肉店出售某些羅馬最好的肉類。店主彼得羅·斯塔克奇奧蒂，因其職業(yè)和熱情的共產(chǎn)主義政治觀而得到一個聞名于鄰里的綽號“波爾布特”，他聲稱那些掛滿了帕尼斯佩納大街的葡萄是由他種植在小店門前的，形成了一道典型的羅馬式街景。

這就是蒙蒂，羅馬的第一個區(qū)——或I區(qū)，按照18世紀所安放的大理石街道指示桿所寫——夾在繁忙的加富爾大街和民族大街之間，位于廣場的東側(cè)。即便對于游客們來說，它并沒有某些區(qū)域，如鮮花廣場和納沃納廣場那么聞名遐邇，但可以說它的風格才更為羅馬式：一個位于舊城中心的工人階級社區(qū)，周邊已漸漸高雅小資起來。在這里，仍有磨刀師傅每月來擺擺攤，同時，年輕的企業(yè)家們經(jīng)營著藝術氣息濃厚的書吧、復古時裝店、有機超市和畫廊。

在這里逗留過一段時間后，就足以讓游客產(chǎn)生出拋棄一切移居于此的夢想。這種事情在我身上也曾發(fā)生過。我曾駐足于帕尼斯佩納大街，且那段記憶永世難忘。當我2007年決定移居羅馬時，我在山下的巴西納大街找到了一間公寓，這條大街經(jīng)由古羅馬廣場和可愛的蒙蒂圣母小廣場之間一些簡潔而迷人的街區(qū)，鄰居家的客廳用鵝卵石鋪就，帶微微坡度，孩子們放學后在那里踢足球，20來歲的青年人邊抽煙邊打著手機，而老奶奶們則圍坐在一起，就她們所推嬰兒車里那些非凡主人翁交換照顧心得。

廣場正中間是一個建于文藝復興時期的簡單雙層噴泉，上面有一些眼神斜睨而風格怪異的雕像，一個不停噴著水的水龍頭使得該地區(qū)的狗狗們都能喝上純凈的羅馬水。我發(fā)現(xiàn)，四月為小廣場帶來了一個節(jié)日，在廣場上可以免費地聽到意大利銅管樂，吃到蠶豆，喝到大罐酒。去年一位知名的本地流浪漢去世時，一個帶有蠟燭、手寫悼詞的自制神龕出現(xiàn)在廣場上。

想象一下，如果能夠搬到這個社區(qū)，在狹窄的百貨店里購買洗碗巾和窗檻花箱該是多么愜意——這里出售一切用品，從牙膏到老鼠夾皆有——特別是當我發(fā)現(xiàn)那個健壯的羅馬主婦店主就住在巴西納大街，正對我家公寓時。在清晨，她穿著家居服，而我提著噴壺，隔著窗戶談論我那些無比健康的天竺葵。

在達·瓦倫汀，一間坐落于蒙蒂的奎利那雷山坡上的老式小咖啡廳里，一位和藹的女招待照管著所有的桌子，每天中午供應一款簡單的意面，這里擠滿了銀行和政府部門的工人；但肉類和雞肉的菜式則更受歡迎，這些菜式的頭道菜是一盤油汪汪的烤斯卡莫札干酪。

用完餐后從那里出發(fā)沿著博斯奇托一路散步是順理成章的，并在蒂娜·桑德加特這樣的設計和裝飾小店停留，看看那些精細的復古風定制女裝；法比奧·皮科尼巧妙地重新制作老款人造珠寶；今年社區(qū)里新開的小店Le Nou是由兩名剛畢業(yè)的大學生利拉·泰斯塔和尤金伲亞·巴巴里開的，她們坐在縫紉機前縫制超酷的服裝。

對于鋒芒漸露的工匠技人來說，蒙蒂像是個蜂房。在這里沒有古琦和普拉達之類的大牌。所以幾年前當一間美國服飾公司在維亞迪瑟潘迪開張時，跟我一樣被這個地方淳樸風氣吸引過去的其他外國人心感不妙；他們害怕蒙蒂就像鮮花廣場淪為喧鬧的“派對中心”一樣，即將走上毀滅之路。

誠然，蒙蒂正在發(fā)生變化，但舊蒙蒂的痕跡依然隨處可見。在美國服飾公司的幾條街區(qū)外，位于尼歐菲蒂大街上一處擁擠的底層工作室里，翁貝托·西羅在售賣真正的羅馬舊雜貨——破碎的相框，水漬過的燈罩和軟呢帽。他坐在暗光里修補著停擺的鐘表和風扇；他在墻角用一盞煤氣燈為自己做飯。但在他的光輝時代，他曾是名成功的拳擊手，在羅達斯工作，這是一間位于蒙蒂法蘭治班尼大街的地下室健身房，于1901年開始營業(yè)。健身房還在那里，散發(fā)著汗襪子的氣息，訓練著像西羅先生這樣的未來冠軍。

在尼歐菲蒂大街的街角周圍，幾乎所有的門永遠都是朝著蒙蒂圣母教堂開的，該教堂由16世紀時期的建筑師和雕刻家雅各布伯·德拉·波爾塔設計。居民們在集會時穿著他們的節(jié)日盛裝，而當社區(qū)里的某人去世時，商店和酒館都會關門數(shù)小時，以便店主們能夠參加葬禮。有一年在復活節(jié)時，一位教區(qū)的牧師按響了我家的門鈴，對我的公寓給予了祝福。

蒙蒂成功保留了其“久居靜處”的性格，部分是因為這里有點偏，不是游客常到的地方，要從舊城中心其他更受歡迎的景點穿過古羅馬廣場才能到。而在這個地區(qū)的中心地帶，也沒有主要的旅游景點能夠與萬神殿相媲美，但并不是說蒙蒂缺乏有趣的景點。

圣母大殿，這個城市的四大教皇教堂之一，位于該地區(qū)的東邊。羅馬斗獸場和圣彼得鐐銬教堂，也是米開朗基羅的《摩西像》的家鄉(xiāng)位于南邊。斯庫德列美術館從北方俯瞰蒙蒂，這里常舉辦重要的展覽，如秋季即將到來的大畫家菲利皮諾·利皮作品展。而西方邊境則由一道堅固的石墻沿著多爾德康第大街劃分開來，與古羅馬皇帝奧古斯都、維斯帕先、圖拉真和涅爾瓦的廣場對接。

這堵墻被修建來將羅馬帝國和蒙蒂隔開，在古時候這里是一個被稱為斯巴魯?shù)呢毭窨?。這里的皮條客和割喉黨早已不復存在，但游覽九四大街附近那令人望而生畏的瓦倫蒂尼宮依然能讓人感受到這個地區(qū)曾經(jīng)的風貌。