Brand New Day

Out With the Old…

It’s been a busy couple of weeks here in Rome. A lot has changed. Since the start of this year I’ve moved house twice, started a new role at work, and I’m still currently navigating the crazy, bureaucratic immigration system of this country. The latter being very boring and frustrating so I won’t dwell on it, but the moving house meant downsizing rather dramatically. Which of course required some serious clearing out. It is really quite a cathartic process decluttering and streamlining your possessions. Being forced to reduce your things due to a physical constraint really focuses the mind on the task in hand. I’m sure the friends who helped me move perhaps wouldn’t agree that I had only the essentials! But I’m starting to feel some semblance of being settled. I’ve a beautiful little home. A haven amongst both the physical and emotional chaos!

Whilst I’ve reduced the amount of my physical belongings, adversely, other areas of my life have grown. One being the friends I have here. Making friends as an adult is a strange thing. You can’t just go up to someone in the street and say “Will you be my friend?” It worked in the playground at school but now it might result in arrest! Instead, after the last few months I’m inclined to believe fate plays a part. Firstly though, I must thank my wonderful current chums; here in Rome, back in the UK and around the world. I couldn’t have a more supportive and fantastic bunch of people in my corner. I’m eternally grateful for everything they do. I was slightly concerned a large life change in a foreign country would be really isolating and scary but it’s not been the case at all. One good friend in particular has just left Rome to return to Australia, and I’ll miss her a lot. But I’ve realised it doesn’t matter where we are in the world, a true friendship eats up those miles and endures from afar. We often tell our partner that we love them. Or our parents or children. But I realised we rarely tell our friends. Why is that? Next time you speak to a good friend why not tell them what they mean to you…I’m certainly going to.

Then there are new friendships. The relationships that pop up out of nowhere. When you’re least expecting it. This has happened to me a couple of times recently, and to other people I know too. Perhaps there’s something in the air! The first occasion was when some new guides joined the company I work for. Whilst every one of my colleagues are just lovely, two newbies in particular left me feeling happy and energised after the initial meeting. I come away from spending time with them smiling. Both are very different, one an energetic Irish whirlwind that I’m convinced is sponsored by Duracell. The other a calming, centred beautiful human that provokes self reflection in a completely non judgemental way. I think we’re going to have some good adventures together!

The second interaction was a client of mine. I was doing a tour of Ostia Antica, the ancient Roman port town a short way out of the city. I had a group of five people, one of whom was a wonderful lady called Pauline. Pauline comes from Birmingham and she instantly lit up the group. Travelling alone and staying in accommodation run by nuns, she had many humorous stories to tell. She is a recently retired English teacher and she reminded me so much of my own wonderful English teacher Miss Stanier, from when I was at school. After the tour we kept in touch and I’m hugely indebted to her because she told me about a rare and exceptional opportunity that presented itself a couple of days later.

Throughout the year Rome opens up historical sites as special, one-of-a kind events. In true Italian fashion they don’t publicise these. Luckily for me Pauline was in the know! There is one site in particular that has always captured my interest. Monte Testaccio. Ever since I saw Dan Snow talking about this unique place I was intrigued. The area of Testaccio is less touristy and offers a real sense of Roman life…as well as a very good food market! It’s also where the non-Catholic cemetery can be found and the pyramid of Gaius Cestius…one of my favourite monuments in the city! But back to Monte Testaccio…this has a fascinating history. Despite looking like a standard, inconspicuous hill it is in fact an ancient Roman rubbish tip! Testaccio is next to the Tiber river and it’s where the docks were located, where goods were offloaded and stored upon their arrival to Rome from the port of Ostia. One commodity that arrived here was olive oil. This oil was mainly imported from Spain and it was transported in terracotta amphorae. These amphorae were single use containers as the remnants left behind from the oil would contaminate any future batches, rendering them useless to be used again. So the amphorae were smashed in to small pieces and systematically piled in to a huge rubbish heap that forms this man-made hill that we still have today. How cool is that! Usually inaccessible, one Wednesday not so long ago it was opened to the public. I of course went! So did Pauline and we spent a very happy couple of hours walking around this 50 metre high hill marvelling at what we were stood upon. There were pieces of terracotta everywhere, in some places they were abundant and apparent as if someone had just put them there. In other places they’d been swallowed up by nature over the intervening centuries…epitomising the power the earth has upon the actions of man. This ancient waste heap was constructed over two centuries, from the time of Emperor Augustus in the 1st century BC to the end of the 2nd century AD and is thought to be made up of approximately 53 million amphorae! That’s a lot of oil! Both myself and Pauline were like kids in a sweet shop! Coffee and more chat ensued, where we discovered we had a scary amount in common. She might love Rome as much as I do so I’m certain she’ll be back and we’ll discover more together.

Then there was a third fate-led interaction. With my imminent house move on the horizon I saw a post on Facebook from someone selling a few things. I never buy anything on Facebook. But I liked the look of a couple of cushions adorned with palm trees and monkeys. I couldn’t tell you exactly why but I just liked them. So I asked to purchase them and arranged a time to journey across town to collect them. The seller was the most loveliest person called Julia and we instantly hit it off. In fact, I think we were stood on the street corner for about 45 minutes chatting away! She lives in one of my favourite districts of Rome called San Lorenzo and she invited me to join her Pub Quiz team, along with a couple of other ex-pats and her gorgeous Mum Elizabeth! I’m so grateful to have made another wonderful, new friend.

Sometimes things happen for reasons that can’t be explained. Whether it’s a mention of a Roman rubbish heap, a Facebook post you decide to click on one day, or a change from the norm which results in a meeting that would never have otherwise happened. Were these things always destined to play out or do we have chance to thank? I’m writing this on Good Friday 2026. I’m sat in my new, beautiful, tiny home and feeling extremely grateful. It is indeed a Good Friday. Seven years ago today I was told I had Cancer. A statement that I never imagined would be uttered from the mouth of the doctor in front of me. A few words that kicked off a series of actions that completely changed my life. Physically, it changed for a few months but mentally it changed forever. I’m eternally grateful to those friends and loved ones that helped me through it and I’m incredibly grateful to those by my side now. If you’re one of those people know that I love you. And to everyone reading this, why not tell those people in your life how much they mean to you…I’m almost certain you won’t regret saying it…but you may regret not saying it.

On Top of the World

I’ve recently come back from a few days in Madeira. I wanted to see my parents and the idea of catching up with them in sunnier climes was a much more appealing prospect than in the very soggy Blighty. So I left Rome very early one morning, took two flights, via Lisbon and was soon touching down on the Portuguese island of Madeira. This is a little green gem of an island off the northwest coast of Africa. Discovered in 1418 by the Portuguese, this volcanic island is known as the “Island of the Eternal Spring” thanks to it’s year-round mild climate. Being a mix of lush green peaks, little seaside towns and with the cultural capital Funchal it’s a destination that has something for everyone.

Exploring Funchal was a real delight, it’s the perfect place to wander aimlessly amongst it’s charmful little streets, stroll through its exotic gardens or people watch along the promenade. Of course I can highly recommend taking a tour! Mum and I booked on to a two hour walking tour of Funchal run by the Madeiran Heritage Programme. All the guides are volunteers and ours, Elea was fantastic. We learnt and saw so much. We covered everything from the first settlers on Madeira, to the meaning behind the name Funchal (it means fennel due to the vast amount of the wild herb originally found there) to perhaps most importantly the food and drink associated with Madeira! Amongst other places, we visited the Mercados dos Lavradores, the cathedral, Blandy’s Wine Lodge and Rua de Santa Maria. The latter being a beautiful, narrow, cobble-stoned street jam-packed with small shops and restaurants, which since 2010 is home to more than 200 painted doorways in an attempt to rejuvenate the rundown old town. The tour was a great way to experience this vibrant, small city.

Another high point of the trip was the obligatory famous Monte Toboggan Ride. This unique experience sees visitors jumping in to a wicker sled and whizzing down the steep streets of Monte, the uphill suburb of Funchal. The thrilling ride takes about 10 minutes and covers approximately 2 km. The traditional toboggans are guided by two carreiros, guys in white uniforms and straw hats who use their thick rubber-soled boots to brake and steer the wicker sleds. This quirky tradition dates back to around 1850 when it was introduced as a method for the locals to quickly descend from the hilly village of Monte to the streets of Funchal below. It was great fun! Whilst mostly it was a pleasant ride down the hill, there were a few hair-raising moments as we drifted round corners and came a bit too close for comfort to parked cars along the street! It was for this reason we decided to partake in a poncha at the bottom to settle our nerves. A poncha is a traditional, Madeiran drink made of sugar cane spirit, honey and lemon juice, usually enjoyed by the locals stood at the bar in the same way Italians take an espresso. One was certainly enough for us!

However, the absolute highlight of my five day Madeira jaunt was slightly more active. Madeira is famous for its hiking. Thanks to the islands extensive network of levadas, it offers walks to suit all levels of desired exertion. Levadas are little irrigation channels which transport water from the wetter, lush peaks of the north to the drier areas of the south. There’s around 3,000 km of them, travelling through lush forests, dark tunnels and dramatic waterfalls. If hiking is your main reason for visiting Madeira I’d recommend hiring a car but given that I was at the whim of public transport my options were slightly restricted. I had decided to head up to the second highest peak on the island via bus and walk along the PR1 trail to the highest peak and back. However, this plan was scuppered somewhat upon discovering that with the exception of the first kilometre and a half, the trail was closed due to wild fires. I had to rethink. I soon made a new plan and the following morning I filled my new backpack, laced up the hiking shoes and set off at 5:30 am to catch the 6 o’clock bus. It was long before daybreak and the twinkling lights of the city were dancing in the reflection of the harbour as I walked along the deserted promenade. I took the bus up to the second highest peak of the island, Pico do Arieiro, as I’d been recommended to witness the sunrise from up there. The conditions at the top were far removed from the balmy night down below. At just below 6,000 ft high the wind was whipping and whistling around the jagged peaks. Not that I could see them! It was pitch black! Having layered up and lit the torch on my phone I set off along the PR1 for as far as I could go. I’d been recommended by friends to go past the usually crowded first viewpoint and head further along the trail, which is exactly what I did. As I gingerly walked along a mix of steep stepped sections and narrow paths I had a feeling the darkness was hiding some pretty dramatic drops to either side! This was later confirmed on my return! I soon reached the point where the path was barricaded and I took shelter from the whistling wind, far from the other torchlights and distant voices and waited for sunrise.

It’s not often I’m lost for words. Even writing this I don’t know if there’s enough superlatives to do this experience justice. I’ll try, but this really should be experienced first hand. Over the course of the next 45 minutes or so the sky changed colour from it’s inky blackness, to dark blue, deep red, bright orange and a beautiful azure. Each shade changing the whole landscape. As the sun slowly inched above the horizon, the details on the surrounding rockface became more and more clear, as though someone was increasing the clarity on a TV screen. The jagged teeth of the rocky promontories became more defined. But the most incredible part was that this whole scene was all taking place above the cloud! The fluffy layer of cloud stretched far away to the horizon, like a blanket of cotton wool protecting the world below. It was just absolutely breath taking. I really felt as though I was on top of the world. Often, in moments like that, one would think they should be shared with someone else. And yes, whilst it would have been nice to have someone there to witness it with me, to hold their hand whilst watching the natural spectacle that was unfolding, it was almost too big. Too important. Too magnified. Everything else became insignificant. Nothing else mattered in that moment. The only thing that was important was that the sun broke through that fluffy blanket and filled the mountain top with it’s warmth. I again felt at peace.

I had to eventually tear myself away from the mesmerising view as it was time to put in some effort and burn off the pasta del natas I’d enjoyed the day before. As PR1 was no longer an option, I decided to take PR3….down the mountain…..then climb back up! For the next few hours I was in seventh heaven. The crowds swarming around the peak, the cafe and parking lot soon thinned out to the point where I was completely alone on the trail. The sun by now was already a fierce ball in the sky, the bright blue stretched never endingly above me and the reassuring blanket of cloud was nestled below. I descended down to Ribeira das Cales at around 3,700 ft. The path was a wonderful mix of rocky outcrops, mossy heathland, stony canyons and shaded pine forest. The latter had the most wonderful smell as the sun’s heat created a natural pine air freshener. My thighs were quite grateful that the descent was coming to an end and the sight of the beautifully located Forest cafe nestled in a small valley was extremely welcome. After enjoying an espresso, passionfruit juice and an enormous slice of passionfruit cake I set off again. This time the calves were to get the workout! I followed the road for a little way with the intention of picking up a path alongside a levada. I soon found the levada but no sign of a path. Perhaps it was because it was too steep and a bit of clambering was involved! Nevertheless, a fan of adventure, undeterred I followed the babbling irrigation channel and after a mile or so of clambering over fallen trees, scraping my way through brambles I emerged at a road crossing where the path did become evident. Despite the accessibility I didn’t see anyone else on this stretch of levada and thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet. Just the chirping of birds and the trickling of water as a soundtrack. I then re-joined PR3 and made my way back up to the summit where I’d started before sunrise. I can honestly say it’s one of the best hikes I’ve ever done.

The adventure continued, as I didn’t fancy hanging around for two hours waiting for the bus back down. So I asked the milling throngs if anyone was heading down the mountain. A lovely Austrian couple took me part of the way where I then started walking with my thumb out. The first car stopped for me, making my first foray in to hitch-hiking very short-lived. This time it was a gorgeous German family who kindly took me all the way down to Funchal. Acts of random kindness like that never cease to amaze me and restores ones faith in humanity. As well as thoroughly enjoying the whole day, having covered 13 miles with a decent amount of elevation gain I also thoroughly enjoyed the delicious steak dinner with my Mum and Stepdad that night! What a day! What a trip! Thank you Madeira…..I’ve a feeling I’ll be back!

Strava Hike Link – https://strava.app.link/zAl8PI0100b

Peace At Last

This morning I woke up early. In fact I hadn’t really slept much. Rather than try and fight the inevitable I decided to embrace it and get up. I donned my running gear, laced up my trainers and headed out the door before sunrise. I’ve recently started enjoying running again. The clearing-the-head effect it has is quite welcome at the moment and for some reason I decided to go in a different direction to normal. I slowly dragged myself up the Janiculum hill, a steep hill named after the double headed god Janus, because from the top one could see the land of the Romans on one side and the land of the Etruscans on the other. There’s a piazza up there with a huge equestrian statue of Garibaldi; commandingly surveying the city below from his steed. The refreshment traders were pulling up their trailer shutters and shaking the rain from the canopies. From the terrace the whole city spreads out before you in all its beauty. The skyline a wonderful mix of church domes, palazzos and iconic monuments. The terrace is a popular place to enjoy the city views, particularly with couples of an evening. But this morning I was one of only a handful of people. As I stood and admired the beauty below it was as though the city itself was slowly waking from it’s slumber; shaking off its hazy blanket from a soggy night of rain, the pink and orange hues of the sky were reflected in the mottled clouds. Despite the cool air pricking my bare arms I decided to stay and watch the sun creep up over the clouds in the distance. The mountains behind enveloping the scene in a reassuring embrace. The ascending sun transformed the city, its warm glow continuously highlighting different parts and soon the ball of orange fully emerged from it’s fluffy shield. The dark, black puddles on the cobblestones at my feet had soon become mirrors of orange and yellow.

I had an overwhelming sense of peace and calm wash over me. I’m pleased I decided to go in a different direction. I needed to see Rome from up there, in that way, as though it was reminding me how incredible it is and how, despite challenges, being there in that moment was worth it. Peace is a word I find myself keeping coming back to at the moment. Sometimes perhaps a different direction is needed in order to find it. During the remainder of my run my mind wandered and thought about the ways in which peace is found. I came to the conclusion, that for me, it isn’t necessarily in solitude. It’s as much about interactions and relationships with people than it is about sunrises or sunsets. The calming effect of speaking to a certain person when you feel upset or anxious is a small but wonderful gift. Whatever the range of emotions you have been feeling, by hearing their voice, their advice and their reassurance that everything will be OK restores that balance and serenity. I’m not sure they always know they’re doing it. Perhaps you have that effect on someone…perhaps I do. But either way it metaphorically feels like coming home and that peace is restored.

I love witnessing the effect of peace on others too. Some of my favourite moments of the previous year were witnessing the reactions of people passing through the holy doors of the Papal Basilicas. The one that got the most wonderous reactions was St Paul’s outside the walls. Countless times I would enter first, walk in to the nave and turn back to wait for my clients. And countless times I was so moved by their reaction to the incredible interior that they found themselves in, as though they had taken a deep, restorative breath. One reaction in particular stood out and will stay with me forever. It was the 3rd of June and my clients that day were the most gorgeous family from Texas. Three generations; two grandparents, two parents and three grandchildren. They had saved up for years to make this trip and just to see how close they were as a family was a beautiful thing. I gave them some space to enjoy the holy door and went ahead as usual to wait in the nave. When I turned to look back the grandfather was awestruck. He looked up and around the vast basilica and as I watched he wiped tears from his eyes. As some of you will know if someone else cries I then start too! So before I knew it we were both stood in the church crying! I remember him telling me how peaceful he felt. I had to agree, of all the religious buildings I’d visited this was the most serene. I highly recommend visiting it if you come to Rome.

Another observational moment of peace from this week was at the “Flowers” exhibit in the Chiostro del Bramante. This beautiful, interactive installation combines art, nature, history and even politics to take the visitor on a wonderful journey through the world of flowers. In one room in particular there is a sofa-type affair in the middle where the visitor can lie down on their back and look up at the installation above, created by Studio Drift to represent the combination of technology and nature. The viewer watches the gorgeous clockwork flowers open and close above them. But what struck me most was, as I waited for my friend, I was watching the group of teenagers, probably on a school trip, who filled the sofa after us. They were all laying there, heads together at the centre, looking up at the art. There was no shouting or cracking jokes, no boisterous behaviour and above all there wasn’t a mobile phone in sight. They were still, quiet and calm as they shared in the experience of witnessing the changing colours above them. It was really lovely to see.

“Peace at Last” was a favourite book of ours as children. A lovely little tale by Jill Murphy telling the story of Mr Bear trying to get to sleep. Whilst it might not be the most profound tale, it does result in Mr Bear enjoying a nice cup of tea; the reassuring, classic British solution to all problems. So whether peace for you can be found in a sunrise, a conversation, a good book or a hug-in-a-mug I hope this year is a year of peace for you too.

It was one of those days….

Last week started off with one of those days that just will not go to plan, despite how hard you try. I’ve realised it’s best sometimes to just embrace that, go with whatever the day throws at you and write it off.

I was scheduled to do a Catacombs and Crypts tour. Not the usual small group though, this was a private booking for a three hour visit to include private pick up, a visit to the Catacombs, then back to the Capuchin Crypts. There are several Catacombs which one can visit whilst visiting Rome. They’re all outside of the city walls, as one of the rules of Ancient Rome was that the dead were to be buried beyond the city limits. These locations were initially quarries which were then repurposed as burial sites. Whilst they no longer contain remains they are networks and labyrinths of tunnels, chambers and tombs with some beautiful decorations and some of the earliest Christian artwork that exists. The most popular ones to visit are the the catacombs of San Calisto, Priscilla and San Sebastiano. The latter of which I was due to take my three clients to as part of Monday’s tour. The night before, I decided to check something on their website and discovered that they were in fact closed the following day. Dammit. I quickly started searching for another one to substitute. The next one I checked…also closed, then the next, then the next. Turns out, thanks to seasonal maintenance work, there wasn’t a single catacombs site open on Monday. Disaster!

So I had to greet the customers at their beautiful hotel the following morning and do something which I absolutely hate doing; start a tour with bad news! (Incidentally, it was not the first time I had to do that. The other week the closing of the Holy Doors took many people by surprise and having to deliver that news to one group resulted in tears from one lovely lady. As well as me feeling extremely sorry for the man who had battled stage 4 cancer all year and was only just fit enough to make the journey from the USA to Rome, specifically to go through the Holy Doors! What a disaster!)

Anyway, I was really hoping these clients were first time visitors to Rome so I could whizz them round the city in the luxury minivan and allow the beauty and monuments to compensate. Unfortunately, they had visited many times before and requested just to do the Crypts part of the tour instead. So off we went to the Capuchin Crypts that are located on Via Veneto.

I love doing tours here, it’s a wonderfully unique place with such an intriguing history. The Order of the Capuchin Friars was founded in 1528 in Viterbo by two brothers Matteo and Ludovico. They disagreed with the relaxing views of the Franciscan Order which had been founded by St Francis of Assisi in 1209 and wanted to create a stricter order focused on piety, penance and poverty for the purpose of serving those in need. They came to Rome in 1529 but at the end of that century they were forced to relocate after a severe flood. Eventually, after several different locations Pope Urban VIII of the Barberini family constructed a new, permanent home for the friars which they inhabited in 1631. This complex includes six small chambers or crypts underneath the church which have been creatively decorated in a rather unusual way…with bones. There are many stories surrounding how this came to be but the most accepted is that the bones were from 3,700 skeletons of past friars which were collected from the previous friaries and left in these chambers. Sometime between 1732 and 1775 an artist on the run took sanctuary here and spent his time rather wisely! He decorated the crypts in a weirdly wonderful way, full of symbolism linking back to the order. I recommend adding this to your list of places to visit in Rome.

So on this particular doomed morning, I arrived with my three lovely clients, a mother, father and daughter from the USA. However, the crypts didn’t actually open for another 15 minutes! This really wasn’t going well! I filled the time with chat and a look around the church before finally entering the crypts. However, it went from bad to worse. The admission team informed me of a rule change and since the start of the new year only specific guides could carry out tours inside! I begged them to let me do just this one as I was already there with the customers but instead was just thrust the piece of paper stating the new rule! I couldn’t believe it! I then had to explain all the history and information to the clients outside, I went in with them under the strict instructions not to explain anything to them at all! I spent the next hour subtly talking out the corner of my mouth and trying not to point! What a disaster! Luckily, I was blessed with lovely clients who were exceedingly understanding and grateful nonetheless.

My day continued on the theme of epic failure as I decided to detour on my way home, to go and see the two angel statues created by Bernini. They were originally created for the Ponte St Angelo bridge, but Pope Clement IX deemed them far too precious to be left outside in the elements so took them for himself. They’ve subsequently ended up in one of Rome’s many churches! As I entered the church, the bell rang to mark the beginning of the noon mass. I turned to leave, thinking a return visit another day was needed. I heard the opening phrases from the priest and I realised he was talking in English. I turned back around and something pulled me to a pew and encouraged me to stay. So I ended up attending mass! After which, I realised I had read duff information and it wasn’t even that church which housed Bernini’s angels after all! I gave up, went home and had a cup of tea! Hopefully the rest of the week wouldn’t carry on in the same vein!

A New Chapter

(Warning: A self-indulgent, reflective post ensues. Normal sight-seeing recommendations will resume shortly.)

Have you ever experienced the following feeling? You’re in a bookshop; a peaceful little haven of tranquillity. A slice of paradise away from the hustle and bustle of the tech-filled modern world. A rare vestige of time gone by. You’re blissfully perusing the shelves, ignoring all other demands on your time. In situations such as these time stands still. You could be in there for five minutes or perhaps an hour. Maybe you’re attracted to the title, the cover or the genre. But when you settle on something that tempts you, you pull it from its space on the shelf, you turn it over and lose yourself in reading the blurb and get a sense of intrigue, excitement, anticipation or if you’re lucky, all three. You know it’s going to be impossible to walk out of the shop without that book. Isn’t that one of the best feelings in the world? To be excited by something that you don’t yet fully know or understand but you’re sure the experience of it can only enrich your life.

I feel slightly like that at this point in my life. I was recently in a bookshop. I had nowhere to be. No one demanding my attention. I was able to fully immerse myself in those moments of unbridled joy. Just me and those pages. A rare guilty pleasure. It was of course no coincidence that I left as the grateful new owner of Marco Polo’s The Travels and Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, two classics that epitomise two of my greatest passions: travel and history. Instead of ‘A New Chapter’ this article should perhaps be entitled ‘A New Book’, because that’s how significant I feel the recent changes in my life have been. Some of you reading this will know me extremely well, some less so and some won’t know me at all. But due to some significant changes in my life, it feels like my whole existence has been flipped on it’s head. I’m no longer a wife, a dependent, a significant other. Whilst this could leave one feeling unanchored and adrift, I instead have those same feelings of intrigue and excitement when you land on one of those books. Readers of these posts will know that someone significant in my life (both she and I didn’t perhaps know at the time how significant her and her words would become) once told me to “climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, smile more and cry less. Life should be lived as we go along.” If I’ve learnt anything from previous years, it’s that life is too short not to be happy. I’m not talking about just managing or getting by. I mean a life that brings you joy. Not just to you, but to those around you as well. If that isn’t happening then perhaps something has to change. Initially I felt a sense of failure. Those that know me, know that I don’t like to fail or quit at anything. Giving up is not in my wheelhouse. But then I realised that wasn’t the case at all. It was accepting the situation for what it is, addressing it and making the necessary changes to fully live life for all of those involved. Whilst that wasn’t the vision five, ten, twenty years ago it’s realising that doesn’t actually matter. Life is a full, exciting rollercoaster of a journey with twists and turns, dips and rises that makes it what it is. There’s no point trying to control where those tracks take you, it’s a futile exercise. There’s no changing the direction or trajectory, so we may as well embrace it, raise our hands to the sky and enjoy the ride.

“It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men and women mad, it’s the regret of yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.”

I don’t think there’s many other places on earth where one can feel such a tiny, insignificant cog in the machine that we call life, as here in Rome. Alright, there are older civilizations but have they had the same impact on the world. I count myself lucky everyday that I get to call this city home. A city that was founded nearly 2,780 years ago. On April 21st 753 BC to be precise. I love this place. I love the people. I love the history. Now I just need to figure out a way to navigate the bureaucracy and find a way to stay here. To continue doing what I love in the most incredible city on Earth.

A New Pope – History in the Making

Once again it’s been a while since I’ve written anything but recent events here in Rome have compelled me to document the afternoon of May 7th, so future me can’t possibly forget.

With the news of Pope Francis’s death on Monday, 21st April, there was a sombre atmosphere in the city. However, with the conclusion of the funeral arrangements, this soon morphed into a sense of anticipation as all eyes turned to the Sistine Chapel for the traditional conclave. I’m not a Catholic, or in fact particularly religious at all. However, over recent months, my interest in the Catholic world has increased. One of the tours I regularly carry out is called the Three Basilicas, where we visit three of the four papal basilicas in Rome. These are Saint Mary Major, Saint Paul’s outside the walls and Saint John’s in the Lateran. Needless to say I’ve learnt a huge amount about these beautiful basilicas, which all have an open holy door as we are currently in a Jubilee year. All three sanctuaries are distinctly different and have very varied architectural styles, despite all dating back to the fourth century. Because I spend so much time in these beautiful places (sometimes walking through a holy door up to 24 times a week!) where I’m surrounded by tombs of past popes or regaling the lives of saints, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the current situation at the Vatican.

Conclave started on May 7th. The cardinals entered the Sistine Chapel in the afternoon, the usual prayers were recited and the famous words “extra omnes” were announced. Meaning all extra personnel were to leave. Whilst it was very unlikely white smoke would be seen on the first vote we decided to go down and watch anyway. I wanted to see some smoke, no matter what the colour, to witness a small piece of history. So off we went to St Peters. Well Via delle Conciliazione to be precise, the road leading up to St Peter’s square from Castel Sant’Angelo. I met my friend Emma, who lives nearby and we stood soaking in the excited atmosphere for a couple of hours. People started to get restless, quizzical expressions were exchanged amongst the crowd, what was the delay? The rumour mill soon started grinding. But due to a prior engagement, we had to call time and leave. The black smoke eventually appeared soon after 9pm.

The following day I had a tour so I couldn’t return for the morning session. It was black smoke again. Mid-afternoon approached, it was hot, I was tired, the hours of waiting the evening before didn’t compel me to try again. However, something told me I should go. So I grabbed Peggy and we cycled down in to town. I felt sure it was still too early for a result but I didn’t care, the atmosphere was so lovely and jovial and I was just happy to witness smoke of any colour. By the time I’d made it through the security check, it was about 5pm; I joined the thousands of other people milling about in St Peter’s Square. People were sat leaning against the barriers, gathered in the slither of shadow cast by the giant obelisk or some even sat cross-legged playing cards. I also assumed the latter position right in the middle next to a gorgeous Mexican family. Their little two-year-old boy Nicolas and Peggy were soon firm friends. It always amazes me how easy it is to overcome a language barrier, the language of laughter is truly universal. He really was the cutest little boy and he was so gentle with Peggy. His father told me how they were on a big European trip and like so many other people had decided to see if they could also witness some smoke emerge from the chimney. An hour or so of sitting in the sun and playing games soon disappeared. 6pm ticked by and we all assumed we were between the two afternoon votes by now, I’d resigned myself to the fact that it would likely be another hour at least. I’d just glanced down at my phone when shrieking and cheering broke out all around. I looked up at the sight of plumes of white smoke pouring out of the chimney high up on the roof of the Sistine Chapel. Everyone jumped to their feet and started clapping and cheering. They’d done it. On the fourth vote, they’d elected a new Pope. Even Peggy joined in the celebrations by barking furiously! The emotion was palpable. I found myself choking up and tears started flowing. The little boy was in his Dad’s arms and we all hugged. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t there with anyone else, we were all witnessing history being made together.

The relaxed ambience had changed instantly, people started rushing forwards towards St Peter’s Basilica to get the best view of the balcony. Soon there wasn’t a spare inch of space as more and more people rushed to fill the piazza to glimpse the new Pope for the first time. I found myself joining the flow forward and before long Peggy and I assumed a new position. She in my arms whilst we all stood and waited. After about an hour the balcony doors finally opened, an announcement was made which no one could really hear and the new Pope emerged on to the balcony. From the surrounding Italians I heard “Chi e?” “Who is it?” and finally someone shouted “Americano”. Due to the lack of phone signal no one could consult the news channels. But it didn’t matter, we listened to Pope Leo XIV’s address, cheered and clapped in the right places and before long Peggy and I were swept along with the joyous hoards of people leaving St Peter’s square.

What an incredible event to witness! I consider myself very lucky to have been there and I’m so thankful I listened to the inner voice telling me to go. Pope Francis has been entombed in Saint Mary Major, the first basilica on my tour. I’ve already taken many clients past his beautiful, simple tomb and I’ll undoubtedly take many more. I hope for the sake of the world, Pope Leo XIV continues his great work. It was clear, even to an atheist, that in St Peter’s Square on that Thursday afternoon, there were no wars, there wasn’t an ounce of hate, there was only unbridled love and joy; and that’s something really quite beautiful.

5 Must Visit Places for an Ancient Rome Experience

If you’d told me five years ago I would be spending my days guiding people around some of Rome’s coolest sights I would never have believed you! But here I am, doing just that and I absolutely love it!

It’s been a while since my last post, for which I apologise, but having lived in Rome for a while now it really feels like home. It’s a wonderful city with a surprise around every corner and full of incredible, friendly people. If Rome isn’t on your destination list…it should be! I feel so lucky to be able to make a difference to people’s holidays and show them some incredible places. Being a tour guide here really is the best job!

We all know about the big hitters in Rome…the Colosseum, the Forum, Trevi fountain, Pantheon etc but there is so much more! Places where there aren’t hordes of people elbowing each other to take selfies or follow their humungous tour groups. I thought I’d share some of them with you. If I had limited time in Rome these places would be top of my list. The best thing is, I can show you them if you like!

1. Baths of Caracalla

This archaeological site is right up there in my list of recommendations for your time in Rome. In order to truly get a sense of what Roman baths were really like, without leaving the city, this is the place. They were built between 212 and 216 AD by Emperor Caracalla and whilst not being the largest baths here in Rome (the Diocletian Baths were bigger) they give the best impression of what an Imperial bath complex was really like. There’s still intact towering archways and walls which would have been adorned with marble and the mosaics that lined the bottom of the pools and rooms are incredibly well preserved. The best thing? It’s usually much quieter than many of the other sights. The reason for this is it’s slightly further away from the city centre. However it’s still only a 15 minute walk from the Colosseum.

Top Tip: If you’re visiting in Summer why not check out their Summer concert programme.

Open: Tuesday – Sunday. Entry: 8 euros. Location: Viale delle Terme di Caracalla , 52

2. Via Appia Antica

If you continue heading out of the city past the baths of Caracalla, through Porta San Sebastiano you’ll eventually find yourself on the Appian Way. This is a wonderful place to visit to escape the crowds of the city. Built in 312BC this is the most important of all the Roman roads and once linked Rome to Brindisi, 580KM away. Lined with the quintessentially Roman stone pine trees and winding parallel tracks the uneven flagstones of the Appia Way provide a peaceful haven for walkers, cyclists and even horse riders alike. Adorned with ruined tombs, Roman villas and catacombs there’s still plenty to see. The Appia Way can be reached by public transport or you could hire bikes and explore on two wheels. If you’d like a guide to show you the way and tell you more then please get in touch.

Top Tip: If you chose to hire bikes make sure you also explore the nearby Parco Caffarella on your way back. It’s a green, tranquil oasis perfect for pedalling.

Open: All the time. Entry: Free Location: Via Appia Antica

3. Case Romane del Celio

This unassuming, tucked away museum on the Celio hill was such a wonderful surprise. Don’t let first impressions fool you, this site is much bigger than the entryway leads you to believe. As you enter you wind down into the underground of Rome where the layers of time are seemingly so apparent. This site is a historical lasagna, showcasing in all its glory each stage of its life from it’s origins as a 2nd century luxury house (domus) to multi-storey living quarters (insula) and back to a domus in the 4th century linked to the Basilica of St John and St Paul which stands above. The 20 underground rooms are a delightful rabbit warren of tangible history. If that wasn’t enough some are still gloriously decorated with the original frescoes.

Top Tip: The Archaeological Park of Celio is situated behind the Case Romane and offers an escape from the hustle and bustle as well as a view of the colosseum. Best thing is….it’s free!

Open: Monday – Sunday. Entry: 10 euros. Location: Clivo di Scauro, 00184 Roma RM

4. The National Roman Museum – Palazzo Massimo

If your time in Rome allows for only one museum visit, surely this one is a strong contender. Particularly if you are interested in Ancient Rome. Unlike many of it’s city’s counterparts this museum is often more tranquil but boasts a superb collection of archaeological exhibits. A collection made up of mosaics, frescoes, sculptures, stuccoes and sarcophagi; a beautiful selection carefully curated to showcase the findings from archaeological digs in and around Rome since 1870.

Top Tip: Start at the top! Go straight to the third floor because you don’t want to run out of time and miss the incredible frescoes from the Villa of Livia (third wife of Emperor Augustus. Take a few moments to sit and surround yourself with the beautifully delicate garden frescoes from Livia’s Dining Room (triclinium) depicting a laurel grove, from where the laurel wreaths that adorned the heads of Emperors grew.

Open: Tuesday – Sunday. Entry: 8 euros. Location: Largo di Villa Peretti, 2, 00185 Roma RM

5. Ostia Antica

Think Pompeii….but with way less tourists! That’s the best way to describe this often over-looked archaeological site of Rome’s first colony. Of all the tours I do, I have to say this has become my favourite. The remains of this ancient town provide visitors with an unparalleled sense of what life was really like back in Ancient Rome. Just a 25 minute train journey out of the city, Ostia Antica can be reached quickly and economically, making it the perfect destination for a morning visit (I recommend longer if you have time!) and not sacrificing your precious time travelling. All characteristics of a Roman settlement can be found here; from temples and houses dating back to the Roman Republic era to huge warehouses, bath complexes, mills, a theatre and even a wine bar. There is so much to see. Why not allow me to guide you around so you don’t miss the best bits! There’s also a cafe and museum which houses many of the artifacts discovered on site.

Top Tip: Most of the statues on display are copies but the originals are housed in the museum….a must visit.

Open: Tuesday – Sunday. Entry: 18 euros Location: Viale dei Romagnoli, 717, 00119 Roma RM

Whether you decide to visit the above places or not, I really hope you have a wonderful time in Rome. The Eternal City already has my heart and I can’t wait for the all the adventures to come.

Please feel free to email me if you’d like more information on what tours I offer. Or check out my Facebook and Instagram (@rome_with_rebecca) pages.

First Rome Visitor

The initial few weeks here in Rome have been quite full on! For Allan it’s been a Prime Ministerial visit, a Royal Visit and a G7 Defence Summit. For me I’ve hosted an even more important visitor (my Mum) and I’ve been getting stuck in to two tour guiding jobs, one by bike around the city sights and the other a walking food tour. As you’d expect, I’ve taken the business of learning all there is to know about the Roman food and drink scene extremely seriously!

If I thought the few days of having my wonderful Mum visit would mean a slight pause and an opportunity to take the foot off the gas, I could think again! We walked, cycled and ate our way around the city. Mum had visited Rome before, so the touristy things weren’t too high on the priority list. With the exception of participating in one of my cycle tours! The sun was shining and the skies were blue as I led her and ten others through the packed streets of Rome to take in the main highlights. Cycling in Rome isn’t as daunting as it might appear but it certainly isn’t for the faint hearted. Mum took it all in her stride though and was whizzing along with the rest of us; the rest being mainly Dutch who cycle literally everywhere!

The cultural highlights of Mum’s stay consisted of Galleria Borghese and a day trip to Castel Gandolfo. The former is a beautiful art collection housed in Villa Borghese surrounded by beautiful parkland. The Borghese family originated from Siena and is the family from which Pope Paul V (1605-1621) descends from. His favourite nephew, Cardinal Scipione Caffarelli Borghese was responsible for the collection of many of the masterpieces housed in the gallery today. The highlights of which include original Roman mosaics, pieces by Raphael, Caravaggio and my favourite sculptor, Bernini. We booked the last time slot of the day so the light was fading and as we approached closing time the crowds dissipated meaning we were able to enjoy these magnificent pieces of art in relative peace. The stand out piece for me was Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne. This jaw-droppingly beautiful piece of marble depicts the myth in which Apollo, the Greek God, belittles Eros (Cupid as he later came to be known) and tells him to leave war-like weapons to mighty gods such as himself. In an act of revenge Eros unleashed two arrows: one sharp and gold-tipped and another blunt and lead-tipped. The sharp, gold-tipped arrow pierced the heart of Apollo inflaming his love for Daphne, a beautiful nymph, daughter of the river god Peneus, while the blunt, lead-tipped arrow struck the nymph creating an intense aversion to love. As a result she was constantly trying to escape Apollo’s advances, to the point where she begged her father to help. In order to stop Apollo he turned Daphne in to a laurel tree (laurel as such became known as Daphne in Greek.) Apollo was heart-broken at the loss of Daphne and to remember her for ever, he made the laurel the symbol of tribute to poets. The Bernini creation really captures the movement of Apollo chasing after the nymph in a way that I’d never seen on a sculpture before. Furthermore, if you start on Apollo’s right hand side and walk around the statue it seemingly transforms from the complete female form of Daphne to a near complete tree, it is absolutely mind blowing!

Our second culture hit was out at the hill top town of Castel Gandolfo which perches on the edge of Lake Albano, less than an hour out of the city. It’s a quaint, picturesque village which houses the Pope’s Summer Residence. It was here where we spent a very interesting couple of hours learning about the Popes, touring the rooms and gardens and admiring objects such as robes, slippers and thrones. The site was originally home to Emperor Domitian’s Villa in the first century AD. Then the Pontifical Palace was constructed here between 1624 and 1626 by Pope Urban VII Barberini. The Papal grounds cover an area of approximately 135 acres and also include two convents, a school, extensive gardens, an observatory and even a farm which produces a basket of food that is delivered daily to the Pope’s table. Our tickets also included a guided tour of the Pope’s Secret Garden but the rest of the extensive gardens would have to wait until another day, as the clouds were looking rather threatening and judging by the grumbles from our tummies, lunch was calling!

We enjoyed the most delicious lunch of stuffed anchovies followed by divine hand made ravioli whilst taking in the view of the lake at Ristorante Pagnanelli. Afterwards we were invited to take a look in their wine cellar which was like entering a museum in itself. The spiral staircase descended down and down in to an endless network of tunnels and caves, all of which housed incredible collections of everything from corkscrews to coffee pots to kitchen utensils. The wine collection lined the cool, dark brick walls and on display were bottles signed by the likes of Keanu Reeves, Robert Duval, Kate Moss and many more celebrities. It really was most fascinating!

Unfortunately, it seemed that no sooner had it started Mum’s time here in Rome came to an abrupt end and we were heading back to the airport. The torrential rain that morning mirroring our moods. (Perhaps not Allan’s!) It was a fabulous few days full of laughter, love and creating happy memories. I’m looking forward to the many more trips like this that are to come! But for now, we were ready for a break (absolutely no reflection on my lovely Mum whatsoever!) It seemed like the last few weeks were non stop but a few days away in our favourite place would be very welcome. Look out for my next post to find out more.

From the sublime….

to the ridiculous…as the saying goes. There’s no more fitting phrase that sums up the last week for me. I don’t talk much on here about what my husband, Allan, does for work because until now it hasn’t really been integral to our adventures. But this week has been a bit different…….

We live in Rome because he’s the UK Naval and Air Attaché to Italy and the Defence Adviser to Malta. So he spends some time on the little Mediterranean island each month. (If you’ve seen some of the Royal Family based British press you may see where this story is heading. Alternatively, if you even vaguely know my Mum, you’ve probably already heard all about it!)

The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh have just spent four days on Malta to mark the 60th anniversary of the island’s independence and to celebrate its shared heritage with the UK…..as such, Allan has had quite a busy week.

I flew out to join him for a few days and it’s been a trip of two halves…..from one extreme to the other. Just as an example to illustrate the antithesis I’ve experienced this week, Monday night (whilst Allan was at a Commonwealth Reception) I hired a mountain bike, explored the island, enjoyed a couple of beers at a waterfront bar and devoured a Greek kebab from a food truck for dinner. In complete contrast, Tuesday night I accompanied Allan to a small dinner party at the Maltese Prime Minister’s residence, with the Duke and Duchess, where we all dined on a delicious four course dinner with wine pairing. Talk about pinch me moments!

I won’t bore you with every single detail of the trip but the days consisted of me alternating between being a horrendously sweaty mess in cycling gear and donning glad rags to attend a function or church service. The second day was the big one for Allan, he helped orchestrate a wreath laying ceremony on a small Maltese patrol vessel. Luckily they didn’t leave the main harbour of Valetta so his sea sickness didn’t kick in! They then docked at the Birgu waterfront next to a humongous super yacht where the Royal party disembarked and Allan escorted them along the quay to the Malta Maritime Museum. I, on the other hand, was risking life and limb in the madness of the Maltese traffic to get round to take some action shots. I locked up my bike, scrambled up a cliff path to take advantage of high ground to carry out my paparazzi role! Needless to say the photos were pretty terrible and the official ones were luckily much better. I also think I annoyed the personal protection officers as I got caught up in the following cavalcade of blacked out 4x4s crawling along the dock behind the visitors. A crazy woman on a mountain bike wasn’t the best look I suppose!

The rest of that day I spent exploring further south down the East side of the island. I found some deserted bays, great gravel tracks, some salt pans and long-abandoned fortified towers. Deciding to turn around and head back at Marsaskala I took a beautiful dip in the most pristine, clear water you’ve ever seen before facing the chaos of the city again. The island itself seems to be one of two extremes, it’s either hugely built up and chaotic or it’s deserted and quiet. The buildings are either luxurious complexes or tiny, run down shacks. It really is quite unlike anywhere else I’ve been. My favourite area was probably Vittoriosa (a spit of land the other side of the harbour to Valletta) which was a glorious rabbit warren of quiet, narrow streets and beautiful, colourful houses. Not easy to find one’s way out but it was so wonderful it didn’t seem to matter.

That evening was again a huge contrast to the day’s activities. I finally had the appropriate occasion for which I could wear my new dress; which my Mum bought me for a special occasion. So after getting ready we headed to the High Commissioner’s Residence where we met the Duke and the Duchess and joined the cavalcade which whisked us along with a blues and twos escort to Villa Francia where we were spending the evening with the Maltese Prime Minister, his family and a handful of select guests. The setting was the most beautiful palazzo you’ve ever seen. Adorned with immaculate formal gardens out the front, a red carpet led the way in to the 18th century building which was crammed with beautiful antiques and full of historical charm. We enjoyed a glass of champagne in a small reception room whilst being serenaded by a harpist before being led through to the dining room. This is where the evening took a slightly embarrassing turn for me; one of two awkward situations as it turned out! The seating plan for the oval table was outside the door, naturally the esteemed guests had gone ahead and were all stood behind their chairs waiting for everyone to be in place before being seated, there wasn’t a huge amount of room around the table so I excused myself as I shimmied past the Prime Minister’s wife and the Duke of Edinburgh to reach my chair at the far end of the table…..Only to get there and discover it wasn’t my chair at all and I had to shimmy all the way back towards the door where I started! I wanted the ground to open up!

I was seated next to the British Deputy High Commissioner on one side and the wife of the Prime Minister’s Chief of Staff on the other. An absolutely delicious four course dinner ensued, with wine pairings and I felt very accomplished as the evening wore on and I hadn’t spilt anything, knocked a glass over or used the wrong cutlery. The dessert was a typical Maltese date filled pastry which when the Prime Minister’s wife asked if I liked, I of course said I did, perhaps a bit too emphatically. (I’m not exactly someone who doesn’t enjoy a dessert!) She then asked me if I’d like another one. I said no I couldn’t possibly as I was really rather full but thank you very much. Mortifyingly, the next thing I know there’s a lull in conversation around the table and a waiter brings me a second plate of dessert!! Everyone turns to look and Prince Edward raises his eyebrows! I could have died! Thankfully the rest of the evening was short lived and it was soon all over. Give me a beer and Greek kebab any day!

The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind of more of the same, a bit of cycling, attending a church service at St Paul’s Cathedral (of which the main talking point was the ring of candles going up in a mass ball of flames during the last hymn! In typical British stoicism not a beat was missed whilst the fire was extinguished) and attending the Kings Birthday Party on the last evening. The latter was held on the lawn of the High Commissioner’s Residence and was a very pleasant evening (mainly as the food was fish and chips and a cheese board!)

I’m pleased to report normal service has been resumed, I’m back in Rome in my leggings with Peggy and a full schedule of cycle tours ahead! I’m sure these will be the first of many such events over the next few years but don’t worry, there’s no chance of it changing me!

Il mio primo giro in bici a Roma.

It’s become an unintentional tradition now for me to write about the first bike ride from wherever our new home is, so I feel I should continue on the same theme here in Rome. After living in Paris, where it was really difficult to escape the urban sprawl, unless you had at least a couple of spare hours and plenty of patience, I wasn’t particularly optimistic it would be any better here in Rome. So after being here a week I decided to give my trainers a rest and explore on two wheels.

We live not far from Villa Borghese Park, a vast, green expanse in the north-east of the city on the Pinciana Hill just outside the Aurelian walls. This English-style parkland was developed in 1606 by Cardinal Scipione Borghese who wished to convert his vineyard in to the city’s largest gardens. This 80 hectare park is dotted with lakes, fountains, statues and temples, offering relief from the mele of the city. Villa Borghese itself is now an art gallery…a treasure trove crammed full of pieces by the likes of Bernini, Caravaggio, Canova, Raphael, Rubens and many more and it is often a more tranquil setting than some of the better known museums in the city centre.

It’s here where my bike ride begins; early on a Saturday morning I wind my way through the park with only a handful of runners and dog walkers for company. A short distance the other side I soon arrive at the River Tiber where I cross and pick up a cycle lane. Paris was full of cycle lanes! The city council had invested millions in the cycling infrastructure of the city centre, making it much easier and safer to get around the city by bike. Here though, that’s not the case. Cycle lanes in the city centre are non existent, so I didn’t have high hopes for this one. However, how pleasantly surprised I was! This 10 mile stretch of (mostly) smooth, traffic free, tarmac was a cycling super highway that followed the river north out of the city. It’s shared with pedestrians, of which there were a few runners but it was mainly being used by cyclists. Visibility ahead is good enough to put the pedal down and put some effort in without being a risk to any other users. What a dream!

It comes to an end near a place called Prima Porta where I got slightly lost in a spaghetti junction of roads but before long I was on a climb out of the town where the buildings soon became less frequent, the numbers of cars reduced, car horns were replaced with bird song and rolling hills loomed in to sight. I was in the countryside! I must have looked slightly mad as, despite the increasing gradient, I couldn’t stop smiling.

What followed was a blissful hour of undulating hills; winding up through olive groves and whizzing down through pretty hillside settlements. The cute towns of Sacrofano and Formello, nestled in to rocky valleys, offered a selection of potential coffee stops; a necessity of any bike ride! A flat run back in to town on the bike path and before I knew it I was home, with just shy of 50 miles in my legs. My smile said it all! I’m sure to some people reading this it seems a bizarre thing to be so happy about but being a countryside girl city life can be a bit much and to not be able to ride my bike is an unappetizing prospect. After all I need to be able to burn off all the pizza, pasta and gelato!

I thought a move to Rome couldn’t get any better….but it just had!