L'arrotino
“E’ arrivato l’arrotino…”
During the languid afternoon hours, when most stores are closed for lunch, a van drives through the neighborhood, creeping along at 5 mph.
A recorded message plays:
Donne! E’ arrivato l’arrotino! Arrota coltelli, forbici, forbicine… Donne, è arrivato l'arrotino e l'ombrellaio; aggiustiamo gli ombrelli. Ripariamo cucine a gas…
Ladies! The knife grinder is here! We sharpen knives and scissors and fix umbrellas. We repair gas ovens… Ladies!…
This recorded singsong, so well-known in Rome and across the country, was once shouted out by a handyman with a pushcart. The knife-sharpening mechanism would ingenuously attach to the wheel. He then upgraded to a bicycle, more practical and portable.
In the modern version, the tuttofare, jack of all trades, drives a car or van and has branched out into general repairs.
We run to the porch facing the street, the long porch that runs the entire length of the dining and living rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of the arrotino. Our street is barely even a street, so short is it, and the van will be gone in no time.
Before the advent of commercial GPS, people had a very hard time finding our address. Even the taxi drivers had never heard of our street and we had to direct them: go all the way down… make a left… keep going past the church… circle the piazza until the pharmacy…
We hear the recorded message as the van turns left towards Piazza Massa Carrara: “...Abbiamo i ricambi per le cucine a gas…”
Some white noise as the recording peters out, then it starts over. We stare at each other and intone: “Donne! E’ arrivato l’arrotino!”