The Italian Job: Rome, Part I

Rome was a poem pressed into service as a city. - Anatole Broyard

Without trying to sound like Mr. Obvious, Rome has it all. History, legend, mythology, art, culture, architecture, shopping, nightlife, and some of the best food anywhere. A trip to Rome is going to be about choices: you simply can’t see it all. While most every visitor will make it a point to see the Colosseum, the Forum, the Pantheon, and the Vatican, after that it starts to become a bit more subjective.

The Forum.

While the priceless collection of the Musei Vaticani is justifiably near the top of most everyone’s list, the stunning Museo e Galleria Borghese, which reopened in 1997 after fourteen years of restoration, is not to be missed. The Palazzo Borghese is a museum unto itself, and houses one of the most beautiful collections of statuary anywhere in the world. Advanced reservations are essential.

Gardens behind the Palazzo Borghese.

The Eternal City offers dining options by the thousands, and, to be quite honest, it might take some effort to find a bad meal in Rome. That being said, our best eats were had at La Campana, which some say is the oldest trattoria in Rome. The service can be a bit surly, but any restaurant that’s been open since 1518 must be doing something right. Vicolo della Campana, 18.

Be sure to reserve some time to do as the Romans do. Wander the streets near Piazza Navonna or the Spanish Steps. Have a gelato.

Rome’s oldest gelato shop draws a crowd.

Rome looks better at night. Some of the most famous sites are even more beautiful (and less crowded) under the lights. For evening entertainment, explore the backstreets of Trastevere. It’s sort of a mini version of Greenwich Village, with lots of bars, clubs, and more ethnic restaurants than other parts of the city.

Night descends on the Pantheon and Piazza della Rotonda.

For designer fashions and high-end shopping, the triangle southeast of Piazza del Popolo, bordered by Via del Corso, Via Frattina, and Via del Babuino is where you’ll find Rome’s most chic, exclusive retailers. For antiques, art galleries, and vintage clothes, walk along Via dei Coronari northwest of Piazza Navonna. One of our favorites was the Franco Pallocca Antiquario, Via dei Coronari, 112.

Quick Tips:

Do thy research: works by Michelangelo, Caravaggio, and Bernini can be seen for free if you know where to find them. Some of Rome’s lesser-known churches are havens for artistic masterpieces. In addition, most museums are closed Mondays, so plan accordingly.

Know thy limits: sooner or later, no matter how hard you try, you’re going to hit the wall in Rome. With ruins around seemingly every corner and countless museums, churches, and fountains, Rome presents a daunting challenge for the traveler. It’s important to know when enough is enough, and it’s time to:

Know thy limits (and embrace them).

Keep plenty of euro coins and a few small denomination bills on hand: Italians seem to have a fascination with exact change. To get cash, you’ll get the best exchange rate with your ATM card at one of the many Bancomats, which (thankfully) won’t dispense anything larger than €20 or €50 bills.

Once you find a restaurant to your liking, stick with it: there’s variation in quality, but little variation in cuisine from one restaurant to the next.

Check out these links for entertainment, cultural events, and festivals in Rome:
WhatsOnInRome.com
Frommer’s Italy – Calendar of Events
ThingsToDo-Rome.com

Best Way To Get Around:

On Foot

The preferred method, especially if you’re staying in the city center. Careful planning can minimize backtracking, and strategically hiring a cab now and then can help you get the most out of your itinerary.

Metro

Rome’s Metro is pretty pathetic. Every time they start digging they invariably unearth something of archaeological interest, and the project comes to a screeching halt. Consequently there are only two lines, A and B, which intersect at Termini, the city’s main train station. Line A was designed to handle 250,000 passengers per day, but carries 450,000. Needless to say, it’s not a very pleasant experience. When we arrived at Termini from Fuimicino Airport with our bags, we were basically shoved on a Line A train and had to say, "Permisso! Permisso!" to egress when we reached our stop. The MetroRoma web site has route maps and schedule information. But unless your hotel is close to one of the stops, it won’t be very useful.

Buses and Trams

ATAC operates Rome's bus and tram network. Weekly passes (€16) can be a worthwhile investment for those less inclined or unable to do a lot of walking. A single fare is €1.

The Hotel Portoghesi is a moderately priced (by Rome standards), three-star hotel in an ideal location, less than a five minute walk northeast of Piazza Navonna. This family-owned, 150 year-old hotel is also very close to the Pantheon, while the Castel Sant’Angelo, Spanish Steps, and Trevi Fountain are just slightly further afield.

The staff is friendly, and everyone speaks enough English to assist guests that aren’t fluent in Italian. The lobby is modest, with just a small seating area and television off the front desk.

Our room was small, allowing barely enough room to maneuver around the bed, dresser, desk, and lone chair. A small television carried a couple of English-speaking channels. The incandescent lamp on one bedside stand always flickered in protest every time it was switched on, leading one to believe that the wiring was about to pop and start smoking. As a result, my nightly ritual was accompanied by a larger adrenalin rush than I might have otherwise hoped for.

The bathroom was tiny. Very tiny. It was about as small as a bathroom can get and still be functional. A constant annoyance was the shower, which was so small it was hard to do anything without banging an elbow into the wall, shower fixture, or the plastic, accordion-style curtain.

While no safe is provided in the guest rooms, they do offer access to the safe behind the front desk at no additional charge. We were issued a key and stored our passports in one of the small drawers.

A continental breakfast is included in the room rate on their rooftop terrace, which offers both outdoor and enclosed seating. We preferred to sit outdoors amid their potted lime trees and enjoyed the views of the neighboring rooftops. They offer croissants, cereal, yogurt, cheese, juice and coffee, the typical light Italian breakfast.

While the Hotel Portoghesi suited our needs just fine, there’s nothing really outstanding about it either. The furnishings are kind of dated and the rooms are very small, but to be honest I think that’s exactly what you’re going to get in a three-star hotel in this part of the city. That being said, they must be doing something right, because the hotel was completely full during most of our stay, even though October is considered low season. Its location is clearly the Portoghesi’s biggest asset.

We also checked out a couple of other options near the Portoghesi as we happened upon them. One that’s just around the corner is the Hotel Due Torri (Vicolo del Leonetto, 23), which once served as a residence for cardinals and bishops. Another is the Hotel Adriano (Via di Pallacorda, 2), a former palace that dates back to the 15th century. Both offer similar rates as the Portoghesi and are likely comparably appointed as well.

Additional information:Metro: Spagna (Line A)
Web site: http://www.hotelportoghesiroma.com/english/homepage.html
Email: info@hotelportoghesiroma.com
Fax: +39 066876976

As we walk south, past the Pantheon and across Corso Vittorio Emanuele II on our way to The Colosseum and The Forum, we’re afforded the opportunity to check Largo Argentina off of our to-do list. Despite the long day ahead of us, it’s worthy of a brief diversion.

Mussolini’s project to demolish the old quarter inadvertently unearthed one of the most important archaeological complexes of the city. The Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, below street level and encircled by traffic, is one of the few remaining examples of republican architecture. The area is quite small, but it certainly is more deserving than the lone paragraph most guidebooks choose to give it. It’s highlighted by the remains of four temples, the channel of an ancient public lavatory, and the site of Julius Caesar’s assassination.

As we approach the site it resembles a swath of burned out woodland, with an assortment of still-standing columns that look like tree trunks without their branches. It’s only after we’re able to see the bottom that it becomes clear we’re looking at the remains of four distinct structures. Smaller, crumbled column fragments are strewn about like too many dice on a Monopoly board.

Unsophisticated archaeological excavations were undertaken between 1926 and 1929, and, as a result, for many years little was know of the various phases of construction or the evolution of the site. To whom the four temples were dedicated was a mystery, and they simply became identified by the first four letters of the alphabet.

Dating from the 4th – 2nd centuries B.C., the temples are the oldest in Rome. Archaeologists believe they were connected with a larger complex built around the Theater of Pompey. Temple B, a rare circular structure, consists of six remaining columns, the original flight of stairs, and the altar. Constructed by Quintus Lutacius Catulus in 101 B.C., it’s now known as the Aedes Fortunae Huisce Diei.

The Temple of Juturna (Temple A) is in the foreground.

Temple C, possibly dedicated to the Italian deity Feronia, is the oldest of the four. Its mosaic floor came later, probably as part of a restoration under the reign of Domitian. Temple A, referred to as the Temple of Juturna, dates from the middle of the 3rd century BC. Temple D, most of which lies beneath Via Florida, is the largest and most recent.

Directly behind the temples, spanning the length of the square and continuing along the north side with an extension of the portico was the back wall of the Theater of Pompey, which housed what is described as a "monumental latrine." It was in this area that Caesar was assassinated on March 15, 44 B.C.

The presumed site of Caesar’s assassination is in the foreground at the left. Temple B is to the right.

Shortly after excavation was completed in 1929, stray cats, of which there are many in Rome, began seeking refuge amid the ruins in the protected square below street level. The Better Half, who has been coming to Rome since she was a toddler to visit her nonna, says that a sea of cats once congregated here. So many, in fact, that you could barely see the ground. More recently, a cat sanctuary has occupied the site. While the enormous cat population of two or three decades ago is a thing of the past, today the sanctuary cares for about 250 animals. We saw perhaps a dozen or so of the feline creatures wandering about the crumbled columns.

Budgeting fifteen or twenty minutes should allow enough time to have a look around from street level and view the remains of the temples and the site of Caesar’s assassination. Also in the piazza is the Teatro Argentina, the oldest and most important theater in Rome, and the medieval tower from which the square draws its name.

Heading east from the Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, we walk along Via del Plebescito to Piazza Venezia. The piazza’s current appearance is attributed to Pope Paul II, although the decision in 1882 to construct a monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, the first king of a unified Italy, also required a major revamping of the square, including the leveling of one building and the relocation of another.

As we reach the square we’re greeted with throngs of pedestrians and a dizzying swirl of traffic that resembles a video game as much as it does real life: cars, buses, and scooters circling, honking, whizzing by. A policeman perched atop a small pedestal toots his whistle and motions with his arms, giving one the illusion that order is being brought to the chaos. But after I glance back to reevaluate the scene, I conclude it’s just that: an illusion.

The Palazzo Venezia, Via del Plebiscito 118, lies at the west end of the piazza. Initial construction occurred between 1455 and 1464 under the direction of the cardinal Pietro Barbo, who later became Pope Paul II. The imposing tower and courtyard were added in 1470, and, over the centuries, various other modifications have taken place. It’s served as a papal residence and has changed hands numerous times, with the Venetian Republic, France, and Austria each holding the keys for a time, until it was finally confiscated by Italy in 1916. During the fascist regime from 1928-1943, it served as the office of the head of government; Benito Mussolini adopted it for his headquarters, and often made speeches from its central balcony.

The Palazzo Venezia. The balcony from which Mussolini made many speeches is at the center of the photograph.

Today, the palazzo houses the Museo Nazionale di Palazzo Venezia, Italy’s national museum of decorative arts. It features mostly Byzantine, medieval, and early Renaissance art, tapestries, furniture, arms and armours; not our cup of tea, so we keep going. Maybe next time.

To cross the piazza you’re presented with two courses of action. The first is to wait an interminable length of time for the signal to change in your favor, in which case you’ll still have to contend with scooters and motorcyclists whom, with an air of blasé indifference, seem intent on ignoring just about every traffic law on the books. The second, for the thrill-seekers among us, is to take on all comers in a robust game of chicken. There’s safety in numbers, so we opt to cross with the masses. Follow the lead wildebeest, I think to myself.

The Vittorio Emanuele II Monument.

The imposing (and unloved) Il Vittoriano, inaugurated in 1911, frowns out over the square and is one of Rome’s most infamous structures. Locals hate it, and use a handful of derogatory terms such as "The Wedding Cake" and "The Typewriter" (la macchina da scrivere) when referring to it. Their contention is that the ostentatious design and white Brescian marble clashes with the surrounding architecture. I’m inclined to agree with them, although it does offer impressive views of the square if you climb its steps.

Looking north toward Via Del Corso from behind the equestrian statue of Vittorio Emanuele II.

And what would an enormous monument be without and equally immense statue? In this case it’s the copper equestrian statue of Vittorio Emanuele II by Enrico Chiaradia, which stands twelve meters (that’s nearly forty feet) tall. At the foot of the statue lay Italy’s tomb of the Unknown Soldier (Milite Ignoto), a memorial for those who died in World War I.

The equestrian statue of Vittorio Emanuele II.

Whether you think it's ugly or not, in terms of sheer scale one can't help but come away impressed with the Vittorio Emanuele II Monument. The thing is just so damned huge. In just about any game of my-monument-can-beat-up-your-monument one-upmanship, Il Vittoriano is going to come out on top.

We wander around atop the monument for several minutes, snapping a few photos and admiring the view. After awhile it’s time to head back down. The Colosseum and The Forum await us.

This is why you’re in Rome, isn’t it? The Colosseum, or Flavian Amphitheatre (Anfiteatro Flavio), as it is properly known, flaunted the power and might of the Roman empire, and to this day remains an icon of the Eternal City’s former glory.

Due to our unhurried start and our previous stops along the way, it was late morning by the time we arrived. Consequently, we waited patiently in line for forty-five or fifty minutes as the line slowly snaked its way to the ticket windows. At long last we purchase our tickets and walked up into the arena. As we got our look around, I took in the scene from various angles, trying to imagine how it looked before its structural demise: full of raucous spectators, its white marble facade glimmering in the sun, the arena floor covered in sand to soak up the blood of the combatants.

The Colosseum remains an engineering marvel. An estimated 50,000 spectators could enter or leave within a matter of minutes through eighty numbered entrances and expansive corridors. The steps seem to be sloped slightly "downhill" so that, as we descended them later, it felt as if it was difficult to stop. No wonder so many people could exit so quickly.

An engineering marvel.

No one knows how many people were involved in the amphitheatre’s construction, but experts estimate at least 20,000 to 30,000 slaves, skilled, and semi-skilled workers either labored at the site or worked in the quarries to cut the stone. Impressively, evidence suggests that stones were pre-cut, carved, and finished at stone yards, then brought to the site ready for installation, as with modern construction projects.

As grand as the Colosseum still looks today, it was even more dazzling in its day. Its exterior once held brackets which supported banners and paraffin torches. Hundreds of marble or metal statues, paying homage to divinities, heroes, and emperors, adorned the archways of the second and third tiers. Unfortunately, none of these statues survived.

The Colosseum as night descends.

The Colosseum was not without its creature comforts. An immense cloth awning known as the velarium, attached to large poles atop the amphitheatre and anchored to the ground with heavy guy ropes, shielded spectators from the sun. The awning probably used a mast and furling method similar to that used on tall ships of the day. It was, in fact, manipulated by a large team of sailors.

Tickets were free; each spectator was assigned a seat, or locus, in a specific tier and section. Strict rules were applied according to social status. Emperors, senators, and dignitaries occupied the choicest seats. Wealthy private citizens occupied the next level, followed by the middle class, foreigners and slaves, and women. Archways, stairwells, and tiers were designed specifically so that those of differing social rank were segregated, and no intermingling among classes took place, even as those in attendance arrived and departed.

After eight years of construction, the Colosseum’s opening in 80 A.D. was greeted with much fanfare. Hundred-day games were held by Titus to mark the inauguration, during which an estimated 9,000 animals were slaughtered. That’s an average of ninety per day, for those of you keeping score. And I thought the guys who used to have to clean up after a Grateful Dead show had it bad. The corpses of slain gladiators and animals were removed at the east end of the ampitheater, through what’s called the Gate of Death. From there, they were unceremoniously dumped into a common pit.

A labyrinth of cells, ramps, and elevators lay beneath the arena floor.

What took place here were some of the most elaborate special effects productions ever conceived. Substructures beneath the arena floor contained a labyrinth of cells, ramps, and dozens of pulley-operated elevators manned by slaves. The elevators lifted gladiators, wild animals, or both to the arena floor to meet their fate. Up to 1,000 gladiators or hundreds of animals could be brought to the arena floor concurrently. For reasons unknown to us, the catwalk that now spans the arena floor was closed to the public; I would have liked a closer look at the substructure.

Some contend that the Colosseum was at times flooded in order to hold mock naval battles, although historians still debate this point. A poet named Martial wrote that the amphitheater could change from dry land to sea quickly, and it’s know that the Romans had the engineering wherewithal to redirect water from nearby channels to flood the arena. But when Domician added the substructures after he came to power in 81 A.D., this would have been impossible. Nonetheless, it can’t be ruled out that these sea battles could have occurred during the first two years.

Emperors themselves frequently participated in the action. The Emperor Commodus was involved in more than 300 gladiatorial games between 180 and 192 A.D. He was assassinated in the stadium.

Fire, lightning, earthquakes, and plundering have taken their toll.

What led to the Colosseum’s current state of ruin? Since its construction and heyday, the amphitheatre has been damaged by fire, lightning strikes, and numerous earthquakes. Initially, damage was repaired by the emperors, but after the final gladiatorial events (404 A.D.) and staged animal hunts (523 A.D.), there was little reason to repair the damage, and emperors needed cash to fund their wars. The southern side was severely damaged by an earthquake in 847 A.D., and another major collapse occurred in 1231. In what may be one of the earliest documented cases of salvage and recycling, the Colosseum’s marble facade and other materials were plundered and used in other construction projects. The steps of St. Peter's Basilica, for example, are made of stones taken from the Colosseum.

The Colosseum remains a stunning architectural achievement and one of the most recognizable structures ever built. Some of the most brutal games ever conceived took place here. As we descended the steps and walked out of the amphitheatre, I couldn’t help but think about all the blood that was spilt, the agony inflicted, the glory won (and lost), all in the name of entertainment.

Regaining my bearings, having exited the Colosseum, I wait for the rest of our group of six to reassemble. I casually eye a gaggle of four or five gladiators about forty yards away, apparently on a cigarette break. I’m hoping I might spot something particularly amusing from this group, although I’m not sure what that might be. I guess there’s something inherently funny about a group of guys dressed in gladiator outfits. I’m not sure if it’s because they resemble a few stragglers in a marching band who just missed the team bus, or because their body language and mannerisms are no different than that of a half-bored baseball player leaning on the dugout steps, waiting for his next turn at bat. But enough about that, we’re moving on to the Forum!

The Roman Forum is one of the world’s most extraordinary archeological sites. Left to fall into disrepair, then virtually abandoned after Rome fell in 476 A.D, this once great center of Roman politics, commerce, and the judiciary is somewhat of a paradox. Daunting in scale, breathtaking in splendor from one line of vision, un-photogenic from the next. We watch children innocently climb and play atop two-thousand year old column fragments as if they were the remnants of a fallen tree trunk in their back yard.

The Temples of Vespasian (far left) and Saturn (right).

The Temple of Saturn (Templum Saturni) is the oldest temple in the Forum, and once housed the treasury. First consecrated in 497 B.C., the eight remaining columns are actually from the third incarnation of the temple and are dated from 42 B.C. Oddly, this final incarnation used recycled materials, and not all of the eight columns nor their bases match.

The Arch of Septimius Severus.

Roman emperors loved their triumphal arches. Arches of Titus (erected in 81 A.D.), Septimius Severus (203 A.D.), and Constantine (315 A.D.) are among the Forum’s most impressive structures. Perhaps the best preserved is the Arch of Septimius Severus, which features reliefs celebrating his 3rd century victories in present-day Iraq and Iran. It also honors his two sons, who fought with him in those battles. During the time when the Forum was all but forgotten, the portion of the arch that wasn’t buried housed a barber shop.

Fire has been a constant source of destruction.

From republican times onward, fire seemed to be a constant nemesis, the most devastating of which occurred in 283 A.D. Many other buildings were destroyed at the hands of the Ostrogoths of Alaricin in 410 A.D. The same earthquake in 847 A.D. that felled parts of the Colosseum also took a toll on the Forum. In just one example, several buildings on Palatine hill collapsed in the quake, creating a landslide that buried Santa Maria Antiqua, the oldest Christian church in the Forum, under tons of rubble.

The Temple of Romulus, also known as the Temple of Jupiter Stator.

It’s been plundered time and time again, eventually becoming little more than a scrap heap from which stones and other materials were stolen to be used in other construction projects, its marble burned for lime to make cement. Eventually the entire site was mostly buried due to erosion. An etching by the famous Italian engraver Giovanni Piranesi called Veduta di Campo Vaccino (View of the Cattle Field) depicts the Forum with the Temple of Vespasian practically buried in earth and debris. The Forum did, in fact, serve at the time as Rome’s cattle market.

Disappointingly, some areas of the Forum are closed off. The garden at the House of the Vestal Virgins, where a few broken statues of some of the priestesses who tended the sacred flame still stand, is now gated. Other areas are hardly inspiring of a photograph. Nonetheless, this is one of the most evocative archaeological sites anywhere in the world, and is a must-see for any visitor.

Additional information:
Metro: Colosseo (Line B)
Web site: Official web site of the Roman Imperial Forums

Piazza del Campidoglio

Although it’s the smallest of Rome’s seven hills, the Capitoline hill has served as Rome’s political and civic center since the city was founded more than twenty-five hundred years ago. Ideally positioned to defend the Tiber River, the hill was accessible in ancient times only by a single road and two staircases. Enclosed in fortifications linked to the walls of the old city, it soon became an important religious center, and temples paying homage to Jupiter, Minerva, and Juno were constructed.

In 1536, Pope Paul III Farnese approached the great Michelangelo to draw up plans to repave the neglected Piazza del Campidoglio atop the hill and renovate the facades of the Palazzo dei Conservatori and the Palazzo Senatorio. Michelangelo’s bold design resulted in the addition of the Palazzo Nuovo opposite the Conservatori, completing the piazza’s trapezoidal shape. He also designed the long, dramatic staircase leading up to the piazza, know as the Cordonata. Flanking the top of the staircase are two enormous statues of Castor and Pollux, which were excavated from the old ghetto.

One of the statues that guards the top of the Cordonata.

Michelangelo also envisioned the star-shaped geometric pattern contained within the oval paving of the piazza, anchored by the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius as the centerpiece. The original statue, dating from the 2nd century A.D., has been restored and now resides in the Palazzo Nuovo; a copy occupies the center of the piazza.

Construction began in 1546 but moved along at such a snail’s pace that only the double staircase leading up to the entrance of the Palazzo Senatorio was finished by the time of Michelangelo’s death in 1564. The piazza was finally completed in 1655. While numerous modifications and additions have been made in recent centuries, the piazza’s appearance remains true to Michelangelo’s vision, although it was 1940 before the geometric motif was finally added.

The equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius.

Today, the Palazzo Senatorio serves as administrative offices for the city and is unfortunately not open to the public. The Palazzo dei Conservatori and the Palazzo Nuovo, however, house the Musei Capitolini. The two buildings are connected by an underground gallery called the Gallery Junction, which was constructed in the late 1930s and features an assortment of statues, sarcophagi, and other artifacts.

Musei Capitolini

Not only does the museum house some of Rome’s most priceless antiquities, it’s also regarded as the oldest museum collection in the world, having begun under the reign of Sixtus V in 1471.

While the main focus here is sculpture, the salons on the upper level contain paintings by Guercino, Caravaggio, Van Dyck, Peter Paul Rubens, and others. Caravaggio’s Fortune-Teller and Saint John the Baptist, which features an unusual pose of its youthful subject, are two of the more famous pieces.

The Colossus of Nero in the Palazzo dei Conservatori.

The museum houses a large collection of statues which pay homage to divinities, Roman heroes, and mythological characters. Among the most prized statues include the Etruscan statue of the She-Wolf suckling Romulus and Remus (the mythological founders of Rome), the marble Colossal Head of Constantine, the Dying Gaul, and the Capitoline Venus. A personal favorite, occupying the courtyard of the Palazzo Nuovo, is the gigantic marble fountain known as Fontana di Marforio.

The Fontana di Marforio has been in the Capitoline since 1644.

Perhaps the most beautiful piazza in Rome, the Piazza del Campidoglio is a must-see for visitors. Not only is it another example of one of Michelangelo’s astounding achievements, it offers spectacular views of the Forum as well. About the only complaint I have is that the piazza is so large it’s difficult to get a proper photograph that will do it justice.

The Musei Capitolini, which may be of somewhat lesser interest to the visitor who’s not an aficionado of Roman history or art, are worthy of a visit nonetheless. The free museum guide has good maps of the floor plan and indicates where the major pieces in the collection can be found. Perhaps the best course of action is to use the museum guide and seek out the highlights.

Additional information:
Metro: Colosseo (Line B)
Web site: http://www.museicapitolini.org/it/index_msie.htm
Email: info.museicapitolini@comune.roma.it
Fax: +39 066876976

Like most tourists visiting Rome, our days were consumed by long hours of sightseeing. After gathering on the rooftop terrace of our hotel for breakfast each morning, we’d walk miles upon miles and saw a dizzying array of Rome’s most famous sites, museums, fountains, and churches, especially during our first three or four days.

In the early evening we’d drag ourselves back to our hotel, then regroup again two or three hours later for a 9 or 10pm dinner reservation. On most nights, while my other traveling companions used those evening hours to nap, clean up, or practice our new mantra for the trip (Skip the Trevi and have a bevy), I managed to summon the energy to go out again. I wanted to go back to some of the sites we’d already seen, to have them to myself and get a photograph or two in the fleeting minutes before darkness, after the hordes of tourists had hopefully gone for the day.

The Better Half skeptically regarded this strategy as ill-advised, at best. At worst, she probably questioned my sanity. Yet what I found during those hours made the trip all the more worthwhile. I rarely found complete solitude on these ventures, but that moment I was looking for, a moment when the building or monument or fountain I’d returned to see was mine alone to contemplate and admire, seemed much closer to my grasp.

The Piazza della Rotonda and the Pantheon was my first such excursion. It was close to our hotel, and well, you’ve got to start somewhere. As it turned out, this might have been my favorite piazza in Rome. It’s always bustling and lively, yet it’s not haplessly overwhelmed with crowds like the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, and Piazza Navonna. And there seemed to be a good mix of both locals and tourists in the piazza and in the surrounding cafes. As one might expect, the fountain designed by Giacomo della Porta is a popular meeting and hangout place among locals. The Pantheon itself is spectacularly illuminated at night.

On the second night I set out for the Colosseum. I headed south from our hotel, to the Pantheon and Largo di Torre Argentina, then east toward Piazza Venezia. I felt like a salmon swimming upstream as I navigated the sidewalk on the west side of Via dei Fori Imperiali, past the Vittorio Emanuele Monument and The Forum. Tourists by the thousands trudged past me, heading in the opposite direction to their hotels or out to dinner after a long afternoon at the Forum and the Colosseum. A lone gladiator stood his ground and eyed the migration, clinging to the hope that one last person would pay for a photo-op to round out his take for the day. Like some of the others of his ilk, he seemed to sport an expression of sheepish resignation at his chosen vocation. But I digress....

The Colosseum is one of those things that I could probably stare at, walk around, and gaze upon for hours. We’ve all seen photographs of it, heard its story, and marveled at the technological achievement of its construction. To be able to gaze upon it in the relative peace and quiet of the evening and imagine what the scene before me might have looked like centuries ago was an extra-special treat.

The Castel Sant’Angelo is practically deserted at night. Witness the scant three shadowy figures in the half-second exposure of the photograph. It’s a dramatic departure from the daytime, especially in late afternoon, when vendors converge on the Ponte Sant’Angelo, hawking knock-off purses, camera film, tripods, and other wares. It’s little more than an impromptu flea market, and not a very attractive one at that. They’re set up on the bridge to prey upon the tourists who’ve spent their day at the Vatican and are walking back to the city center. Nothing like a captive audience, is there?

Before dinner on our final night in Rome I walked just a short distance from our hotel to the south end of the Ponte Umberto I, in front of the Palazzo di Guistizia. This nocturnal view of the Tiber River, with the Ponte Sant’Angelo and the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica beyond it, just might be the prettiest in all of Rome. I snapped a couple of pictures, and then, over the course of only a minute or two, the sky changed to a deeper hue and the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica emitted its sea green glow, as if some giant hand had just manipulated a dimmer switch over the Eternal City. I don’t think that’s a moment I’ll soon forget.

Almost always on these evening ventures I’d come upon a moment with almost no one else was around, time seemed to stand still, and I was able to enjoy my surroundings without someone bumping into me or some guy trying to sell me a flickering electronic lapel button or a Lawrence Welk bubble gun. (Thank God for the guy who invented the Delete function on digital cameras, or I’d have come home with lots of photos of the Trevi Fountain and Piazza Navonna with a steady stream of bubbles somewhere in the frame.) What’s more, most of the sites I selected for these exploits were well lit, often exhibiting even more grandeur in the evening hours than they did in full daylight.

While I didn’t go out on these treks every single night, it was no small challenge to summon the energy to do so after one of the typical site seeing marathons that consumed our days. It would have been much easier to collapse on the bed, take a long, relaxing shower, or join the Better Half and a couple of my other traveling companions for a bevy, but I’m glad I did. Those evenings of contemplation and relative solitude have become some of my most enduring memories of Rome.