Some cities look like postcards. Rome is the only one where the postcard is real life. Ferrari and Fiat 500, popes and tourists in shorts, gelato and traffic jams — all of it is Rome, all at once.
Rome is impossible to see in one visit. But it is equally impossible to leave without falling in love — that part always happens in one visit.
Romans park everywhere. On pavements, on pedestrian crossings, pressed up against ancient columns. This is not chaos — it is a system, just a different one. A little Fiat 500 wedges itself into a gap between a scooter and a sixteenth-century fountain and it looks entirely natural. The Fiat 500 was made for Rome — small, round, nimble, it moves through these alleys like a fish in water.
The streets of Rome are not straight. They meander, narrow, and unexpectedly deliver you to a square you weren't looking for — which turns out to be more beautiful than the one you were. This is the city's signature trick: it always surprises pleasantly once you stop trying to control it.
In the morning the alleys smell of coffee and fresh bread. Laundry hangs on lines strung between buildings — as it did five hundred years ago. Someone shouts from a window. A church bell rings somewhere. Life goes on against a backdrop of architecture that is five centuries old.
The Fiat 500 was created in 1957 specifically for postwar Italy — small, cheap, economical. It was designed by engineer Dante Giacosa. The car cost about the same as a scooter but offered protection from the rain — and became the symbol of the Italian economic miracle. Today an original Fiat 500 is a collector's item. In Rome you find them parked in the most improbable places — next to the Colosseum, by the Pantheon, at the Trevi Fountain. Simply because the owner lives there.
Rome was built over two thousand years and you can see it. Here Baroque sits atop the medieval, the medieval atop the ancient. Nobody ever demolished anything completely — they simply built the next layer. The facade of a seventeenth-century church — and inside, beneath it, columns from a pagan temple of the first century. This is perfectly normal.
The most famous story about Roman architecture concerns the Pantheon. When Pope Urban VIII Barberini in 1625 ordered the bronze beams stripped from the portico of the Pantheon — to be melted down for cannons and a canopy in St Peter's Basilica — the Romans coined a phrase: "Quod non fecerunt barbari, fecerunt Barberini" — "What the barbarians did not do, the Barberini did." The phrase still lives in guidebooks. Urban VIII probably deserved it.
But the greatest mystery of Roman architecture is the Colosseum. Built by slaves and freedmen, it held 50,000 spectators and had 80 entrances so it could fill in fifteen minutes. It had a cooling system — special pipes circulated water for air conditioning. In 72 AD. Architects still use it as a textbook.
A Roman does not notice the Colosseum. He notices the traffic jam in front of the Colosseum. This is not indifference — it is a particular kind of coexistence with history. When your grandfather walked past the same column as Caesar, the column stops being a landmark and becomes just a column.
Italians are the most stylish people in the world. Not because they dress expensively. Because they dress correctly. An old man in a perfectly ironed shirt at a coffee bar, a woman on a scooter in a dress and heels, a young man in a linen jacket in 35-degree heat — this is not effort, it is habit. Bella figura — the beautiful image — is not vanity, it is respect for others.
In the evening Romans come out for the passeggiata — the evening stroll. Not for exercise, not with a phone in hand. Simply to walk, to look, to talk. This is a ritual that has existed here as long as the city itself.
The Aventine, the Janiculum, the Pincio terrace above the Piazza del Popolo — from any of the hills Rome unfolds like a map. Domes, domes, domes. There are more than four hundred of them in Rome — more than in any other city in the world. Each dome is a church, each church a story.
The most famous view is through the keyhole of the Knights of Malta gate on the Aventine Hill. Through the small opening you see a perfectly aligned avenue and at its end — the dome of St Peter's Basilica. There is a queue for this keyhole every day.
Rome is the only city where you can come to two-thousand-year-old ruins and find a cat there. Just a cat. Who lives here and is in no hurry whatsoever.
At night Rome becomes a different city. Tourists retreat to their hotels, the fountains are lit from below, ancient walls acquire a honey colour in artificial light. The streets don't empty — the population simply changes. The Romans come out.
The Trevi Fountain at night is an entirely different experience. Without the crowds, without the shouting, only the sound of water in the silence of a narrow alley. They say you cannot throw coins at night — the fountain does not accept wishes from those who are unwilling to share the city with others. This is not an official rule. But it sounds right.
The Baths of Diocletian, the largest in ancient Rome, held three thousand people at once. Now there is a museum there. But if you come in the evening when the light is changing and the tourists are few — you can imagine. Three thousand people, hot water, mosaic floors, the smell of oil and stone. Two thousand years ago this was an ordinary Tuesday.
The cats of Rome have been officially recognised as part of the city's cultural heritage. Around 300,000 stray cats live in the ruins, by the fountains, in the gardens. The most famous colony is at the Largo di Torre Argentina — where Julius Caesar was assassinated. There is now a cat sanctuary right among the ancient ruins. Tourists come to see the ruins; the cats observe the tourists. It is unclear which is the greater attraction.
Rome holds the world record for the number of domes per square kilometre. Each dome is a separate history, a separate architect, a separate century.
Officially recognised as part of the city's cultural heritage. They live in ruins, by fountains, in gardens. In no hurry — for two thousand years.
Created specifically for Italy's narrow streets. Length: 2.97 metres. Fits anywhere. Symbol of the Italian postwar renaissance and the main character of Roman alleys.
The single most important thing: arrive at the major sights early in the morning. The Trevi Fountain at 7am and at noon are two completely different places. The Pantheon opens at 9 — be there at opening. The Colosseum is best visited with a guide; otherwise you lose half the meaning.
Essential: carbonara in Trastevere (with guanciale only, no cream whatsoever), espresso standing at the bar counter (sitting costs more — this is a rule), gelato only at a gelateria artigianale (not the ones with mountains of ice cream in the window). And the Knights of Malta keyhole on the Aventine Hill — free, no queue after 6pm.