Rome 25

Back in the Eternal City, and yes, it’s called that for a reason. Not much has changed since my last visit, or the ones before, and honestly, that’s exactly how it should be. Rome is epic just the way it is.

Friday morning I was still at work, then around midday I rushed to the airport. Security, last phone calls, boarding – and finally some peace. I passed out right after takeoff, woke up at a stopover, killed three hours somewhere, and slept again on the second leg. By Saturday morning I arrived in Rome, groggy and disoriented.

First mission: baggage claim. I stood there waiting, confused because my bags didn’t show up. Without my glasses, I had to double-check, only to realize I was at the wrong carousel. I was convinced I’d had a layover in Dubai, but when I asked the woman at the counter, she brushed me off. Turns out I came from Doha. Rome airport chaos – classic. At least there was a tiny café in between, because Italy means coffee everywhere. Refueled with an espresso, I walked back just in time to see my bags tumble down the belt. Perfect timing.

Next stop: the Leonardo Express to Termini. Everything is easier when you know the way. One hour later I was sipping another coffee at Roma Termini before dropping my luggage at the hotel (too early to check in). Then straight back to the station, time to organize my onward travel through Europe.

Here’s the thing: Trenitalia counters are usually useless, their app is clunky, but the ticket machines are excellent. And the French railway app? Even better. Monday morning: Rome to Genoa, no problem. My original plan was Genoa to Barcelona in one day for a conference, but it felt too risky, so I split it up with a night in Marseille. Never been there, so why not? (Spoiler: that plan didn’t last, but more on that later.)

Of course, Rome wouldn’t be Rome without the “helpful” men hanging around the machines, pushing their way into your screen, telling you you’re doing it all wrong and demanding a tip. Like consultants, first they tell you what’s wrong, then they charge you for it. I politely asked one to leave. He didn’t. I asked again. Still didn’t. So I just moved to the next machine, shot him a look, and that was that. Annoying, but also… Rome.

After sorting out my tickets, what else? Exactly, coffee. Then I grabbed a 48-hour metro pass and headed out to Circus Maximus. Standing there, I looked straight up at my favorite hill: the Palatine. Saved that for tomorrow though, and wandered up to the Capitoline instead. On the way I slipped through a little courtyard market, dodged tourists, climbed to the top, and ended up in Santa Maria in Aracoeli. A wedding was happening right there, beautiful, but also kind of funny, tying the knot surrounded by sweaty tourists.

By the time I grabbed some focaccia and returned to the hotel, it was just after 2pm. My room was cool and ready. I told myself I’d take a quick nap… and woke up at 5pm, demolished my focaccia in bed, and fell right back asleep. Jetlag: 1, me: 0.

At 4am I was wide awake. Time to tick off some admin, like travel insurance. Yes, you can actually buy that while on the road, pricey but easy. I chuckled thinking back: in Germany I once had ten different overseas insurances thanks to all my credit cards, but in Australia only one through work (which may or may not have covered private travel).

Funny memory: when I couldn’t pay my university fees in Stuttgart (600 euros – I was that broke), I got kicked out and, as a bonus, thrown off my family health insurance too. My mother’s reaction? Not, “How can I help?” but one of her famous angry calls: how dare I risk her having to pay for me if something happened? Classic. I swallowed my pride, worked a few days on a construction site, scraped the money together, and re-enrolled. German university bureaucracy wasn’t any kinder: “Why didn’t your parents pay?” – thanks for the empathy.

Anyway, back to Rome. That morning I treated myself to new music – long overdue. Animals as Leaders, Surrender the Crown (absolute highlight, thanks to SRW1’s Rock Club), Opeth, Within Temptation, the new Ayreon, Volbeat, and today as I write this: the brand new Taylor Swift. Perfect soundtrack for wandering the city.

By 8am I was off again. First stop: Castel Sant’Angelo. Sundays are Vatican-crowd days, so the metro was packed, but I squeezed in. I reached the castle just before 9am, skipped most of the sightseeing, and headed straight up to the rooftop café. Best move ever: three cappuccinos with a view of St. Peter’s. Hours went by, people rushed past, and I just sat there, soaking it in.

Later I wandered towards the Palatine. On the way I bought hiking shoes (always one size too small for my wide feet), had lunch where the waiter yelled at me for dipping my antipasto cheese in honey (apparently not allowed), and then finally entered the Palatine through a side entrance (pro tip!).

By 2pm I was stretched out on a cool marble bench in the shade, my body clock insisting it was 10pm. After a nap, I walked around the hill. And here it always hits me: a calm I don’t feel anywhere else.

Last year, I came here restless, stuck in a toxic situation. This year? Finally free. in this sense.