A decade after her first visit to Rome, Adrienne Lee returns to explore the Eternal City at a slower pace, discovering a different side of it through ancient streets, neighbourhood rituals and memorable meals
A decade ago, I rushed through Rome the way many 20somethings do – as a blur of checked boxes on a whirlwind, multi-city backpacking tour. It was cheap, fast, and entirely surface-level.
Returning to the Eternal City recently felt less like a vacation and more like a quiet, predestined homecoming. Standing on the crest of Gianicolo Hill, looking out at the sprawling city where the massive dome of St. Peter’s Basilica punctuated the skyline, I wondered if this was a gentle, divine whisper calling me back.
To feel the pulse of this city, however, I knew we had to plunge into the chaos below. That meant zipping over the uneven cobblestoned streets on three wheels.
Tucked into a vintage Vespa sidecar driven by my guide, Matteo, I felt like an egg rattling around in a basket.
We trundled down narrow alleys, zipped past the high walls of Vatican City, and waved at onlookers as we claimed our own tiny piece of the Roman rush hour. It was down here that I saw how history was woven directly into the fabric of daily life.
The towering shadow of the Colosseum stood juxtaposed against modern traffic, while the majestic, 2,000-year-old Pantheon anchored a bustling piazza where locals sipped copious amounts of espresso in storied cafes.
However, exploring Rome at ground level demanded a heavy physical tax. By day three, my feet and legs were crying for mercy after logging well over 15,000 steps a day through the Roman Forum and the vast corridors of the Vatican.
Yet, every step felt justified, as photos routinely fail to capture the sheer scale of these monuments. The glorious ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and the jaw-dropping expanse of St. Peter’s Basilica need to be absorbed in person.
Whenever I needed to rest my aching feet, I found refuge by stepping across the threshold of a Catholic church. Instantly, the roar of the traffic and the uneven roads vanished, replaced by a blanket of calm, the soft glow of votive candles, and a quiet, sacred space to exhale and breathe.
Of course, there was also the secular religion of Rome: its food. Though I happily devoured endless plates of pasta and sampled countless variations of tiramisu across the city, two stood out.
First was a self-styled pilgrimage for classic tiramisu, which led me to an exceptionally creamy cup at a hole-in-the-wall shop called Two Sizes. Later, at Osteria da Fortunata, I watched in awe as nonnas hand-rolled ribbons of fresh fettuccine, before tossing them into a rich, hearty ragù.
“Rome is never a city to be conquered or checked off a list. It is a place to be savoured slowly, wandered through until weary, and discovered in the tranquil, timeless pockets tucked among the ancient ruins”
As I wrapped up my journey – stopping to support a family-run leather workshop at Ibiz Roma and taking several pieces of genuine Roman craftsmanship home – I realised how my perspective had shifted over the last 10 years.
Rome is never a city to be conquered or checked off a list. It is a place to be savoured slowly, wandered through until weary, and discovered in the tranquil, timeless pockets tucked among the ancient ruins.
In this first-person column, writer Adrienne Lee returns to Rome a decade after her whirlwind backpacking trip, trading a checklist of sights for a slower journey through the Eternal City’s ancient streets, monumental landmarks, neighbourhood eateries and quieter corners.
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