This first section is a brief explanation of my Italy blog posts, which were inspired by my 2-week trip to Italy in May, 2025. Feel free to skip this section if you’ve read it before.
Dear Reader, If you read my Italy posts in the order in which they’ve come out, it may seem as though we hopped back and forth all over the country, but I have decided not to write these posts sequentially. I want to write about the things that interest me most, as the spirit moves me. For some topics, I may even combine cities. I hope that by doing so, you’ll find it a lot more interesting than if I just give you a tedious day by day description of our itinerary, as if I were your Aunt Mabel forcing you to sit down and watch all her Super 8 films of the family road trip to Niagara Falls from 1966.
If you have any questions, comments or suggestions about how I’m approaching this travelogue-within-a-blog, please let me know in the comments below!
One of the best ways to avoid the heat of the day and the crush of the tourists in Rome is to do things early in the morning or late in the evening. There are plenty of things to see that you can see only, or almost as well, from outside, without worrying about tickets or opening and closing times. And this city of 4 million people has very different vibes at different times of the day. This first post will cover our late evening experience.
When we arrived in Rome for the first time it was mid-afternoon, and we still had to check in to our AirBnB. Then we had to drop off our rental car at the airport (because even though Dear Husband had somehow managed not to put a single scratch on it despite narrow alleys and insane Italian drivers for 5 whole days, there was no way we were going to try driving around Rome!) and take the train back into town just in time to take a twilight tour of the Colosseum. We were excited about our first day, but we knew that after that magnificent tour (which will be blogged about on another day) most other sites would be closed. But… but… Rome! We still wanted to explore.
Not to worry. There are tons of things to see in Rome just by walking around, so we created our own late night walking tour from a list of things I had read about in guidebooks and on the Atlas Obscura website.
We were walking down the broad Via dei Fori Imperiali, and it was closed to traffic. While there was still a crush of people, the lack of vehicles gave us the sense of being somewhere else in time. As we headed toward the Roman Forum, we watched the sun sinking down below Capitoline Hill, and it lit up the chariots that sit atop the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II to perfection. Omigod, yes, we were in Rome.
The Roman Forum is closed at night, but we were to see it from various angles from outside the fence. Our first true glimpse of it was the backside of the ruins of the Basilica of Maxentius. The arches looked huge, but nothing compared to how they’d look when we got to actually enter the forum the next day. But on this day, what interested me most were the stone maps that were placed on the back wall, facing the street.
They show the expansion of the Roman Empire, from 753 BCE to 117 CE. Pretty fascinating, the growth. No wonder you can still see “Roma Caput Mundi” written here and there throughout the city. At one point, Rome was, indeed, the Head of the World.
These maps were actually commissioned by Mussolini in 1934. He loved to style his Fascist regime after the Roman Empire. He called it the Third Rome. At one point, there was a 5th map on the wall. I searched the internet for a close up image of it, but could only find this one, below, of all five. That last one was supposed to depict Mussolini’s future conquests, along with the expansion he had already made into Africa. That last map got yanked down in 1943 sometime after his Fascist Party was dissolved. It’s still in storage somewhere.
It was odd to think that we were looking at these maps while standing in the middle of the wide via that had been built by Mussolini. At one point, 17,000 of his black shirted soldiers marched proudly down this very street. That must have been a terrifying (or triumphant, depending on your state of denial) sight to behold. There’s so much dramatic history in Rome.
Speaking of history, throughout the city, you still see SPQR, the initials for a latin phrase, which, when translated, means “The Senate and People of Rome”. It refers to the government of the Roman Republic. But it’s still on street lights, public utilities, it’s all over the place. Nowadays, a well known joke is that it actually means, “Sono Pazzi Questi Romani” which translates as “They’re crazy, these Romans.”
At this point, we were feeling peckish, so we decided to have dinner at one of the many restaurants I had researched. I didn’t want to eat at tourist traps. I wanted to eat where the Romans ate! Major hint: NEVER eat at a restaurant where the waiters are outside trying to urge you inside. Food at those places is usually overpriced and very unsatisfactory.
By contrast, La Nuova Piazzetta is off on this quiet little side alley, and the long line of customers waiting outside is apparently a nightly thing. No need to usher anyone inside. (You’d think they’d provide benches for those waiting, but no. Still, the wait is worth it.) I suspect it would be impossible to order something that wasn’t absolutely delicious in this restaurant.
Now that we had refueled, we continued our walk. First stop was the Forum of Augustus. I was excited about my first Augustinian encounter, because I’d been reading a lot of Roman history to prepare for the trip, so I felt like I knew the guy (for good or ill). So it was like running into an old frenemy.
The man’s forum was inaugurated in 2 BC, and was built, primarily, to house the temple of Mars Ultor. Mars was the Roman God of War, and “Ultor” means he was in his guise as an avenger. Generals would head off to battle from this temple. They’d also bring the spoils of war back there upon return. The Senate would meet there when they were discussing war. Young men would have their coming-of-age ceremonies there. The Forum of Augustus was a testosterone-soaked venue. It was also used as an overflow space for legal proceedings.
In its heyday, the forum was also full of statues and inscriptions indicating Augustus’ many triumphs, as well as his Julian-Claudian family lineage all the way back to Romulus. (Supposedly. There’s no proof that Romulus was anything more than a mythological figure.) The entire forum was designed to reinforce his power and prestige. That was important. He had good reason to feel insecure. The Roman Empire’s elite were in constant danger of all manner of nefarious shenanigans, including assassination by close relatives.
As I gazed down at the forum from the sidewalks above, I kept thinking, “My God, Imperator Caesar Augustus walked right there! Love him or hate him, he was one of the most impactful humans to ever live. And he walked right there.
Right next to the Forum of Augustus is Trajan’s Forum. To get to it, you continue down that same sidewalk, passing several statues. The first is of Julius Caesar, the second is Augustus, and the third is Trajan, all in what Rick Steves calls “their ‘hailing a cab’ pose.” (And here you thought the cabs came before the hail. Tsk.)
Trajan’s Forum, the last one built in Rome, was inaugurated in the year 112, 110 years after that of Augustus, and it was easily twice as big. (It’s mind blowing to me that the Ancient Romans must have considered a lot of Ancient Rome to be relatively ancient, too.) This forum had a huge three-story marketplace that was full of shops (and which many consider to be the world’s first shopping mall), a basilica (which at the time was a word used not for a religious building, but for a civic building housing political, economic and judicial offices), two libraries, a temple to the deified Trajan, a triumphal arch, Trajan’s column, and a huge equestrian statue of Trajan. Later, a philosophical school was added.
Today, all that is left of Trajan’s Forum is an impressive section of the curved market building, some of the columns of the basilica, and, most importantly, Trajan’s column. I’m so happy that we got to see all this after dark. The way it was lit up added an air of mystique which might have been lost under the harsh glare of the sun.
The jewel in the crown of this forum is Trajan’s Column. Oh my god, the detail. If there had been time, I could have stared at this gorgeous bas relief masterpiece for hours.
The column, including its pedestal, is 115 feet high. It was erected, somehow, a year after the rest of the forum was complete. The story of Trajan’s victory in the Dacian Wars is told in vivid imagery, and it unfolds in a spiral all the way up the column. The carvings include 2,662 figures in 155 scenes. Trajan himself shows up 58 times, so an average of 2.5 times for every time the frieze winds around the column. (Dacia, in modern times, is comprised mainly of Romania, Moldova, and parts of Ukraine and Hungary)
We took a lot of pictures, but I’ll only show a few here, because if you go to the bottom of its Wikipedia Page, you will see 6 high resolution images of the column that allow you to zoom in and get a sharp image of every square inch of it from all angles. You can also view 113 monochrome images, in story order, here.
I can see at least two images of Trajan in the close up above. And then there’s this video that Dear Husband made just for you:
There’s a spiral staircase inside the column which leads to a viewing platform up top, but it’s closed to the public. The column used to be topped by a statue of Trajan, but that was pilfered for its metal in the Middle Ages, as so much of Rome was. Today it’s topped by a bronze of Saint Peter the Apostle. In other words, the column has been co-opted by Christianity, as so many ancient Roman monuments were.
With regret, we moved on. We had miles to go before we slept. Next stop: the youngest site we’d seek out on this night: The Victor Emmanuel II Monument. (Rulers do love to be monumentalized, don’t they?)
Some people call this building the Wedding Cake. I’m not the only person who refers to it as the Remington Typewriter Building. Every time I see an image of the place from a certain angle, I think of one of those classic old movies from the 1940’s with the fast-talking female reporter who was the smartest person in the room. And you have to admit…
It’s also called the Altar of the Fatherland. They broke ground on it in 1885, and inaugurated it in 1911 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the unification of Italy. There are some museums inside, and the crypt of the Unknown Soldier, but for me the primary draw was the architecture and the sculptures, so checking it out at night was enough. And all typewriter silliness aside, it is a beautiful building.
It did come at a weird time in history, though. The monument is named after the first king of Italy. Construction began on it during the reign of his son, the second king, Umberto 1. It was inaugurated during the reign of Umberto’s son, king #3: Victor Emmanuel III. And this guy really showed the family’s true colors. He supported Mussolini, and allowed in the Fascist Dictatorship by appointing Mussolini as prime minister.
When fascism finally fell apart in Italy, Victor Emmanuel III was exiled to Egypt for the rest of his life. Before he left, he tried placing his son Umberto II on the throne, but the guy only lasted in that capacity for a month before Italians decided it was time for their country to be a republic. That’s what it has been ever since. You have to wonder, given all that, what the average Italian now thinks of the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II
It’s not surprising that Italians feel so strongly about VEIII that even though the first king had the honor of having his tomb in the Pantheon, and his grandson and namesake did not, they did put a golden lamp with a continually burning flame in his honor over his grandfather’s tomb—and the tomb therefore has to be continually guarded to prevent vandalism. (Although, as with Trump, for some odd reason there are still Italians who think he was just great.)
Incidentally, Umberto I is also buried in the Pantheon, right across from the drama. Umberto II is buried in an abbey in France. There are still descendants running around who are called princes and princesses to this day, and they appear to be doing quite well for themselves.
So yeah, the Remington Typewriter Building has borne witness to quite a bit of royal history. I wonder if you could see the fascist parades from there. I wonder what the Nazis thought of this monument during the 9 months they occupied Rome.
From there, our next stop was the Mouth of Truth, but going there took us past a few other things, one of which was an unexpected delight for me. First, we walked up the Capitoline Stairway lined with its beautiful sculptures, toward the Capitoline Museum. In front of the museum is the Piazza del Campidoglio, with its beautiful fountain and its equestrian statue of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius (It’s only a copy-the much more impressive original is inside the museum).
What I didn’t realize, and what I’m still kicking myself about, is that Michelangelo, one of my heros, designed the entire piazza. Had I known that, I’d have taken a lot more pictures that showed more detail. But no. Tra la, tra la! We walked through one of Michelangelo’s creations like it was nothing. And we did it again the next day, in broad freakin’ daylight. So no pictures of note.
Do you see now why I do such extensive homework when I’m taking a major trip? Since I doubt I’ll pass that way again, it’s important to see as much as I can. I hate walking right past something without even giving it the attention it deserves. I didn’t discover my glaring oversight until we were back home. If that doesn’t lower my traveling Grade Point Average, then nothing will.
Anyway, so, yeah, wandered through like nothing… and then saw a stunning view of the Roman Forum from above from right behind the Capitoline Museum. While Rome wasn’t the birthplace of democracy, it is what today’s modern, representative democracies are modeled after. Gazing out over all this beautiful destruction, I was tempted to shout, “See what you got us into??? Thanks A LOT!!!”
For once, I managed to keep my thoughts to myself, because I knew I was headed toward the Mouth of Truth, so I’d already be pushing my luck. We descended the hill, and… BAM! Ran smack into something else I dearly wanted to see but thought we wouldn’t have time for. The Tarpeian Rock. I’d read about this place many times, and it had captured my imagination. I am fascinated by ancient Rome and its odd sense of justice.
Imagine this: You’re an ancient Roman, out buying fish in the market when you hear a scream. You look up just in time to see someone fall from a cliff and crash on the jagged rocks below. That would be horrifying to you or me, but for most people at that time, if they were taken by surprise by it, it was only because they hadn’t been keeping up with the local news. The Tarpeian Rock was one of the most popular execution methods for those who committed the most heinous crimes.
In Ancient Rome, if you were convicted of treason, murder, or perjury, or if you were a slave who had stolen from your master, not only did you have to die, but you had to do so very visibly so that others would think twice about committing those crimes themselves. Back then, the rock was 80 feet tall. It’s a lot shorter now as the land around it gets built up, but you can still get a sense of how terrifying this brutal end must have been for people. Sometimes, Romans would throw themselves off the rock from sheer shame if they knew they’d most likely be convicted of a crime. That way they could spare their family the humiliation and expense of a trial.
And back then, you could see the rock from quite a distance. It’s quite likely that most Romans had witnessed quite a few of these executions in their lifetimes. So, yeah, if you were out shopping for fish, heard a scream, looked up and saw someone fall, what you’d probably do is continue on about your business. Just an odd little piece of history that I never expected to see with my own eyes. Onward.
If you’ve ever seen the movie Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck and Eddie Albert, then you’ve seen the Mouth of Truth. If you’re a good little do bee, you’ll go to the Santa Maria in Cosmedin Church during the day, pay the entrance fee, stand in a long line, and have your photo op putting your hand in the mouth of truth to prove that you’ve never told a lie. (Supposedly if you are a liar, it bites your hand off.) But since it’s out on the church’s open portico, and closed off by a fence with wide gaps, if you don’t want to play by the rules, you can go during the off hours, stick your arm through the fencing, and take a picture of the mouth of truth without having to stand in line or lie about your truthfulness.
No one is quite sure what the original purpose was for the mouth of truth. Some think it was a manhole cover. If so, though, it would have been a trip hazard. Perhaps a well cover? Either way, if you ever had to lift that cover, you’d not be living your best life. Others say it must have been part of a fountain, or a way to drain off blood during animal sacrifices.
I will say, though, that it does look like the church is really pretty inside, and it’s said that if you go in, you get to see the severed head of St. Valentine. So maybe standing in line wouldn’t be so bad if you had the time and the inclination. (The inclination is an extremely important factor when it comes to severed heads.)
While trying to focus on Audrey Hepburn rather than on severed heads or severed hands, we wandered over to the nearby Temple of Hercules Victor. This is the oldest still standing marble building in Rome, and the second oldest building in the city.
In a metropolis full of stunning architecture, I have to say that this modest temple is my favorite building of all. Maybe it’s because I’m drawn to all things rounded. Sharp corners and angles are jarring to my autistically fine-tuned senses. But the moment I saw this temple, I wanted to live in it, provided I could roll back time and remove the extremely busy streets that surround it these days.
Within the circle of columns is a single circular room called a cella, and a statue of Hercules Victor would have stood in there on a pedestal. He would have appeared tall enough to nearly reach the roof. You’d have had to have gazed upward to view him. Automatic reverence. It is quite possible that the Mouth of Truth originated in this temple as well.
Given that it is believed to have been dedicated sometime between 143 and 132 BC, it’s a miracle it has made it to modern times in such good condition. Granted, it has been renovated and restored quite a bit over time, and no one knows what became of the statue of Hercules Victor.
Our photo doesn’t do it justice. To really get a sense of its charm, I recommend you visit this web page, which displays photos and artwork of it throughout history. While you do that, Dear Husband and I will turn our backs on this temple in order to look at the Temple of Portunus.
Durning that trun, though, we saw the Arch of Janus in the distance. It’s quite impressive. But by then my back was killing me, it was getting really late and it looked like we’d have to brave an intimidating amount of Italian traffic to get there, so we didn’t squeeze that in.
The Temple of Portunus was dedicated to the god of keys, doors, ports, livestock and granaries. This would have been a fitting place for such a temple, as this area, once called the Forum Boarium, was the cattle market. It was also right near the oldest stone bridge across the Tiber River, and the god Portunus was also known as a river god and a gateway god.
This temple is of a more standard design than that of its next-door neighbor. It is also an excellent example of how influenced the Romans were by Greek architecture. If we didn’t know any better, by looking at this building we’d have thought we were in Greece. It is believed that the temple was originally built in the 3rd or 4th century BC, and then was rebuilt between 120 and 80 BC.
Right across the street from the front door of the Temple of Portunus is the Casa dei Crescenzi. It was built between 1040 and 1065. This Medieval home was also built to guard the river harbors, and to charge a toll to cross Rome’s oldest bridge. In doing so, Signor Crescenzi made a small fortune.
The house is decorated with ancient Roman artifacts that the Crescenzi picked up throughout the city. While today we might raise an eyebrow at this type of pilfering. The owners attitude about it is defensively included in a very long inscription above the doorway: “It was not vanity which motivated me to build this house, but the desire to restore the ancient dignity of Rome.” It would be interesting to see this place inside, but it is not open to the public.
And what of the bridge on which the Crescenzi family charged tolls? The Pons Aemelius still stands. Sort of. Thousands of cars rush past it every day on the modern Ponte Palatino. The one remaining span (it used to have seven) of Rome’s oldest stone bridge stands in the middle of the Tiber River right next to that. It was built in 142 BC, and long before that there was a wooden bridge in the same location, so the Crescenzi had a lot of nerve charging a toll for bridges that were there long before they were.
After that, what I thought we were going to do was take a nice romantic walk north along the Tiber, seeing Tiber Island from a distance, then hop on a tram to give my back a rest and yet see more of the city, and from the tram, hop on the metro and get back to our AirBnB, perhaps stopping for some gelato on the way, and getting to bed at a relatively decent hour, having had a delightful introduction to Rome. Yeah. Best laid plans, and all that.
Well, the first bit was okay. The walk along the Tiber was pretty, as was the Island. But if anyone who draws the official metro map of Rome is listening, that Tram 8 line is deceptive. (I thought we could take it from Arenula to at least Trastavere if not to Manzoni. But nooooo…) But by the time I figured that out, we were in a part of the city where we would have had to have walked about another mile and a half to get to the nearest metro station, and my back was not having it. I was in agony. It was time for a taxi.
If you’ve ever tried to get a taxi late on a Saturday night in Rome when you don’t speak the language and all the taxi stands are deserted, then you might feel a tiny portion of our pain. Then add to that the fact that half the free world was in town for some event to celebrate Leo, the new Pope, and perhaps you can imagine it. And we were exhausted, and I was in pain, and I was autistically overwhelmed because I had screwed up and things weren’t going to plan, and, well, it was not the romantic ending to the day that I had envisioned. We wound up falling face first into bed at around 1 am.
But hey, we did get to see a lot of stuff! Here’s a map of our evening walk. Yes, it’s a lot. But if I could do it while my back was screaming at me every step of the way, having to take frequent breaks and relying on a TENS unit, I think most people could. But wear really good orthopedic shoes, drink lots of water, and prepare for the adventure of a lifetime.
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