“There is no power in the station-uh. We have to wait in line-uh.”
The capotreno delivered this unwelcome explanation to the passengers in my train car on the Leonardo Express from Rome’s Fiumicino airport after our train mysteriously stowed to a dead stop just outside the Roma Termini train station in the heart of the city. It was my first exposure to Italians’ propensity for adding vowels at the end of English words and the inefficiencies of their systems.
The train station, just beyond us in the distance, sat in darkness, as did our train, while men with flashlights walked by outside. I thought surely they would head to us and get us out of this steel cage, but no such luck. The capotreno disappeared, and there was not a single update from the train staff for thirty minutes as the anxious passengers’ frustration grew.
Eventually, the lights in the train and in the station came back on, there was a collective sigh of relief, and the train slowly pushed into the station. There was never any further explanation, and certainly no apologies.
It was a Tuesday evening in January. I had just flown into Rome from Los Angeles by way of London and now had the task of wheeling my carryon and suitcase to the Liberty Boutique Hotel a little less than half a mile away. It would have been easy if the sidewalks had been repaved since the days of Romulus and Remus or if I hadn’t been nervous about all the stories I had heard of rampant pickpocketing.
The Liberty Boutique Hotel was a welcome light in the darkness. Its modern façade gave way to contemporary décor. A very friendly young man at the front desk welcomed me, and a bellhop brought my bags up to the room. The room was bright, clean, and a decent size for Europe. There were even free bottles of water above the minibar.
At the nearby Massimo’s Al 39 restaurant, I was seated directly beside another solo diner, both of us facing into the one-room establishment. Our tables had red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and the walls had exposed faux brick peeking out between shelves of wine bottles as if to remind us of the city’s ever-present ancient history, much like the rough sidewalks outside seemed to do. The man who was seated just inches to my left sounded like a local, but the other diners spoke English with American accents. I ordered a glass of red wine and my first margherita pizza of many on this trip. They didn’t disappoint.
The next day, I was too early to partake in the hotel’s 7:30 breakfast buffet, so I grabbed a croissant at a nearby café and headed to the Castro Pretorio metro station. I was ready with credit card in hand to “Tap n’ Go” on the turnstile. This seemed like the easiest option for paying for public transportation. If my American credit card wasn’t recognized for some reason, I was ready to buy a paper ticket at a machine or to try the TicketAppy app. I was relieved, however, when the turnstile opened instantly.
I had my Passport, credit cards, Euros, backup cell phone power bank, and earphones in a neck wallet, a multi-compartment pouch that attached to a cord around my neck. I had read these were good for avoiding supposedly ubiquitous pickpockets.
For planning out routes, I had used Google Maps, but the Citymapper app was very useful for on-the-go route planning with accurate live schedules when I needed to make changes in the moment.
The subway was fairly clean and not too crowded. After about four minutes, I emerged from the Colosseo metro station. It was still early in the morning and only about 35 degrees out. But the chill didn’t bother me too much as soon as I spotted the enormous Colosseum towering before me. I had seen it all my life in photographs and movies but had avoided visiting it and Rome in general because when I was a teacher, I always had to travel during the summer. I knew I would hate the hot, muggy weather and a city filled with tourists all clamoring to get into historic sites. While the winds were making me feel even colder now, this was still preferable to the alternative.
At the subway station, I met Will and Crystal, a couple in their thirties from Queens. Crystal was visibly uncomfortable with the cold, which reassured me that I wasn’t just being an oversensitive Californian.
Giovanna from LivTours met us a little after 8:00 and led us through security into the Colosseum. She took us to the arena floor and the upper levels of the massive arena, explaining its history, structure, and uses.
The Colosseum, also known as the Flavian Amphitheater, was built in 70-80 AD by the Flavian emperors Vespasian (69-79 AD), Titus (79-81 AD), and Domitian (81–96 AD). It was built using travertine, tuff, and concrete, and originally stood 157 feet tall and held 50,000–80,000 spectators. It hosted gladiator battles, animal hunts, and public spectacles. Beneath it lay the hypogeum, a network of tunnels for animals and fighters. Over time, it suffered earthquakes and neglect, and its stones were taken to build many other buildings in the area including St. Peter’s Basilica in today’s Vatican City.
At one point, Giovanna apologized for her English pronunciation of certain words, explaining that Italian has no h sound. So it would have been completely understandable if she had a hard time with words that started with that consonant. But instead, she and many other Italians I would meet put hard h sounds in front of words that have a silent h. So when she said honor, hour and honest with a hard h, I wanted to tell her she was making her life much more difficult than it needed to be. I kept my mouth shut though to save her any embarrassment.
After leaving the Colosseum, we went up Palatine Hill, one of the city’s seven. The hill is historically significant as the birthplace of Rome. According to legend, twin brothers Romulus and Remus, sons of Mars and Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin, were abandoned as infants and raised by a she-wolf. As young adults they founded Rome on the Palatine Hill in 753 BC. It became an exclusive area for the elite and emperors, with luxurious palaces built by rulers like Augustus and Tiberius. The House of Augustus and Domus Augustana (the emperor’s palace) are among the key ruins on the hill.
Giovanna then took us past the Arch of Constantine, which was built in 312 AD to commemorate Constantine the Great's victory over Maxentius at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. The arch is famous for incorporating sculptures and reliefs taken from earlier monuments of emperors including Trajan, Hadrian, and Marcus Aurelius.
We then finished our tour in the Roman Forum, the center of ancient Rome, located between the Palatine and Capitoline Hills. A “forum” was a public square or marketplace used for political, legal, commercial, and social activities. The Roman Forum housed temples, government buildings, and basilicas, like the Senate House (Curia Julia) and the Temple of Saturn. It was the hub for political events, trials, elections, and commerce.
After about three hours, I gave Giovanna my thanks and a fairly generous tip, which I had read is the polite thing to do even in Italy, where bar and restaurant tipping is not as expected culturally as it is in the US.
While walking to the next attraction on my itinerary, I had my first encounters with “scammers.” I had been forewarned in my research that there were many tricks used by street conmen to get tourists to part with their money. At various points today, several men approached and tried to engage me in conversation.
One man tried to fist bump me and said, “Hello, my friend.” I smiled but stared straight ahead and didn’t engage. Another asked, “Hey, where you from? Are you from Africa?” Yes, was it the pale features that gave me away? One pointed at my feet and said, “Nice shoes.” My Hoka arch-support sneakers, really? I didn’t look down, but I knew he wanted me to. Another had a clipboard and tried to get me to sign it for some supposed charitable cause. Apparently, these are all ways to catch you off guard and then trick you into giving them money. I completely ignored them or even waved them off. Some pursued me for a few seconds but quickly gave up. It was annoying, but I knew if it got really bad, yelling “Police!” would supposedly scare them off.
So far, I had gotten by without speaking more than a few Italian words, like grazie (“thank you”) and non parlo italiano (“I don’t speak Italian”) even though I had spent months, albeit inconsistently, using the Duolingo language app. And yes, a lot of people spoke at least some English here. But I hate when American tourists say, “Oh, everybody there speaks English.” They told me that about France, Israel, and Italy. Not only is that generalization not true, especially as you get further away from major cities, but also offensive. I feel like we can show the bare minimum of respect by trying our best to speak a few words of a country’s language while we’re guests there. Or at least not act like we’ve conducted research on the linguistic abilities of a foreign populace.
I walked to the Imperial Forums, a series of monumental public squares built by various Roman emperors between the 1st and 2nd centuries AD. These spaces and structures expanded on the original Roman Forum and were designed for political, commercial, and ceremonial purposes. There wasn’t a lot of helpful signage or informational literature, so I made use of the GPSMyCity app, which not only helps you navigate from one historical site to another, but also provides an audio guide for specific points of interest. I don’t love the artificial voice on the app, but some of the other travel guide options like Rick Steves Audio Europe™ Travel App get pretty low ratings for supposedly cheesy commentary or unreliable service.
I walked about fifteen minutes to Grano: La Cucina di Traiano, a casual little quick-serve eatery. For six Euros I got a decent pizza and a Pepsi Zero.
I then spent some time at the nearby Museum of the Imperial Forums & Trajan’s Markets. Trajan's Markets are an ancient complex of buildings constructed in the early 2nd century AD during Emperor Trajan's reign. Often referred to as the world's first shopping mall, today it houses the Museum of the Imperial Forums, dedicated to the history and architecture of Rome's Imperial Forums. The museum showcases reconstructions of architectural and sculptural decorations from the Forums, utilizing original fragments and casts. The museum’s provided audio guide was helpful in making sense of everything.
I took the subway back to the hotel. I was too tired to go out for dinner, so I made use of the Glovo app, Italy’s version of DoorDash or PostMates, and ordered a fettuccine ragù alla bolognese from a local restaurant. The delivery bicyclist called me and in broken English asked me to come downstairs, which I did obligingly. When I got there, the delivery person was gone, and the hotel’s concierge already had the order in hand. He said he was going to bring it up to me himself.
The pasta was fresh and flavorful, but no better than Maggiano’s or Buca di Beppo back in California.
The next day I ate at the hotel’s breakfast buffet. The servers were extremely friendly, and, like everyone else at the hotel, spoke excellent English. Even though the buffet had a full spread consisting of cold cuts, fruit, bread, cereal, and pastries, the server offered me several made-to-order items like eggs and American-style waffles. Everything was tasty.
Next, I walked to a nearby bus stop. I had read that buses in Rome were notoriously late and municipal transportation schedules were unreliable, but the relatively more trustworthy subway wasn’t a great option for this morning’s route. Sure enough, the Citymapper app indicated that I’d be waiting for a while so I decided to spend the money and order a cab. Rideshare apps like Uber are notoriously expensive in Rome, so instead I used an app called FreeNow to order a taxi. It arrived pretty quickly. The driver asked where I was from. When I said Los Angeles, he asked me about the fires that had ravaged the city. I didn’t realize it had been such an international news story.
About 22 Euros later, I arrived at the Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs, more commonly known as the Pantheon. One of the most iconic and well-preserved ancient Roman buildings, it was originally built by Marcus Agrippa around 27-25 BC as a temple dedicated to all the gods of Ancient Rome. It was later rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian around 118-125 CE after the original structure was damaged by fire.
The Pantheon is renowned for its remarkable architectural design, particularly its massive dome, which was the largest of its kind in the world for over 1,300 years. The dome is a perfect hemisphere and has an oculus (a circular opening) at the top, allowing natural light to illuminate the interior. The building’s interior is a stunning feat of engineering, with its vast, open space and innovative use of concrete.
In the 7th century, the Pantheon was consecrated as a Christian church, which helped preserve it through the ages. Today, it is still a functioning house of worship in addition to being a popular tourist attraction. It is also the final resting place of several notable figures, including the artist Raphael and two Italian kings, Vittorio Emanuele II and Umberto I.
I used the Pantheon’s app to guide me through the impressive structure. For a building that is such a tourist draw, it was remarkably devoid of crowds. I knew I was there during the “off season,” but 2025 was a Jubilee Year, which occurs every 25 years. During this special year of forgiveness and spiritual renewal proclaimed by the Pope, religious groups and individuals often make pilgrimages to Italy, and Rome in particular. I thought because of the Jubilee Year celebrations and the fact that Italy is always a popular destination for tourists that I wouldn’t be so lucky with crowds, even if it wasn’t tourist season. However, I would be pleasantly surprised with the lack of crowds during most of the trip.
I walked just a couple minutes away to the Church of St. Louis of the French. After a few minutes of getting the church’s audio guide to load on my phone’s browser, I was able to explore the stunning Baroque building. Serving today as the national church of France in Rome, it was built between 1518 and 1589, through the patronage of Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici (later Pope Clement VII) and subsequently the French monarchy. The façade, designed by Giacomo della Porta, features classical symmetry with ornate details reflecting the church's French identity. The interior is richly decorated with frescoes and gilded stucco, characteristic of Roman Baroque art. The biggest draw of the church is the Contarelli Chapel, which houses three of Caravaggio’s most famous paintings: The Calling of Saint Matthew, The Inspiration of Saint Matthew, and The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew.
As I was walking through Rome thinking about its architectural and artistic beauty, I started to make more observations of Rome’s residents as well. I soon realized that Italy has some really beautiful people. Jerry Seinfeld once said only “like 4 to 6 percent” of the world’s population is good-looking. In Italy, I think he’d have to bump that number up. And many of those who did fit into that exclusive category were downright stunning. Maybe the way they dressed or carried themselves played a part, but I think genes play a bigger role.
I headed toward the Basilica of Saint Mary above Minerva, one of the most significant churches in Rome and one of the city’s few Gothic churches. It is named sopra Minerva ("above Minerva") because it was built over what was believed to be an ancient temple to the goddess Minerva.
It was originally built in the 13th century by the Dominican Order but has undergone modifications all the while retaining its Gothic interior. The façade is relatively simple and unassuming, in contrast to its elaborate and colorful interior with pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and frescoes.
One of the highlights is Michelangelo’s Christ the Redeemer statue, a marble masterpiece showing Christ holding the cross, created in the early 16th century. The church also contains the tomb of St. Catherine of Siena (although her head is in Siena), the tombs of Renaissance Popes Leo X and Clement VII, both from the Medici family, frescoes by Filippino Lippi dedicated to St. Thomas Aquinas, and outside in the piazza, Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Elephant and Obelisk, a unique sculpture featuring an actual Egyptian obelisk on the back of a small elephant.
Scanning a QR code brought me to the church’s audio guide on a downloadable app. Without Wi-Fi it was a little bit of a chore that I would have preferred to be able to do ahead of time, but it worked.
As someone who has struggled recently with fatigue even before this trip, I was really having a hard time with jet lag at this point. I spotted a Starbucks in between my careful observations of the attractiveness of the locals and got a Venti Cold Brew at the old reliable chain, coffee purist naysayers be damned.
About half a mile away, I found myself at Pizza Florida, a tiny, casual, pizza slice shop, just across the street from the Sacred Area of Largo Argentina archaeological site, which I planned to visit a few days later. There were a few benches in front of the restaurant, and three or four stools pushed up against tiny tables inside. After taking my order, the woman behind the counter used a pair of scissors to cut my slices from a precooked pizza and then heated them up in an oven. At least Sbarro has the decency to use a knife, I thought. A few minutes later I concluded that Sbarro would probably have tasted better, too. To be fair, it didn’t help my dining experience that there was a group of four American teenagers having an obnoxiously loud conversation. I hoped the restaurant workers knew I was American too, so they’d understand that we don’t all act like that. Maybe I’m hypercritical, but come on. Have some basic self-awareness. This isn’t a Dave and Buster’s.
I walked about five minutes to the Jewish Museum of Rome, located in what was once the Jewish Ghetto. I had a one-on-one tour with a man in his early 40s who took me through the area, explaining important sites and their history. The Jewish Ghetto is one of the oldest Jewish quarters in Europe. It was established in 1555 by Pope Paul IV, who confined the Jewish population to a walled area near the Tiber River in order to prevent them from living as equals among Christians. The ghetto was overcrowded, prone to flooding, and subject to harsh restrictions, including forced Christian sermons and limitations on the kinds of jobs allowed. Despite these hardships, the Jewish community thrived culturally, maintaining its unique traditions, language (Judeo-Romanesco), and cuisine. The ghetto was officially abolished in 1870 with the unification of Italy, granting Jews full citizenship. Today, the area is a vibrant neighborhood known for its rich history, beautiful synagogues (especially the Great Synagogue of Rome), and Jewish-Roman cuisine.
After the tour, I looked around the museum, which is located beneath the Great Synagogue and showcases the history, traditions, and art of Rome’s Jewish community. Its collection includes precious Torah ornaments, beautiful textiles used in synagogues, ancient manuscripts detailing Jewish life under the Papal States, artifacts from the demolished synagogues of the old ghetto, exhibits on Jewish traditions, holidays, and daily life, and a section on the Holocaust, including documents on the Nazi raid of 1943.
Soon it was time for the tour of the actual synagogue. A woman gathered together a group of about 15 people in the museum and led us into the impressive structure above us. The Great Synagogue of Rome, completed in 1904, is the largest and most important synagogue in the city. Built after the Jewish Ghetto was abolished in 1870, the synagogue symbolizes the newfound freedom and civic equality of Rome’s Jewish community. It features a blend of Art Nouveau and Assyro-Babylonian influences, making it unlike most European synagogues. Its squared dome, the only one in Rome, is easily recognizable. Inside, the space is filled with lavish decorations, intricate geometric patterns, and vibrant colors inspired by Middle Eastern motifs.
I walked about a mile, heading toward the hotel, but when I passed a metro station, I decided to take the subway back. The train was crowded but not terribly so. Even though it was about 50 degrees out, I had walked so much that I now took off my jacket to cool down.
The next day I took the subway to Saint Peter in Chains, a basilica known for housing the chains that, according to tradition, the Romans used to bind Saint Peter while he was imprisoned in Jerusalem. The church is also home to Michelangelo’s famous statue of Moses, part of the unfinished tomb of Pope Julius II. The church was originally built in the 5th century but then rebuilt in the 15th. The basilica has a simple exterior but a beautiful Renaissance interior with impressive frescoes and artworks.
I couldn’t get their smartphone-based audio guide to work, so I just used a pamphlet they offered in front and tried not to disturb the handful of worshippers participating in the morning service.
I was ahead of the detailed schedule I had laid out for the day, so I took a stroll down Via dei Fori Imperiali, a wide thoroughfare that features Roman ruins on both sides. I spotted a nicely dressed husband and wife with a teenager. They were taking pictures of each other. When I asked them if they wanted one together, their faces lit up and they said, “Gracias!” It turned out they were from Mexico.
After taking a few photos of the Roman Forum from the nearby Piazza del Campidoglio, I waited for 25 minutes outside the Capitoline Museums for them to open. The Capitoline Museums are the world's oldest public museums, founded in 1471 when Pope Sixtus IV donated a collection of ancient bronzes to the people of Rome. Spread across Palazzo dei Conservatori and Palazzo Nuovo, the museums house an extensive collection of classical sculptures, Renaissance art, and archaeological treasures. Highlights include the iconic statue of Marcus Aurelius, The Capitoline Wolf (symbol of Rome), and The Dying Gaul. The museums also offer stunning views over the Roman Forum as well.
The audio guide I had purchased had a lot of information but didn’t seem to cover most of the objects on display. There were so many remarkable pieces to look at, in fact, that the experience actually became a little overwhelming. I couldn’t possibly devote time to everything here, so it became a challenge to decide when to linger and when to leave.
After walking for a few minutes, I arrived at The Domus Romane di Palazzo Valentini, an underground archaeological site featuring the remains of luxurious ancient Roman houses belonging to wealthy patricians in the 1st to 3rd centuries AD. The site is brought to life through multimedia projections and lighting effects, which reconstruct how the rooms, mosaics, frescoes, and baths once looked. Visitors walk on glass floors, allowing them to see the intricate details of the ruins below. The experience offers a fascinating glimpse into elite Roman life, making it a unique and immersive historical site.
It was just me, a 60-something German woman, and her 20-something daughter, plus a 20-something woman who led us from room to room. In each, we looked down through the glass floors as an audio track dramatized and contextualized the impressive remains below.
I walked about a mile to The Domus Aurea (Golden House), the remains of a lavish palace built by Emperor Nero after the great fire of 64 AD destroyed much of Rome. Spanning across a massive area on the Palatine Hill, the palace was designed to showcase Nero's wealth and power, and once included grand gardens, artificial lakes, and even a 30-meter statue of Nero himself. The palace featured stunning frescoes, mosaics, and intricate architectural innovations, including a rotating dining room. After Nero’s death, the building was abandoned and later buried, with parts of it only rediscovered in the 15th century. Today, the Domus Aurea is an important archaeological site, and visitors can explore the underground ruins, seeing the remnants of its opulence through modern multimedia displays.
A guide about my age led about 20 of us through the dark corridors of the remains as we marveled at the often-times remarkable condition of the wall and floor decorations. In one room, we all put on virtual reality headsets to visualize how the room we were sitting in once looked.
I walked another mile back to the hotel. That evening I enjoyed a delicious margherita pizza and a pizza with Nutella from PizzaRè using the Glovo app. Again, I felt a little guilty about not going out to a restaurant and taking in the city, but I really just wanted to relax after the long day.
Early the next morning, I took the subway and arrived about 25 minutes later at the small storefront office of What a Life Tours just outside Vatican City. Lucia, the upbeat, informative redhead who would be guiding our ten-person group in English, outfitted us with a “whisper system,” a small wireless unit with an earphone that would transmit anything she said. I suppose the name of the device is misleading. The guide speaks at the volume of a normal conversation, but we could hear her clearly over the din of the busy surroundings.
I spoke briefly with some of the members of our group: a mother and her adult daughter from Greece, two Air Force members and their wives (and one baby boy) who were currently stationed in Germany, and a middle-aged lady from Australia.
Despite it being the off-season and early in the morning, there was a line to get into the Vatican Museums complex from outside Vatican City. Lucia said it was much more crowded during the summer. While we waited, she gave us a paper showing the famous ceiling of the Sistine Chapel so she could explain its various parts to us. The Sistine Chapel, one part of the Vatican Museums, was the only one in which not only were photographs forbidden but also tour guides were not allowed to tour-guide.
Vatican City is the world’s smallest independent country, covering about 110 acres within Rome. It was officially established as a sovereign state in 1929 and serves as the spiritual and administrative headquarters of the Roman Catholic Church. Home to the Pope, Vatican City includes important sites like St. Peter’s Basilica, St. Peter’s Square, the Vatican Museums, and the Apostolic Palace. It has its own government, postal system, and even a small army (the Swiss Guard).
The Vatican Museums, which we were about to enter, are a vast collection of art and historical artifacts gathered by the Popes over centuries. They contain some of the world’s most important works, including those of Michelangelo, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci. The buildings that weren’t originally built as galleries and archives were once papal residences.
Lucia joked about the lack of organization in Italy, which confirmed my observations up to this point. It was evident when we went through security. There were no clear directions explaining which line people were supposed to enter. Luckily, I just had to follow Lucia, whose voice was ever present in our ears telling us where to reconvene. Had I been alone, however, I would imagine it would have been extremely confusing figuring out the navigation.
When we finally got into the museums, we went from one lavishly decorated room to the next, some small, some cavernous. Lucia stopped every few minutes at an important piece and explained its significance. While we spent some time amidst the ancient Greek and Roman sculptures, we spent the bulk of our time with the Renaissance and Baroque art, including the Raphael Rooms, the Tapestries, the Gallery of Maps, and the Vatican Pinacoteca (Art Gallery) featuring religious paintings from Caravaggio, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and others. The Transfiguration by Raphael was one of the highlights here, but of course the star was Michelangelo’s world-renowned frescoes in the Sistine Chapel, The Creation of Adam and The Last Judgment. It was there in the Sistine Chapels that the crowds really did fill the place, with everyone just staring slack-jawed at the famous ceiling and getting the very occasional reprimand for taking out a camera.
Leading us from the museums to St. Peter’s Basilica, Lucia reminded us that this was a Jubilee Year, which meant that we would be walking through a special door that’s opened only once every 25 years by the Pope to mark the start of a Holy Year, a time of special grace and reconciliation for Catholics. It then gets sealed with brick and mortar until the next one!
Perhaps this partially explains why there were so many groups of pilgrims making their way through the vast St. Peter’s Square, often with one person leading the group holding a crucifix, with the others chanting a prayer. The actual church itself was awe-inspiring. St. Peter's Basilica is the largest church in the world, renowned for its architectural grandeur and religious significance. Construction began in 1506 under Pope Julius II and was completed in 1626, taking over a century to finish. Designed by some of the most famous architects of the Renaissance, including Michelangelo, Donato Bramante, and Carlo Maderno, the basilica features a massive dome that dominates the Roman skyline. Inside, Lucia took us to masterpieces like Michelangelo's Pietà, a stunning marble sculpture, and showed us Bernini's Baldachin, an ornate bronze canopy above the altar. The basilica is also the site of St. Peter's Tomb, making the church one of the holiest places for Catholics.
When the three-hour tour was over, I said goodbye to the Air Force families and thanked Lucia with a tip. While planning for the trip, I had hoped to visit the Necropolis, an ancient burial site from the 1st century AD that sits beneath St. Peter's Basilica and where early Christians, including St. Peter himself, were buried. I had filled out a form online nearly four months earlier to go on this special limited-access tour, but kept getting automated messages back saying the Necropolis was undergoing maintenance until a specified date, which was way before the date I had requested to visit. So I tried again a few times to contact the management office and never heard back or got that same form email with the maintenance date having been extended but still concluding before I would be there. Finally, I wrote to them one last time a week before my trip. They finally wrote back and said all the slots had been filled!
It was maddening, but there were still two other places at St. Peter’s Basilica that I had considered visiting. One was the dome, but after a full morning of walking, climbing 551 steps sounded less appealing and Lucia even suggested that it might not be worth it.
So I headed instead down to the grottoes. They are a series of chapels and tombs that house the remains of many popes and other important figures from the history of the Catholic Church. They are above the Necropolis but directly beneath the floor of St. Peter's Basilica. These grottoes are a popular pilgrimage site for Catholics and visitors, and some of the most prominent popes, such as Pope John Paul II, are buried there. From the grottoes, one can still look down and see the grave of St. Peter within the Necropolis.
After about a ten-minute walk from Vatican City, I was seated, again uncomfortably close for my tastes, to a party of four at La Vittoria Restaurant. The menu offered typical Italian cuisine: pizza, pasta, and plenty of meat and fish options. Of course, being a picky eater, I went with their pizza margherita. The group next to me was speaking in a foreign language I couldn’t decipher, and I felt like they kept looking at me and laughing. Was it that my pizza was huge and they were thinking I was scarfing it down? I never found out, and their laughing probably had nothing to do with me, but I got out of there as fast as I could. Service and food were okay, but nothing was amazing.
I opted for a cab back through the FreeNow app. This time the driver spoke good English and was super friendly. He told me he had been a motorcycle racer and showed me pictures of him on a motorcycle as well as photos of his eight-year-old son. I told him about my nine-year-old niece, and he was excited to learn that new word.
For dinner, I tried out a restaurant called Trapizzino. Its namesake dish, trapizzino, is a relatively new Roman street food composed of a triangle-shaped pizza pocket closed on the sides and stuffed with various items. I opted not for the “tongue in green sauce” but for polpetta al sugo (meatball with sauce), which was similar to a meatball sub sandwich in the United States, but much smaller.
The next day I returned to Vatican City for the Pope’s weekly Angelus Address, a traditional public prayer and message delivered on Sundays and certain feast days at noon in St. Peter’s Square. It’s an opportunity for the Pope to reflect on the day's Gospel reading and share spiritual insights with the faithful present and those watching remotely. Following the Angelus prayer, the Pope often gives a short reflection, offering words of encouragement, guidance, and prayer for the world.
This would be my first bus ride in Rome. There are several ways to pay for bus fare, and two distinct machines on the bus, each for a different ticket-related task. But I had researched this all ahead of time and simply tapped my credit card against the machine in the front of the bus, waited for an approval signal, and took a seat. It was similar to the process for boarding the subway. The trip was about 30 minutes, and aside from the somewhat malodorous man who sat next to me, it was a pleasant ride and I enjoyed taking in Rome from a different perspective.
Upon approaching St. Peter’s Square, I found it hard to find exactly where to enter, as security crews had blocked off a lot of passageways, leaving me and other visitors confused. When I finally found some semblance of a line to get in, quite a few faithful pilgrims had no problems blatantly cutting in front of others in the queue. But I eventually made it past the irony and the throngs, went through a security screening, and arrived in St. Peter’s Square once again.
I must say that despite the disorganization, all the security agents and crowd management volunteers I observed were friendly, helping people (including me) know where to get a good view of the Pope, and giving gentle reminders with a smile to the oblivious visitors who parked themselves in areas that were obviously being kept clear for moving traffic. I found a spot where I faced against a waist-high metal barrier, with the Apostolic Palace, the building from which the Pope would be speaking, off in the distance directly in front of me. More and more people came, some getting uncomfortably close behind or next to me on the three sides my trusty metal barrier didn’t protect.
After a while, the Pope’s banner was draped down from a third-story window of the Apostolic Palace to the excitement of the crowd. About ten minutes later he made his appearance and began to speak. Of course it was in Italian, so I didn’t understand a word. And despite getting a good place on the square, I could only see the Pope as little more than a dot in the distance. Luckily, the Vatican has set up enormous video screens, which showed him up close.
After his 20-minute presentation, I headed toward a man and a woman who I had spotted earlier in the square. They were holding a large banner displaying the Israeli flag and a large yellow rectangle, representing the hostages held in Gaza, and carrying similarly decorated umbrellas. I thanked the man for calling attention to the hostages. He explained that they have been doing this every Sunday since October 7th. He is a doctor in Rome, but he and his wife are German Christians with some ancestors who should have resisted the Nazis but didn’t. He said it’s his mission to bring attention to the hostages in Gaza and to show the world that unchecked antisemitism can lead to a repeat of the Holocaust. I asked him if people came up to him and gave him a hard time. He said there are some people who say nasty things, but most people who come up to him are there to lend their support and thanks.
After our pleasant conversation, I left Vatican City and took a bus to an archaeological site I had passed by a few days before, the Sacred Area of Largo di Torre Argentina. Largo di Argentina was a historic square in Rome and is today below ground level and surrounded by modern Roman streets. It is home to the ruins of four ancient Roman temples from the 3rd century BC. This area is known as the site of Julius Caesar's famous assassination in 44 BC, the location where he was killed by a group of conspirators in the Theatre of Pompey, which stood nearby. I had bought a ticket ahead of time and relied on posted signs to help me understand what I was viewing. Still, I had to look up more information on my phone in order really to understand where the actual assassination took place within the site.
The next day, I checked out of the hotel. I decided that since it was so difficult lugging a carryon and a large suitcase over those uneven sidewalk surfaces I would consolidate to just a carryon for the next few days when visiting Florence, Venice, and Milan. In those cities, too, I had purposely booked a hotel near the train station, and I wanted to make that walk easier than it had been in Rome. I would be coming back to Rome five days later. The man at the front desk was kind enough to take my suitcase for me, free of charge, and store it for all that time.
My walk back to the Roma Termini train station was so much easier with one rolling carryon. Once inside the station, I followed signs toward an Italo Treno train headed to Florence. Italo Treno and Trenitalia are two major high-speed train operators in Italy. Trenitalia is the national train service of Italy, operated by Ferrovie dello Stato (FS), the state-owned railway company. It offers a wide range of trains, from regional to high-speed services. The Leonardo Express train whose staff were useless when the station lost power-uh was part of the illustrious government-run Trenitalia. Meanwhile, Italo Treno is a private competitor that operates high-speed trains on the same major routes as Trenitalia, but focuses on providing a more modern, sleek travel experience, with newer trains and a reputation for luxury, comfort, and competitive pricing. It offers several service classes, including Smart, Comfort, and Prima, each with varying levels of amenities. It was because of those benefits that I prebooked most of my inter-city travel on Italo Treno as opposed to its government-run counterpart.
I boarded the 5:55 am train to Firenze Santa Maria Novella (Florence’s main train station) about ten minutes before departure. I had paid extra for their Prima Business class. It was pretty nice in terms of cleanliness, modernity and comfort. There was free Wi-Fi and a charger for my phone, but the website’s promised “warm hospitality of Italo's Welcome Service, offering an array of delicious Italian snacks, both savory and sweet, accompanied by hot coffee, tea and cold beverages delivered right to your seat” was crafty use of hyperbole: A lady comes by and gives you a small coffee and a choice of various prepackaged cookies and crackers.
Still, I liked that when reserving the ticket I could pick a seat by itself that was also right next to the luggage cart. I hadn’t known, though, that I would end up only bringing my carryon, which I could store on the rack right above my seat.
The trip went smoothly. There were a few minor annoyances on the train, like the loud talker who disproved my theory that lack of concern for nearby humans was just an American thing. Additionally, since the sun hadn’t risen quite yet, I couldn’t really see out of the window. But the perks of Prima Business Class were good, and the bathroom was clean and convenient.
The train arrived at 7:31 am in Florence. Although the sidewalks were smoother than in Rome, I was again reassured I had done the right thing by leaving the big suitcase back in Rome. Not only was it so much easier to maneuver, but also I now had one hand free to hold an umbrella to keep me dry from the light drizzle as I walked about five minutes to the The Market Urban Hotel, a contemporary boutique hotel located near the historic center of the city. It was, of course, too early to check in, but I left my luggage and headed out once again.
I arrived at the small office of Fat Tire Tours and met my English-speaking tour guide Lena, a sweet, friendly woman in her mid-30s, as well as the small group that would be on my tour, including two middle-aged couples from Huntington Beach, California, an older couple from Maryland, and a couple about my age from Delaware. Lena gave us the familiar “whisper device,” the wireless unit and earphone similar to what I had been given at the Vatican.
We headed toward the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, a museum dedicated to the artworks and artifacts from the nearby Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore (the Duomo). The museum houses a vast collection of sculptures, paintings, and other pieces that were originally part of the cathedral and its surroundings. It showcases masterpieces by renowned artists like Donatello, Michelangelo, and Lorenzo Ghiberti, including the original panels from Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise and Michelangelo's unfinished Bandini Pietà. It also features important architectural models, relics from the construction of the Duomo, and works related to the development of the cathedral and the Baptistery. The museum gave us a good sense of the history and context of the cathedral/duomo itself.
Then we headed into the actual duomo. The Duomo di Firenze (Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore) is one of the most iconic landmarks in Florence. Known for its breathtaking architecture, it is the cathedral of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Florence. The cathedral was designed by Arnolfo di Cambio and features Brunelleschi's Dome, an engineering marvel that was completed in 1434. The dome, one of the largest in the world, features an innovative double-shell design, has a self-supporting structure, and was created with groundbreaking construction techniques that allowed it to be built without scaffolding, setting the stage for future architectural feats.
The duomo as a whole is renowned for its intricate facade made of polychrome marble in shades of green, white, and pink, and its campanile (bell tower), designed by Giotto. Inside the cathedral, Lena showed us stunning frescoes, including the massive Last Judgment high above us on the dome’s interior, painted by Vasari and Zuccari in the 1570s.
After a little while, we began to ascend to the dome. The passageway is a series of 463 spiraling, narrow, stone and concrete steps. Some of us felt claustrophobic or just plain out of breath, especially the older couple. We reached a narrow walkway along the inner circumference of the actual dome, our heads just inches from the now enormous painted surfaces. I tried not to look down upon the church floor, but I did sneak a peek, which added to my feeling of instability. We then continued back through a door in the dome and ended up on an outdoor terrace that encircled it, giving us stunning 360-degree views of Florence. I’m not typically too afraid of heights, but I did notice myself holding on to anything I could, more for emotional than for physical support.
We made our way back down to ground level. We all said thanks to Lena, but I didn’t notice anyone tipping her. I didn’t have cash in small enough dominations, but after we parted I felt guilty. I found a nearby tabaccheria (tobacco shop) that took my large bill for a bottle of water and gave me change. I headed back to the Fat Tire Tours office, but it was closed. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but soon Lena approached from the distance. She seemed genuinely touched that someone would come all the way back to show his appreciation. But it was awkward. We were strangers. Were we supposed to hug? We both sort of touched the other one on the shoulder and said a few pleasantries and then parted ways.
Next, I headed to a restaurant called Gustavino Piazza Della Signoria. It looked empty from the outside, but I had read good reviews for it online. A waiter was standing outside, a practice I had noticed a lot in Italy. Is this an effort to pull in customers or just what a bored employee does to pass the time? Maybe they’re hoping to socialize with passing friends or workers from neighboring establishments? I asked him if they were open, and I was soon seated. The quaint little eatery had the now familiar checkered red-and-white tablecloths and the wine bottles on the walls.
I ordered a pollo alla parmigiana, not because I wanted it but because I felt like I should try something different. It was a piece of chicken topped with a tomato-and-parmesan sauce. I guess I assumed it would be like the Italian-American version, which is breaded and fried and covered with melted cheese, so this was a bit of a disappointment.
After finishing my meal, I walked about five minutes to the San Lorenzo Basilica Complex. I had downloaded a special app ahead of time but still had to buy the ticket in person and then enter a code into the app to activate it.
The Basilica di San Lorenzo is one of the city’s most significant churches, closely tied to the powerful Medici family and renowned for its stunning architecture, art, and historical importance. Originally consecrated in 393 AD, it was rebuilt in the 15th century under the patronage of the Medici family, who commissioned Filippo Brunelleschi, the architect of the duomo’s dome, to redesign it in a Renaissance style, evident in its classical proportions and elegant columns. It features works, including two bronze pulpits, by Donatello.
The Old Sacristy, one of the basilica’s chapels, was also designed by Brunelleschi, with decoration by Donatello, and was the Medici family’s first burial chapel. The Medici Chapels contain the Mausoleum of the Medici Grand Dukes and The New Sacristy, which was designed by Michelangelo and which features his sculptures of Dusk and Dawn, and Night and Day. The Laurentian Library, also designed by Michelangelo, houses thousands of manuscripts collected by the Medici. Below, the crypt contains older tombs, including lesser-known members of the Medici dynasty, as well as the tombs of Cosimo de’ Medici ("Il Vecchio"), the founder of the Medici political power, and Donatello, the great Renaissance sculptor (who was buried there at Cosimo’s request).
From there I walked about fifteen minutes to Santa Croce Basilica, one of Florence’s most iconic churches, and known as the "Temple of the Italian Glories" because it houses the tombs of some of Italy’s greatest historical figures. It is also one of the largest Franciscan churches in the world and a masterpiece of Gothic architecture. Founded in 1294 by the Franciscan order, Santa Croce was designed by Arnolfo di Cambio, the same architect behind Florence's duomo. The church was built in a Gothic style, with its beautiful polychrome marble façade added later in the 19th century. The cloisters and chapels inside were decorated by leading Renaissance artists.
Most interesting to me were the tombs of three famous Italians: Michelangelo (Renaissance artist and sculptor), Galileo Galilei (astronomer and physicist), and Niccolò Machiavelli (political philosopher and author of The Prince). Also buried there are Gioachino Rossini (opera composer), and Guglielmo Marconi (pioneer of radio communication). Dante Alighieri, the poet of The Divine Comedy, has a cenotaph (empty tomb) here, but his remains are actually in Ravenna. The lavishly appointed tombs served as fitting tributes to the immense contributions these figures made to art, science, politics, and communication, each leaving an indelible mark on history. The feeling of being in the presence of such towering figures was palpable. Despite its significance, the basilica was surprisingly quiet, with few visitors besides me.
Giotto’s frescoes in the Bardi and Peruzzi Chapels depict the lives of St. Francis and St. John the Baptist. Agnolo Gaddi’s frescoes in the Chapel of the Holy Cross tell the story of the True Cross, from which the church gets its name. The Pazzi Chapel was designed by Brunelleschi, whose work I had seen a great deal now.
I walked almost a mile back to the hotel, still thinking about all I had just seen. At this point, it had been about eight hours since I had stepped off the train from Rome. I was ready to just relax in my hotel room.
But the Market Urban Hotel’s automatic sliding glass entry door through which I had entered that morning was closed, and two workmen were busy repairing it. When they saw me, the worker on the ladder immediately got down, and they manually opened the door to let me in.
Oh wait, that’s what I would have assumed they’d do. Instead, they made eye contact with me and ignored me. They just kept working. I made eye contact with the man at the reception desk just a few feet from the door. Nothing.
But then one of the workers clasped his hands together and mouthed “sorry” while another one motioned with a single finger that it would just be a moment.
Actually, that didn’t happen either. I shouldn’t have been surprised especially after some of the experiences on the trip where customer service seemed like an afterthought. In fact, there was no indication the door would be opening anytime soon. As it began to rain, I opened my umbrella and just stood there.
Ten minutes later, the ladder was removed and the door was manually opened just wide enough to let me squeeze through. There was no explanation and not even the slightest apology from the workmen or the man at the front desk.
I gave my name to him and he gave me my room key. At least my luggage had already been brought up to the room. But this was not the way to welcome a paying guest.
The room was clean, relatively spacious for Europe, and comfortable. There was a minibar but no free bottles of water as there were at Liberty Boutique in Rome.
I again ordered in on the Glovo app, this time from Florence’s Hard Rock Café. The delivery person called me, confused about my location. I came downstairs, but he was nowhere to be found. The clerk at the front desk gave just a blank smile and offered no assistance. Finally, a young man on a bike appeared outside and handed over a plastic bag with my meal, which I quickly brought back to my room. The barbecue cheeseburger was pretty good and a welcome change of cuisine. I didn’t feel guilty about not going to an authentic Italian restaurant in the least.
The next morning, I grabbed breakfast in the downstairs restaurant. They had a decent spread of fruit, cold cuts, cereals and pastries, but no cooked-to-order items.
I walked half a mile to a well-known art museum called Galleria dell’Accademia where I waited outside in a roped-off section for people who had reservations. There was another section for people without reservations. I struck up a conversation with Susie from Connecticut, who was inexplicably told to stand in a third, unlabeled section, despite having a reservation like I did.
While waiting for the museum to open, the friendly 60-year-old told me how she was traveling alone while her husband stayed at home in the US. As she listed some of her activities, I realized she was more adventurous and energetic than I am but maybe held that mindset of marking off travel destinations like they’re on a checklist, almost devaluing the significance of the place or in some cases, the people who dedicated their lives for it. For instance, she told me she had “done” the Florence Duomo. She not only climbed up to the dome like I did but then also took a second hike up the cathedral’s campanile (bell tower). She had also “done” St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City. Unlike me, she climbed up to its dome, too. She recommended I take a cooking class, as she had, or visit a “wine window.” A unique element of Florence culture going back hundreds of years, buchette del vino, or “wine windows,” are little windows in the palaces of local nobles through which merchants sell glasses or bottles of wine direct to consumers on the streets without having to open a formal shop. It sounded interesting, but I was perfectly happy getting my beverages at actual restaurants where I could sit and relax.
Once we got into the museum, we went our separate ways. She made no attempt to tour the museum with me, which was a relief because I didn’t want to get stuck in conversation. Armed with a six-Euro audio guide, I walked through the museum, which quickly started to fill up. Of course, I headed right for its best known work of art, Michelangelo’s David, one of the most famous sculptures in the world, celebrated for its intricate detail and powerful expression of human form. In addition to David, the museum contains Michelangelo’s Prisoners (or Slaves), a series of unfinished sculptures that provide insight into his artistic process. The gallery also boasts an impressive collection of Florentine Gothic and Renaissance paintings, including works by Sandro Botticelli, Domenico Ghirlandaio, and Andrea del Sarto. Another highlight is the Rape of the Sabines plaster cast by Giambologna, showcasing the artist’s mastery of dynamic composition.
About half a mile away, I found myself at the Galleria degli Uffizi, one of the most renowned art museums in the world, housing an unparalleled collection of Renaissance masterpieces. Its most famous works include Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and Primavera, both celebrated for their ethereal beauty and mythological themes. The museum also features Leonardo da Vinci’s Annunciation, Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo, Raphael’s Madonna of the Goldfinch, and Caravaggio’s dramatic Medusa.
I became increasingly aware as I viewed more and more works of art that I, like other visitors, focused my attention and time on the more famous pieces, and especially the more famous artists. I wondered, were the likes of Da Vinci and Michaelangelo really so much better than their lesser known peers? I tried to give some of the other works a chance, but with so many to choose from at these museums, it was hard not to focus on the artists whose names were later adopted by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Not having loved my “authentic Florentine” meal the day before but having been satisfied with the American meal I ordered in that night, I decided to head to the nearby Hard Rock Café, less than a half mile walk away.
I had a Margherita flatbread and some enormous brownie dessert. Customer service was excellent, the food was good, and I liked being in a physically large establishment with big booths. It was pricier than non-American chain restaurants in Italy, but I didn’t mind.
I walked nearly a mile to Palazzo Pitti, a grand Renaissance palace originally built for the wealthy Pitti family in the 15th century and later purchased by their rivals, the Medici, becoming their primary residence. Today, it houses several museums, including the Palatine Gallery, which features masterpieces by Raphael, Titian, and Rubens, and the Royal Apartments, which showcase lavish Medici furnishings. The palace also opens onto the stunning Boboli Gardens, a large, landscaped park filled with fountains, statues, and grottoes, offering breathtaking views of Florence. For me, there’s a lot of value in the “George Washington slept here” factor, the phenomenon of being a place where someone famous once visited or lived. The more well known Medicis like Cosimo de’ Medici ("Il Vecchio") and Lorenzo de’ Medici ("Il Magnifico") died long before their descendants moved into Palazzo Pitti, but the over-the-top opulence of the palace somewhat made up for that.
After walking another mile, I arrived at the Palazzo Medici Riccardi, an impressive example of early Renaissance architecture, originally commissioned in the mid-15th century by the aforementioned Cosimo de’ Medici and designed by Michelozzo di Bartolomeo. Serving as a residence for the influential Medici family, the palace features an imposing façade and a stately courtyard that epitomize the era's architectural innovation and the family's burgeoning power. Inside, the palace boasts richly decorated rooms and the famous Magi Chapel, adorned with intricate frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli. Over the centuries, the building passed into the hands of the Riccardi family, yet it remains a testament to the enduring legacy of Medici patronage in art and politics. I would have appreciated an audio guide to help me process all the elements of the palace, but a pamphlet and some information boards in each room sufficed.
I walked less than half a mile back to the hotel where this time the automatic door opened right away, and I scampered up to my room. I wasn’t really hungry, so I just had a protein bar I had packed with me in Los Angeles.
After two nights in Florence, I left the next morning on an Italo Treno train for the two-hour, 15-minute train ride to Venice. I exited Venice’s Santa Lucia train station and felt like I was in another world. It was cool and misty out. I faced the famed Grand Canal and looked out into the city. I had rehearsed the route from the train station to my hotel using Google Maps and its street level images, but seeing the picturesque image in front of me was surreal.
I picked up my reserved two-day transportation pass at a machine with no problem and headed toward my hotel across the Grand Canal. The walkways were rough, but not unmanageable with a single rolling carryon. I climbed quite a few steps on a bridge and stopped at its peak to take it all in: the boats coming and going along the Grand Canal below, the train station I had just exited on my right, and Venice’s city center beckoning me on my left.
In Venice, there are a few main ways to get around. There are no cars; the canals are the streets. That doesn’t mean there are no “normal” streets – they’re just limited to pedestrians and never get very wide. So people get around by walking, by taking the vaporetto (water bus), or less commonly, taking a private (and expensive) “water taxi.” These are all motorized. The fabled “gondola ride” with a standing gondolier smoothly moving the craft with his long wooden oar appeared to mainly be a tourist attraction for a romantic experience and not so practical for getting from one place to another.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the Antiche Figure Hotel where I would be staying for two nights. The woman who checked me in asked where I was going in the city. I said I would be taking a vaporetto to St. Mark’s Square. She offered to help me get to my destination and pulled out a map of Venice. She seemed to think it would be more direct to walk there, but I wanted to have the experience of traveling by canal. I also was nervous about the practicalities of using my vaporetto pass and was eager to make sure it worked as planned right away rather than worry about using it later.
She told me where to get on the vaporetto and reminded me that it’s “okay to get lost.” I had read that same sentiment multiple times about Venice: getting “lost” and then exploring new areas was part of the Venice experience. No, that wasn’t my thing. But I just smiled and nodded.
She outlined a few things on the map, explaining the vaporetto routes and letting me know about the directional signs on buildings indicating how to get to common destinations. She was clearly unaware that for months I had been planning every last detail of this trip down to the tiniest minutiae.
She also let me know that the hotel offered a special tour to the glass factories on the nearby island of Murano. I had known about this and had zero interest. “Ah, okay, thanks,” I replied.
I tried to follow her instructions to the vaporetto stop instead of relying on my original plans, and sure enough, I got lost. So I followed the canal and got back to the stop I had planned on using, and boarded the vaporetto, successfully scanning my new transportation pass against a machine that flashed a green confirmation light. I followed another man’s lead and sat down on a cold bench, waiting for the vaporetto to depart. It was then that I realized that I had not boarded the vaporetto at all but was just in a waiting platform on the dock. The vaporetto was sitting right next to this platform. I quickly got up and stepped onto the actual boat just before it departed.
The boat had an outdoor area, but in this cold, rainy weather, most travelers seemed to prefer the enclosed cabin. I preferred the discomfort of the cold to the enclosed crowds and stayed out in the open area. There wasn’t really much to grab onto, like the support bars on a subway or a bus, so I did my best to balance.
After about ten minutes, the waterbus arrived at my stop, and I walked to the nearby Piazza San Marco, also known as St. Mark's Square, the vibrant heart of Venice. I was surprised how vast it was, in contrast to the relatively narrow passageways I had wedged through on my way there. The Square is over three acres of open space and was mostly empty, probably because of the season and the weather. Dominated by the magnificent St. Mark's Basilica, the square also hosts the stately Doge's Palace and the iconic campanile (bell tower), offering sweeping views of the city. I had attempted to contact the management of the campanile about buying a ticket but never heard back. It turns out the tower gets closed in January each year for maintenance.
One of my guidebooks promised that the square was lined with charming cafes and shops, “embodying the rich cultural tapestry of Venice and serving as a timeless gathering place for both locals and visitors alike.” Right now it seemed pretty lifeless, and I was perfectly okay with that.
I used a provided audio guide to tour Saint Mark's Basilica on the eastern edge of the square. The church is a stunning masterpiece of Italo-Byzantine architecture, renowned for its opulent design, shimmering golden mosaics, and rich history. Originally built in the 9th century to house the relics of Saint Mark the Evangelist, which Venetian merchants allegedly smuggled from Alexandria, the basilica has since become a symbol of Venice's wealth and power. Its iconic domes, intricate marble façades, and elaborate mosaics depicting biblical scenes make it one of the most breathtaking churches in the world. The basilica has served as both the private chapel of the Venetian Doges (elected rulers) and the city’s cathedral. It is also known for its Pala d’Oro, an exquisite gold altarpiece adorned with thousands of gems, and its blend of Eastern and Western artistic influences, reflecting Venice’s historic role as a bridge between cultures.
One of my favorite parts was the Horses of Saint Mark, or Triumphal Quadriga, a set of four ancient bronze statues with a remarkable history. Originally from Classical Antiquity (possibly the 4th century BC or the Roman era), they were once part of the Hippodrome of Constantinople before being looted by Venetian forces during the Fourth Crusade in 1204. Brought to Venice, they were placed above the main entrance of Saint Mark's Basilica, symbolizing the city's wealth and power. In 1797, Napoleon took them to Paris, but they were returned to Venice in 1815 after his defeat. Due to concerns about weathering and pollution, the original horses were moved inside the basilica museum in the 1980s, and exact replicas were installed in their place on the façade. Looking at the originals inside the museum in the basilica, I found it hard to believe they were over 2,000 years old, since they looked to be in such great condition. I walked outside on the Loggia dei Cavalli, an outdoor terrace above the basilica’s entrance, which offered a close-up view of the replicas and a stunning panorama of St. Mark’s Square.
I stopped outside the nearby Caffè Florian, the oldest café in Italy and one of the most famous in the world, located on the edge of the piazza. It was founded in 1720 by Floriano Francesconi and quickly became a hotspot for Venetian aristocrats, writers, and intellectuals. Over the centuries, it has hosted famous figures such as Goethe, Lord Byron, Charles Dickens, Marcel Proust, and Casanova—the latter notably enjoying it as one of the few cafés that welcomed women at the time.
A sign on the cafe’s door said not to enter, to wait outside until they felt like serving you. Maybe those weren’t the exact words. I saw a perfectly capable waiter inside who looked in my direction, knowing I was standing there in the cold, misty morning air. There was no indication that he’d be letting me or the people behind me in the restaurant anytime soon. Maybe he went to the same hospitality school as the workers at Florence’s Market Urban Hotel.
I waited a few minutes and decided I’d had enough. If a customer wasn’t a priority for them, they weren’t worth my time either, whether it was the oldest café in Italy or not.
Instead, I had lunch a few minutes away from the piazza at Ristorante al Chianti, where I was seated immediately at a long wooden table, facing the bar, in the empty one-room establishment. I ordered my usual, a margherita pizza, which was pretty good. I then prepared for the second half of the day with an espresso. Toward the end of the meal, a large group of Italian-speaking tourists came in and was seated at the same long table. They weren’t obnoxiously loud or anything, but I felt awkward. I was glad my meal was finished and asked for il conto with a hand gesture so I could pay and get out of there.
Back at St. Mark’s Square, I next went to the Doge’s Palace on the square’s southern side, right next to the basilica. The palace is a majestic building that was the residence and administrative center of the Doge (the elected ruler of Venice) and served as the heart of Venetian political and judicial power for centuries. With its stunning Gothic architecture, the palace features intricate marble facades, ornate arches, and grand loggias. Inside, there are elegant rooms, including the Hall of the Great Council and the Hall of the Treasures, which are decorated with masterpieces by artists like Titian and Tintoretto. The Bridge of Sighs, which connects the palace to the nearby prison, is also a famous feature, adding to the palace’s rich history as a symbol of Venice’s power and beauty.
In addition to a self-guided tour of the building using their app, I went on a special 75-minute “Secret Itineraries” guided tour with a young Italian woman named Luna. A Brazilian family of about 10 people joined me on this special tour. They were boisterous and wouldn’t stop talking. It was a jarring contrast to the palace’s aura of quiet contemplation. The family’s patriarch, a man about my age, wasn’t any better than his teenage children, nieces and nephews. At one point, he turned around to me, pointing to a carving on the wall reading XI and explained, “That’s eleven in Roman language!” Yeah, we learn about Roman numerals where I come from, too, I thought. “Yep,” I replied.
A young woman in the group was actually very respectful and had some good questions for Luna. She was most certainly adopted. A few times she let me go ahead of her, even though it meant she had to be separated from her family. Or maybe I was doing her a favor.
The Secret Itineraries tour delves into the hidden and lesser-known areas that were once off-limits to most visitors. We went into the Doge's private chambers, the Palace's prison cells, and the State Archives, learning about the intrigues of Venetian politics, the secrets of the ruling elite, and the mystery of the Venetian judicial system. We visited the prison cell of the infamous Giacomo Casanova, the 18th-century Venetian adventure known for his romantic exploits. He was incarcerated in 1755 for charges of immorality, blasphemy, and spreading anti-religious ideas. He escaped in 1756 with a dramatic, daring plan involving a clandestine tunnel.
I tipped Luna at the end, and she seemed grateful. One other older American couple tipped as well, but the Brazilian family did not.
I got on a nearby vaporetto without any problem and opted this time for the enclosed cabin so I could just sit and relax, as it looked pretty empty. But at the next stop, half of Venice boarded the boat, and the cabin filled up. Members of a family sat on the seats next to me and facing me, our knees almost touching. I was next to a window, so I was hemmed in. I practiced in my mind how to say, “Excuse me,” in Italian, but I had read about different variants and wasn’t sure I was going to say the right one. At the stop before mine, I got up and timidly said, “Mi scusi.” The family seemed to know what I meant and gave me some room as I carefully tried to maintain my balance and not step on anyone’s toes as I made my way onto the outdoor deck.
After a short walk, I was back at the Antiche Figure Hotel. This time, there was a man at the front desk, who explained with excitement that I had been “upgraded” to a suite. I tried to match his enthusiasm and mask my disappointment when I found out that my “upgrade” was not within the hotel building itself, but about 30 yards away. I should have said, “Thank you, but I’d prefer to be within the main hotel itself, preferably with a decent view of the grand canal,” but I froze and just accepted what I was given. He wheeled my carryon down a narrow walkway between squat buildings packed shoulder to shoulder until we got to one building that seemed no different than its neighbors. He entered a code on the door’s keypad and walked me up a staircase to my room. Yes, it was a “suite” as it had two rooms, a living room and a bedroom, as well as a bathroom. But the view was of another narrow passageway between my building and some adjoining ones. The man maintained his zeal, and I felt obligated to tip him.
When he left, the let-down set in. I realized that in addition to not having much of a view, I’d now have to enter a code every day just to get into my room. I felt isolated in a strange new city. I wondered if this was really an upgrade at all.
I walked back to the hotel’s main building a little while later to find out the Wi-Fi code and to figure out how to contact them on the suite’s phone if needed, since it had no instructions.
My thorough planning ahead of time had already shown that dining options within close walking distance were few and far between, and I didn’t feel like a long walk or getting back on a vaporetto for options farther away. Plus, delivery seemed like too much of a hassle given my off-the-beaten-track location. So I relied on my backup, a nearby Burger King. I had had plenty of authentic Italian dining experiences so far, so I didn’t feel too guilty about wasting this opportunity to have another. Still, getting a Whopper in Venice was a little depressing, even if it did taste pretty good.
The next day’s breakfast buffet in the hotel was decent, but nothing spectacular. There were cold cut meats, mini meringue cookies, croissants, hard boiled eggs, fruit, and muffins.
I walked about half a mile through Venice’s pedestrian pathways as intermittent drizzle fell from the sky. I arrived at the Campo del Ghetto Nuovo, a large piazza that is the historic heart of the Venetian Jewish Ghetto. It was nearly empty except for the occasional Venetian who passed through. I was supposed to head to a ticket office but couldn’t find one anywhere. Then I turned around, and it seemed miraculously to appear from one corner of the piazza where I had just been. I had either completely missed the identifying placards outside the office, or they had just been put on display when the office opened, kept out of view outside of opening hours to avoid antisemitic targeting. I had booked a guided tour of the area and soon met the guide as well as two other visitors. All three were my age or a little younger. One of the visitors was from Washington, DC and the other from Germany.
Our guide was quite knowledgeable and spoke decent English. We learned that the Venetian ghetto was established in 1516 as the first officially designated Jewish quarter in the world. Much like its counterpart in Rome that I had visited, Venice’s Jewish ghetto was created in order to segregate the Jewish population from the city’s Christians. The word "ghetto" itself comes from the Venetian term gheto, which referred to the iron foundry near the area where Jews were forcibly confined, leaving their homes in other parts of the city.
The square is surrounded by tall buildings—unusual for Venice—built to accommodate the growing Jewish population within the restricted area. The campo remains the cultural and religious center of Jewish life in Venice, home to historic synagogues, the Jewish Museum of Venice, and a Holocaust memorial with somber bronze reliefs commemorating Venetian Jews who were taken from their homes and sent to concentration camps during World War II.
We stopped by the Banco Rosso, one of the pawnshops that operated in the Venetian Ghetto. The name Rosso (meaning "red" in Italian) likely comes from the color of the receipts or from the red signage used to identify the bank.
In Venice, Jewish residents were restricted from many professions but were permitted to work as moneylenders, a role they filled because Christians were prohibited from charging interest. The Venetian government regulated these pawn shops, setting interest rates and overseeing their operations. The Banco Rosso, along with the Banco Verde and Banco Nero, was one of three Jewish-run pawnshops in the ghetto.
The Campo del Ghetto Nuovo is home to five historic synagogues, or schole, built by different Jewish communities that settled in Venice. These synagogues were often hidden within plain-looking buildings because of restrictions imposed on Jewish architecture at the time. Today, two of them are still used for services, alternating based on the season.
From the outside, we saw the oldest synagogue in the ghetto, the Scuola Grande Tedesca (Great German Synagogue), founded in 1528 by the Ashkenazi Jewish community. Located discreetly on the top floor of a former residential building, the temple features an oval-shaped interior and a central bimah (reading platform) that reflect typical Ashkenazi design. It was so well disguised from the outside that I wouldn’t have even known it was a synagogue if our guide hadn’t pointed it out.
The same was the case with the Scuola Canton, a 1531 synagogue also founded by the Ashkenazi community, notable for its beautifully carved wooden panels depicting biblical stories, as well as the Scuola Italiana (Italian Synagogue) established in 1575 by the Italian Jewish community, and much simpler in design.
We went inside the Scuola Levantina (Levantine Synagogue), which was built in the 16th century by Jews from the Ottoman Empire. Known for its striking Baroque interior, it is one of the two synagogues still in active use today in the city. The other is the Scuola Spagnola (Spanish Synagogue), which we also visited. It was founded by Sephardic Jews in the 16th century and renovated in the 17th century with elaborate woodwork.
I was feeling mixed emotions. It was upsetting to see the stark reminders of how human beings treat each other, but also uplifting to see how this community managed to survive and thrive after so much devastation.
After the informative tour, I boarded another vaporetto and arrived back at St. Mark’s Square about 30 minutes later, had a decent margherita pizza with a glass of red wine at Ristorante Centrale, and then headed off for a self-guided GPSMyCity walking tour. My mind needed a break from deep contemplation, and with time being limited, I decided I would just stop outside most of the points of interest on the walk.
I started my walk at Torre dell’Orologio, the impressive Renaissance clock tower in St. Mark’s Square. From there, I walked past the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, a former trading post transformed into a luxury shopping center, where shoppers browsed high-end boutiques. Crossing the iconic Rialto Bridge, I paused to take in the spectacular views of the Grand Canal before making my way to the Mercato di Rialto, where locals were busy selecting fresh seafood, colorful produce, and other Venetian specialties.
Next, I briefly popped into the Basilica di Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, an impressive Gothic church filled with incredible artwork, including Titian’s masterpiece, Assumption of the Virgin, and the grand tombs of historical figures. Just around the corner, I dropped by the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, which features Tintoretto’s cycle of paintings covering the walls and ceilings, often compared to the Sistine Chapel.
I soon found myself in Campo Santa Margherita, a relatively lively square filled with cafés, before continuing to Ca' Rezzonico, a beautifully preserved palace showcasing 18th-century Venetian life, complete with Rococo furnishings and frescoed ceilings.
The next morning, after I checked out, the woman at Hotel Antiche Figure wanted to make sure I got something to go from their breakfast buffet. Soon, I was back at the train station, boarding another Italo Treno train. On board, I sat in my usual seat in the Prima Business Class car and got a coffee and snack from the cart that came to my seat. Two and a half hours later, I arrived in Milan.
As I walked to the hotel from the train station, I realized just how different Milan looked than Rome, Florence, and Venice, which all had their unique appearances as well. Milan stands in striking contrast, though, with its wide thoroughfares, towering modern skyscrapers, and a sleek, contemporary energy that feels distinctly different from Italy’s more historic cities. While Rome is a layered tapestry of ancient ruins, Florence a cradle of Renaissance art, and Venice a labyrinth of canals, Milan feels bold, blending grand neoclassical buildings with cutting-edge architecture. The city's grid-like streets, high-end fashion boutiques, and imposing structures, like the massive Stazione Centrale train station from which I had just emerged, make it feel more like a bustling European metropolis than a living museum. The sleek trams gliding past chic cafés, and the buzz of business and fashion all add to Milan’s distinct, modern energy.
Sleek and multi-story, iQ Hotel Milano blended in perfectly with the city's modern aesthetic. The young lady at the front desk wanted to see if a room was ready for me, but I had no time to wait. I had a ticket to see Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting, The Last Supper. I had checked the booking website daily, waiting for my date to become available, and I snapped it up before it was sold out like the other dates had been, probably by Italian tourist companies who resell the tickets. After all that, I didn’t want to be late and be denied entry. I thanked the desk clerk but told her I didn’t need the room just then. I left my carryon and headed out the door.
Since I was only going to be in Milan for one day (and one night), I hadn’t planned on investing my time and energy in learning and navigating the city’s public transportation system. I opted for the more expensive option of taking a taxi. My FreeNow cab arrived after a few minutes. Even though my destination was only three miles away, it took about 25 minutes to get there through the busy streets of Milan.
When I arrived at Santa Maria delle Grazie church, I was immediately struck by its elegant red-brick facade and Renaissance design. Right next to it stood a simple, unassuming yellow building, which was home to one of the most famous paintings in the world. Before entering, I went to the ticket office to pick up my whisper device.
The church itself, built in the late 15th century, was originally part of a Dominican convent and became an important example of Renaissance architecture, particularly after Donato Bramante added its dome. Though heavily damaged during World War II, it was carefully restored, preserving its rich history. The yellow building next to it, the former refectory of the convent, is where the monks once ate their meals—right under da Vinci’s fresco, which was commissioned by Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan. Standing outside the entrance passage to the refectory with about thirty other eager visitors, I couldn’t help but reflect on how this unassuming building had become one of the most revered artistic sites in the world.
The process of getting in was disorganized. There wasn’t a line, and there weren’t any visible signs confirming that I was in the right place. I had been given a number on a card, but I eventually figured out that the number just corresponded to my passport, which I had to check in as collateral against the whisper device.
Eventually a glass door opened and the group crammed into a narrow hallway where the guide gave us background information on the refectory and on Leonardo da Vinci’s time there. A door at the other end of the passageway opened remotely, and some of us at the front of the group walked into the next partition of the hallway. But the rest of the group didn’t follow, and the door then closed behind us, separating us from them. I had no idea what was going on. Then the door opened again, and the rest of the group, along with the guide, came through and joined us as the door closed again behind them. Apparently, we were waiting for the visitors in the refectory to clear out as only a limited number of guests were allowed into the room at a time.
Soon, that final door opened. The long rectangular room was small, but still much bigger than I had imagined. Its high ceilings and plain walls made the space feel almost austere. We all instinctively moved toward the far wall, where The Last Supper stretched across the plaster. It was surreal to be in the room with such a famous work of art.
The painting was breathtaking. Like the room itself, the painting was larger than I expected, about 15 feet wide. Leonardo da Vinci had captured an incredible moment—the instant Jesus announced that one of his disciples would betray him. The figures weren’t stiff or posed; they were full of emotion, reacting in shock, confusion, and disbelief. The details were mesmerizing, from the folds in their robes to the expressions on their faces, and the perspective lines all seemed to draw the eye straight to Jesus at the center. Though faded and fragile from centuries of deterioration and restoration, the masterpiece still held an undeniable power.
Turning us around, the guide directed us toward another massive painting on the opposite wall—The Crucifixion by Giovanni Donato da Montorfano. Unlike The Last Supper, which was painted directly onto dry plaster in da Vinci’s experimental fresco-secco technique, The Crucifixion had been done in a traditional fresco style, making its colors far more vibrant and well-preserved. It depicts Christ on the cross, surrounded by figures in dramatic mourning. Though it didn’t have the same impact on me as The Last Supper, it was still an impressive and imposing work that added to the solemn atmosphere of the room.
I stepped outside and thought how relieved I was that I had made it in time for my booking. (I had actually made an additional booking for an hour later just in case.)
After leaving Santa Maria delle Grazie, I walked for about 15 minutes through the lively streets of Milan to Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, a stunning 19th-century shopping arcade. The Galleria’s grand entrance features a massive archway that leads into an opulent, glass-covered passageway. Inside, I admired the intricate mosaic floors, soaring iron-and-glass ceilings, and elegant storefronts housing some of the world’s most luxurious brands, from Prada to Louis Vuitton. Often called Milan’s "living room," it was filled with both tourists and stylish locals strolling through or enjoying a coffee at one of its historic cafés.
Ristorante Galleria sat right within this grand setting, offering a perfect blend of fine dining and classic Italian charm. My seat inside was in a glass-enclosed patio, from which diners could watch the throngs of mall visitors walking by. Service was better than the average Italian restaurant thus far, with formally dressed waiters making sure I had everything I needed. A complimentary ball of mozzarella as well as two kinds of focaccia were brought to my table. I ordered tagliatelle al ragù alla bolognese—fresh, ribbon-like pasta served in a slow-cooked meat sauce. The dish was quite flavorful. With my post-meal espresso, I was given a few homemade cookies on the house.
After lunch, I walked about five minutes to the city’s cathedral, the Duomo di Milano. As I stepped into Piazza del Duomo, the sheer size of the square overwhelmed me. It was massive yet nearly packed with people. Tourists snapped photos, locals weaved through the crowd, and pigeons fluttered around, hoping for a stray crumb. I stayed away from the pigeons because I understood that their “handlers” were also hoping for a stray “crumb,” on the prowl for a gullible tourist to con with the offer of a photo with the birds followed by a demand for a large sum of Euros.
The Duomo itself stood at the far end of the square like something out of a fantasy. Its intricate white marble facade, covered in countless spires, statues, and delicate carvings, was unlike any other cathedral I had seen. The soaring Gothic pinnacles stretched toward the sky, while thousands of statues—over 3,400 of them—decorated every inch of the exterior. The enormous bronze doors at the entrance were covered in stunning reliefs, telling biblical stories in great detail.
Inside, it was busy, but much less so than it had been in the square. The vastness of the Duomo’s interior immediately struck me—with its towering stone columns and vaulted ceiling.
The construction of the Duomo di Milano began in 1386 and continued for nearly 600 years, incorporating a mix of Gothic, Renaissance, and Neoclassical styles. It is the largest church in Italy (since St. Peter’s Basilica is technically in its own country, Vatican City) and one of the largest in the world. Walking through, I was surrounded by history—each chapel, statue, and relief telling stories from different eras.
One of the most striking features was the main altar, beneath which lies the crypt of Saint Charles Borromeo, a key figure in the Catholic Reformation. Suspended high above the altar, a small, glowing red light marks the spot where a nail from the Crucifixion is said to be kept, brought out only once a year during a special ceremony.
As I wandered through, I also came across the statue of Saint Bartholomew, gruesomely depicted holding his own flayed skin over his shoulder.
I thought about taking a taxi back to the hotel, but I figured if I was only going to be here one day, I should at least spend some more time exploring Milan’s streets. I walked about two miles north through the heart of Milan, passing landmarks like Piazza della Scala and the upscale shopping streets near Quadrilatero della Moda.
The next morning, I took a three-hour Italo Treno train back to Rome. This time, I had booked their highest available class of service, Club Executive. I’m not sure what luxurious offerings I was expecting, but the experience wasn’t much better than in Prima Business class. I was able to sit in the Italo Treno lounge in the train station before departing and the food offerings were slightly improved, but that was it.
After the long train ride, I walked to the familiar Liberty Boutique Hotel where a young woman greeted me with a smile and said, “Welcome back! It’s so good to see you!” I hadn’t even said my name or provided identification and had hardly interacted with her during my last visit. Her attention to customer experience was just that good.
My room, the same one I had been in previously, was already ready, and it wasn’t even noon. My suitcase that I had left was already waiting for me inside. There was also a bottle of wine and glasses flanking a handwritten note welcoming me back.
I got a taxi to my lunch destination as public transportation would take too long. I arrived about 20 minutes later at Mordi Sandwichouse, a tiny eatery where I got some kind of meatball sandwich and sat at one of their small tables. I was surprised they used a microwave to heat up the meatballs, but the sandwich was still good.
After walking for about half a mile, I arrived at Castel Sant’Angelo. Originally built as the Mausoleum of Hadrian in the 2nd century AD, Castel Sant’Angelo is a towering cylindrical fortress on the banks of the Tiber River in Rome. Over the centuries, it has served as a tomb, a military stronghold, a papal residence, and even a prison. Connected to Vatican City by the fortified Passetto di Borgo, it provided refuge for popes during times of crisis. The castle’s architecture reflects its varied history, with Roman foundations, medieval fortifications, and Renaissance embellishments.
While I waited in a short line at the ticket office, an employee about my age was walking around making sure things were running smoothly, with a concern for efficiency that I had rarely observed in Italy. When she saw me standing with my pre-purchased ticket waiting to buy an audio guide, she quickly facilitated the process, getting me into a different line and prompting her colleagues to get me what I needed. Unfortunately, they weren’t cut from the same cloth: the moment she walked away, her coworker stopped helping me to chat with another colleague. Still, I appreciated that at least someone here had a desire to improve their system.
After walking through the impressive and uncrowded Castel Sant’Angelo, I took a bus for about 20 minutes to the Basilica di San Clemente, a 12th-century basilica adorned with stunning mosaics and frescoes. It sits atop the remains of a 4th-century church, which itself was built over a 1st-century Roman building that housed a Mithraic temple. This underground complex offers a rare glimpse into Rome’s architectural and religious evolution, from pagan worship to early Christianity. There was no audio guide or guided tours, but the posted signage was adequate.
The next day I walked back to Roma Termini station and took an Italo Treno train down to Napoli Centrale, the main train station in Naples. All my Italo Treno trains had been high speed thus far, but this was the first one where I noticed the current speed shown on a display screen. The number seemed to keep rising, eventually peaking at 300 kilometers or over 185 miles per hour.
When I got off the train, I managed to follow some confusing signs to get to Napoli Garibaldi, which is a train station within a train station, located just below Napoli Centrale.
There was a long wait, as more and more people filled up the platform on the side of the train track. We were waiting for the Circumvesuviana train to Sorrento, which would stop at Pompeii, my destination. Meanwhile, a train agent walked down the platform, ordering passengers to "Avanzate!" or move down, compressing us into an increasingly dense thicket of human flesh. I didn’t want to be in the more crowded section, so I parked myself on one of the few benches behind the standing throngs, avoided eye contact, and seemed to escape the agent’s attention.
My bench-mate was an old lady who didn’t speak much English but decided to strike up a conversation. When I told her I didn’t speak Italian, she asked, “Sweden?” I guess any Caucasian who didn’t speak Italian was automatically Swedish in her understanding. Maybe Italy gets a lot of tourists from there. I said no, even though ancestry.com does say 2% of my DNA is Scandinavian. But I didn’t say I was American. I didn’t want to get into a conversation that might lead to an appeal for cash. I guess based on all I had read about scammers, I was skeptical, perhaps to a fault, of random people who start asking me about where I’m from. I asked her where she was from though. She said Sri Lanka. I had probably been unfairly cautious: she never asked for money.
Eventually, the Circumvesuviana train arrived. This was definitely not Italo Treno. It was considerably older, louder, and absolutely covered in graffiti. After I followed the throngs into the crowded train, I could see that the windows were all fogged up and the air felt stuffy. Not for the first or last time on this trip, I thought about how Italy had been so negatively affected during the pandemic. I wondered if the crowding in public places and the lack of sufficient ventilation played a part.
Loudspeaker announcements were few and far between, and sometimes the train would stop at a station with no notice whatsoever. I did my best to follow one of the route maps posted up high, but it was unclear which route applied to us as there were several variations on the map. I listened to some Italians who were also trying to figure out which stop was next and felt reassured that I was at least on the right train.
After about thirty minutes, we arrived at the Pompei Scavi – Villa dei Misteri station. The name refers to the nearby Villa of the Mysteries, a famous archaeological site in Pompeii. I had looked at photos of the train station here on Google Maps and watched a few YouTube videos about getting to Pompeii from this station. So I knew that I would be walking past signs and salesmen advertising “Pompeii tickets” or “audio guides” which were all either unofficial at best or downright scams at worst. It was amazing that this and those other street scams were even allowed by local law enforcement.
I arrived at the main entrance, picked up my reserved audio guide at a booth, and did my best to stay ahead of the crowd that had just emerged from the train. At the same time, I was working on accepting that such a feat was impossible at a tourist site with this level of popularity. In reality though, as with pretty much everywhere else I had visited on this trip, it was a lot less crowded than it would be if it weren’t the slightly chilly off season.
Still, a site like Pompeii can be overwhelming, especially for a guy like me. It spans approximately 170 acres with around 110 acres excavated, making it one of the largest and most well-preserved ancient cities ever uncovered. Buried by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD, the city offers an extraordinary glimpse into daily life in ancient Rome, with its well-preserved streets, houses, temples, baths, theaters, and even an amphitheater. Walking through Pompeii can take hours, so I decided to focus on a few key sites of interest. I didn’t like the idea of skipping the bulk of a site I had heard about most of my life, but I knew my patience – and my feet – had their limits.
My first stop was the Forum, a large open rectangular space, surrounded by the ruins of important public buildings, including temples, government offices, and markets. The Forum was once the bustling heart of the city where public life unfolded. I then visited the Temple of Jupiter, built around the 2nd century BC, its towering ruins evoking the power of Roman religion. Next, I stopped at the Temple of Apollo, dating back to the 6th century BC, which was equally impressive with its beautiful columns and connection to the city’s spiritual life.
Continuing on, I made my way to the House of the Faun, one of the largest and most lavish homes in Pompeii, built around the 2nd century BC, famous for its intricate mosaics and statues. Nearby was the Casa dei Vettii, a wealthy residence from the 2nd century BC showcasing stunning frescoes and a glimpse into the lives of its prosperous owners. I then headed to the Stabian Baths, built in the 2nd century BC, where the well-preserved bathing facilities gave me a real sense of Roman leisure culture.
The Lupanare, a brothel with frescoes hinting at the business conducted within its walls, was pretty fascinating. I also passed by the Casa degli Amanti, a charming house with delicate, romantic frescoes. Then, I explored the Casa di Loreius Tiburtina, also known as Octavis Quartio, a quieter home from the early 1st century AD, with a large garden and elaborate water features. Lastly, I visited the Anfiteatro, built in 80 BC, the ancient amphitheater where gladiators once fought, now silent but still awe-inspiring in its scale and preservation. Each stop offered a glimpse into a different aspect of Pompeii’s rich history.
Satisfied with those highlights, I headed back to the Pompeii train platform, scanned my credit card on a machine to pay for the train, and waited on the platform. There was no posted timetable, no screen indicating when the next train would be, or even any reassuring sign indicating where the next train was headed. So I had to trust my research and the guy in the booth inside to know that this was the right place to wait. After about twenty minutes, another graffiti-covered train made its appearance. It was much less crowded this time, and I was actually able to sit down, doing my best to ignore the obnoxiously loud conversations from another group of American teens.
About thirty minutes later, I was back in Naples, and I began the mile and a half walk toward lunch. I quickly remembered how my friend Kim had told me that Naples was “sketchy.” I had kind of written that off, just assuming she meant there were more scammers out than I had experienced in Rome. But it turned out that “sketchy” was an understatement.
I kept my neck wallet tucked in my jacket as I walked along the city’s crowded, dirty streets, where men congregated on crowded sidewalks and outside betting parlors. The dingy buildings – even the old, historically significant ones -- were covered in graffiti to the point where I wondered if local zoning regulations required it.
I later learned that Naples has long faced significant economic struggles. It has been a major operating hub for the Camorra, Naples’ mafia, and its government is filled with corruption. But since I had to change trains in this city on my way to Pompeii, I guess I ignored the warnings when deciding to stop here for lunch and to visit a museum.
But more importantly, pizza was believed to have been invented in Naples! How could I not stop just for that fact alone? Many believe that modern pizza can be traced to simple flatbreads that were topped with various ingredients. It was in Naples, however, that pizza as we recognize it today — with a dough base, tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and various toppings — really took shape. The famous Margherita pizza, with its toppings representing the colors of the Italian flag (tomato for red, mozzarella for white, and basil for green), is particularly associated with Naples. It is said to have been created in 1889 for Queen Margherita of Savoy during a visit to the city. Pizza quickly became a popular street food in Naples, and it spread globally as Italian immigrants brought their culinary traditions with them.
After surviving the walk with my head on a swivel, I arrived at Insolito La Pizzeria Gourmet. I was the only customer in the restaurant. The young man who worked there was polite and seemed eager to have me there. He showed me a QR code to scan to connect to their Wi-Fi and then another QR code to scan to see their menu and to actually place my order. So there was very little interaction with the waiter, other than when he brought me my Margherita pizza.
It was disappointing. The pizza’s flavor was okay, but it was watery, and I didn’t finish it. Maybe my stroll through the streets of Naples was tainting my experience. All I could think about while eating was how, after the museum, I would take a taxi to speed up my return to the train station and change my outbound train reservation to an earlier time.
I walked about 15 minutes to the National Archaeological Museum. Upon entering, aside from being relieved to be off the streets of Naples, I was immediately captivated by the museum’s vast collection, which includes artifacts from Pompeii and other archaeological sites, including Herculaneum. The frescoes and mosaics from Pompeii were some of the highlights, each piece offering a snapshot of Roman life, from scenes of daily activities to mythological tales. I was particularly drawn to the famous Alexander Mosaic, a stunning depiction of Alexander the Great in battle. As I wandered through the museum, I explored the marble statues of Roman emperors and gods, which gave me a glimpse into the grandeur of Roman sculpture. The "Secret Cabinet,” which houses erotic art and objects, offered a more provocative side of Roman culture, while the section dedicated to ancient tools, pottery, and household items provided fascinating insights into the lives of everyday Romans. I also spent time in the rooms filled with bronze statues and ancient coins, each telling its own story of Rome's complex history.
Outside, I used the FreeNow taxi app, but the cab’s icon on my screen didn’t appear to be getting any closer to me after several minutes of waiting. I settled for Uber, even though I knew it was going to be expensive. The Uber app actually redirected me to the ItTaxi app. After a 10-minute wait, even though the app said the driver was three minutes away, he showed up. He was having a loud conversation on his speakerphone the entire time and his driving skills left me feeling queasy. But I was glad to be off the streets of Naples and back in the Napoli Centrale train station. Soon my Italo Treno train was speeding off back to Rome.
The next day would be my last full day before leaving Italy. I had another very pleasant experience in Liberty Boutique Hotel’s breakfast restaurant and left a generous tip for the waiter for present and past service.
Even though it was early on a weekday, the bus I boarded was not all that packed. Thirty minutes and a short walk later, I began an attraction-packed walk of several miles, mostly guided by the GPSMyCity app. I figured it was my last day in Rome. I might as well cram it all in, even if it meant not going in every building or if I did, not staying very long. Was I guilty of “checklist” travel, as I had silently accused Susie in Florence? I don’t think so. I had sought out many experiences that had special meaning for me during the trip. This walk was simply a good way to see a lot of places in a limited amount of time.
I arrived at Santa Maria in Monserrato degli Spagnoli. Built in the 16th century as the national church of Spain in Rome, it houses the tombs of Popes Callixtus III, who died in 1458, and Alexander VI, who died in 1503. The church’s simple yet elegant façade gave way to an intimate interior adorned with intricate altars and a serene atmosphere. Soft light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the marble and gilded details.
After the church, I stopped at Ponte Giuseppe Mazzini, a simple yet elegant bridge completed in 1908, spanning the Tiber and named after Giuseppe Mazzini, who died in 1872. Crossing into the city, I arrived at the nearly empty Piazza Navona, the square built over the ancient Stadium of Domitian, featuring three grand fountains. The Fontana del Moro, with its central figure battling a dolphin, dates back to the late 16th century, while the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, Bernini’s masterpiece from 1651, represents the great rivers of the world. At the northern end, the Fontana del Nettuno, completed in 1878, showcases Neptune struggling with a sea creature.
A short walk led me to Chiesa di Santa Maria della Pace, a 15th-century church with a stunning Baroque façade and Raphael’s frescoes inside. Nearby, the Basilica di Sant’Agostino, built in the late 15th century, houses Caravaggio’s Madonna di Loreto. At Chiesa di San Luigi dei Francesi, completed in 1589, I admired Caravaggio’s dramatic Saint Matthew paintings.
Continuing on, I reached Piazza della Rotonda, where the imposing Pantheon stood beside the Fontana del Pantheon, a 16th-century fountain later crowned with an obelisk. I visited here earlier on the trip on a more in-depth exploration. A short walk away, Piazza della Minerva featured Bernini’s charming Elephant and Obelisk statue, standing before the Basilica di Santa Maria sopra Minerva, Rome’s only Gothic church, in which I had also spent more time earlier in the trip. Just beyond, the Church of St. Ignatius of Loyola, completed in 1650, stunned with its breathtaking trompe-l'œil ceiling, a flat ceiling that is painted in such a way to give the illusion that it’s a dome. It was such a convincing deception that while looking up from the church floor, I had a hard time believing that the ceiling was indeed flat.
At Piazza Colonna, the Column of Marcus Aurelius, a 2nd-century relief-covered monument, towered over the square. A few streets away, I reached Piazza di Trevi, home to the famous Trevi Fountain, a Baroque marvel completed in 1762. It was crowded, but apparently way less than it would be during the tourist season. Some visitors tossed coins in the water, part of a long-standing tradition. I don’t really like the idea of doing something just because that’s what you’re supposed to do there. That would definitely be one box I wouldn’t be checking.
Further along, I passed the Quattro Fontane, four Late Renaissance fountains adorning the corners of an intersection. Not far from there stood Palazzo Barberini, a grand 17th-century palace that once served as the setting for Roman Holiday’s fictional embassy. The Basilica di Sant’Andrea delle Fratte, with Bernini’s angel sculptures, offered a quiet retreat. Finally, I arrived at Piazza di Spagna, where the Spanish Steps, built in 1725, led up to Chiesa della Santissima Trinità dei Monti, overlooking the Fontana della Barcaccia, a Baroque fountain designed by Pietro Bernini. The Keats-Shelley House, where English poet John Keats spent his final months, is just to the right of the Spanish Steps. Keats died there in 1821, and today, it’s a museum dedicated to Keats, and fellow English poets Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron, featuring manuscripts, letters, and personal artifacts.
As the Spanish Steps are a popular tourist site, the scammers were out and about. One came up to me and started speaking in Italian. I said, “Non parlo Italiano.” He then said, “Oh, you look Italian. Where you from?” I replied, the United States, but kept walking. He followed by my side as he presented a loop of colored string and told me to pull it. I didn’t know what this was, but I knew it would either lead to him asking for money or passing gas. I just walked on.
Not feeling like getting back on a bus or subway, I took a taxi to La Nuova Piazzetta, a medium-sized, busy restaurant up in the hills near the Colosseum. I was wedged into a seat at a small table in a corner next to a refrigerator that was continually accessed by restaurant staff. I ordered fettuccine al pomodoro e basilico (pasta with tomato and basil), which was flavorful and satisfying. If I was interested in marking off the pizza and pasta checkbox at this point, I could definitely do so.
By the time I left the restaurant, there was actually a line to get in. I found that surprising. The food was good, but not that good.
After a short walk, I was back at the iconic Colosseum, which I had visited at the start of the trip, nearly two weeks before. That time, I took a lengthy guided tour through a private company, but this time I would be going on a shorter guided tour booked directly through the Colosseum’s website with the added bonus of visiting the Colosseum’s underground area. The Underground Tour is a 40-minute guided tour that takes you beneath the arena floor, offering a behind-the-scenes look at the hypogeum—the complex network of tunnels, chambers, and cages where gladiators and animals were kept before battles. This area, normally off-limits to general admission visitors, reveals how the Romans used trapdoors, pulleys, and elevators to create dramatic entrances for fighters and beasts.
I then returned to the Palatine Hill and to the Roman Forum, which I had visited briefly as part of the long guided tour of the Colosseum at the beginning of the trip. I just didn’t feel like I had given these sites enough of my attention.
I was particularly captivated by the Roman Forum’s Curia Julia, which was the third official Senate House of Rome, commissioned by Julius Caesar in 44 BC to replace the Curia Cornelia. Caesar was assassinated before its completion though, and it was finished by Augustus in 29 BC. Caesar’s Senate met at the Curia Hostilia (7th century BC), which was destroyed by fire in 52 BC during riots at the funeral of Publius Clodius Pulcher. He also met at the Curia Cornelia, which was the Senate House during Caesar’s time until he ordered its demolition in 44 BC to make way for the Curia Julia. Even the current Curia Julia structure has seen major changes and looks much different than it did immediately after Caesar’s death. So it was disappointing that I couldn’t see the buildings Julius Caesar had actually been in, but understandable given the amount of time that had passed. Unfortunately, as I was heading toward it to get a closer look at the Curia Julia, some of the authorities at the Roman Forum backed me away and said it was closed for the day.
I took a FreeNow taxi back to the hotel, generously tipped the hotel staff downstairs to thank them for all their hospitality during my stay and left something nice for the chambermaid who had also consistently gone above and beyond in cleaning my room each day.
The next day, I lugged both pieces of luggage over those now familiar wheel-unfriendly sidewalks toward the train station.
After taking a Leonardo Express train to the airport, I looked for my gate number on the screens. I’ve seen a few airports that don’t post that information until maybe an hour before the flight time. But in Rome, the screen actually says, “Relax,” and then says my gate will be announced at a certain time. It kind of fit in with the general message I had gotten from Italy: “Hey, we’re in no rush, so you shouldn’t be either.”