Rome: An Easy, Mandatory Walking Tour

“What, we need to be Italian to get in?” Hess rebuffed the comely ragazza who had asked where we were from, as she collected our cover charge for Discoteca Radio Londra in (literally in — it’s a cave in an ancient pile of amphora shards) Rome’s hip Monte Testaccio. This being my first time back in town as anything other than a clueless youngster, as I considered how soave “Come, dobbiamo essere italiani per entrare?” had sounded in my friend’s immaculate Italian, I got a fresh glimpse of the language’s, shall we say, broader potential.

The entirety of Hess’s duties as summer intern at the American Embassy to the Vatican consisted of keeping staff entertained, and each morning scouring a few dozen international papers (that’s what we used back then, kids) for news relating to the Holy See, which he dutifully clipped and glue-sticked to folio-sized briefing sheets for his boss’s boss’s boss, the ambassador. So Hess had a lot of free time. Similarly, the orchestra and technical staff for the production of Le Nozze di Figaro for which I was in town to sing the role of Mozart’s curmudgeonly Dottore Bartolo, were union. Italian union. So I had a lot of free time.

Together, the two of us — well, the three of us, counting his Vespa PX 125, which we certainly must — spent that free time very well. Long before Agent Kujan and the rest of us would learn the unfortunate truth about Keyser Söze, Hess and I sat hillside in the Parco del Colle Oppio for an al fresco screening of I Soliti Sospetti (The Usual Suspects), on a giant screen dwarfed by the Colosseum looming behind it just across the street. We leaped heavenward in a spontaneous rapture when the pumps of the Fontanone fired up for the morning as we basked, after a night on the town, in dawn’s first beams over the Eternal City, Hess shouting, “R-r-r-r-r-oma, ti aaaaaamoooooo!” We expended considerable effort, and Lire not-a-few, in our self-appointed roles as municipal gelato inspectors.

My enterprising friend had stockpiled some Dolce & Gabbana Pour Homme samples, which we sprinkled so liberally that even a couple of decades later, the smell always takes me back to Rome. Thus properly marinated, we conspired (Hess playing Cyrano to supplement my much-weaker Italian) in coaxing in my direction the attention of Valentina, a lovely violinist in the opera orchestra, and did so with moderate success. Both the apex and the nadir of this joint venture were signaled by Hess’s hardy, Armenian-gutted guffaw that boomed from his nearby hideout when he heard me respond to the incomprehensible, decibellissimo ragings of Valentina’s boyfriend (a boyfriend?!) with a nonplussed, “Dai, parliamo come gentiluomini.” (“Come on, like gentlemen we speaking will.”)

It was Hess who, during that magical summer sojourn, introduced me to the route of this walking tour. It doesn’t stray much from the beaten path, but it does add a tad of depth and delight to a path that deserves to be beaten. In the ensuing years I’ve prescribed it zealously to (read: imposed it tyrannically upon) every Rome-bound friend, to enthusiastic response. So now I share it with you, noting that while I’ll provide some commentary here and there, this is not so much intended to provide encyclopedic insights on the sites, as it is to help you navigate among them as efficiently as possible.

ORIENTATION

The basic route runs from the Pantheon to Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, which, at less than two kilometers in linea d’aria (as the crow flies), hardly seems worthy of being called a “tour,” but stick with me. Whether this itinerary of between 4.2 and 6.4 kilometers — depending on how you choose to cross over to Trastevere and excluding the tour of churches there as detailed below — lasts a few hours or all day is up to you, but timing is especially important, for two reasons: First, you want the indoor stops along the way, primarily churches, to be open. Second, you want to arrive in Trastevere at a time that will allow you to explore a bit and transition to dinner, which in Italy never ever begins with a “5” on the clock, and rarely with a “6.” So it’s a balance that requires you to check some opening times beforehand and manage your pace along the way.

PANTHEON AND GELATO (Map: Sant’Ignazio to Piazza Navona)

As the most prominent landmark in the vicinity, the Pantheon, whose eight-meter oculus opens to the sky as an enduring marvel of Classical architecture and early concrete construction techniques, is the intuitive starting point for our tour, and advance timed-entry reservations are advised. But as a warmup exercise for our generally-westward walk, do consider cheating a couple of blocks due east to Sant’Ignazio di Loyola on Via del Caravita, where you’ll take in the fantastic trompe l’oeil ceiling and “dome” (the Jesuits ran out of money to build a dome, so they had Andrea Pozzo paint them one), then zigzag your way a few blocks southwest to see what’s left of the ruins of the ancient baths (or “terme”) of Agrippa on Via dell’Arco della Ciambella.

From there, go north toward the Pantheon on Via dei Cestari, stopping at Piazza della Minerva to see the Basilica di Santa Maria sopra Minerva, especially its tranquil chiostro (cloister, accessed through the door to the far left of the main entrance, in the corner of the plaza) and Michelangelo’s Cristo della Minerva (known in English as The Risen Christ, standing left of the main altar). You’re preceded in your visit to this site of two papal conclaves by several notables through the centuries, including the mystic political activist St. Catherine of Siena and the Renaissance master Fra Angelico, both of whom are buried in the basilica. And here in 1633, Galileo Galilei was interrogated by the Inquisition’s tribunal and forced to renounce his “heretical” notion of the Earth’s revolution around the sun. On the plaza itself is the obelisk Diocletian brought back from Egypt and for which Gianlorenzo Bernini fashioned a base of an elephant, to represent strength and wisdom. For reasons on which historians don’t entirely agree, the giant of Baroque sculpture — who also designed St. Peter’s Square — pointed the pachyderm’s exposed and clenched backside toward the adjacent Dominican monastery, ensuring that the friars would enjoy that particular view from their windows in perpetuity.

Now back at the Pantheon — having perhaps sat on the thigh-high wall that separates its east perimeter from Via della Minerva, to enjoy a few tasty bites from Appetito Pizza at 80 Piazza della Rotonda — take a few steps northward and pause at the base of Ramses II’s obelisk that adorns the fountain in the middle of the Piazza della Rotonda, to do two things. First, directly north of the obelisk, find the yellow façade with a large marble plaque just below the balcony. See it? Leaving out some Sweeney Todd-esque details about sausage-making taverns whose clients, according to legend, would enter but sometimes not exit, it describes how Pope Pius VII closed down the “ignoble shops” that used to stand here. Second, make a somewhat more appetizing decision: As your salivary glands may already have alerted you, you’ve entered the gravitational field of two of Rome’s most famous gelaterias: Della Palma at 4 Via della Maddalena, and Giolitti at 40 Via degli Uffici del Vicari. The former will astonish you with its colossal selection, and the latter (founded in 1890 and long-time supplier to the Italian royal family) will charm you with its elegance. Despite my best efforts, I can’t claim to have tried every last Roman gelateria — yet — so I can’t state authoritatively which is “the best.” And there’s a credible argument that small-batch, artigianale (artisianal) purveyors found elsewhere offer a higher-quality product, usually recognizable by their more limited selection being held in closed, steel vats rather than arrayed vibrantly to entice. But don’t hesitate to treat yourself to a few palline (scoops) from one, or both, of these shops. If you must choose between the two, step into Della Palma for the spectacle, but please your palate at Giolitti.

Coni in hands, go west on Via delle Coppelle and note the intersection with Via della Scrofa because you’ll come back here momentarily. A few more paces to your right, on Campo Marzio, you’ll see Sant’Agostino, home to Caravaggio’s Madonna di Loreto (whose English title is Madonna of the Pilgrims, Loreto being an important pilgrimage site associated with Mary due to its possession of the claimed home in which she was born and received the Annunciation). Right of the basilica’s façade is the entrance to Biblioteca Angelica. Dating back to 1604, the lofty Angelica is Europe’s oldest library created specifically for public use and includes in its catalog a vast collection of Augustinian manuscripts. If you liked Agostino, retrace your steps to Via della Scrofa and head south, where immediately on your right you’ll see the façade of San Luigi dei Francesi. Here, in the church’s front left corner, the Contarelli Chapel displays a set of three Caravaggio masterpieces about St. Matthew, again allowing you to admire the artist’s signature chiaroscuro (light-dark) technique free of charge.

NAVONA AND GELATO (Map: Piazza Navona to Sant’Andrea della Valle)

Continue south past Piazza di Sant’Eustachio and — if you’ve managed to be here during its notoriously limited hours — step into Borromini’s Sant’Ivo Alla Sapienza, which has a gloriously stark-white Baroque interior that contrasts with the grit of ancient and modern Rome in a manner similar to that of the Vittorio Emanuele II monument, aka Altare della Patria (Altar of the Homeland). Once at Navona, built on the site of the ancient Stadio di Domiziano (Stadium of Domitian, the subterranean ruins of which can be visited via a museum entry on the piazza’s northern end), consider a gelato at Tre Scalini — famous more for location than product, yet still tasty. But also consider the cautionary tale of my father, whose Tre Scalini treat once mysteriously exploded as he, resting on the railing of Bernini’s Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi (Fountain of Four Rivers), leaned in for his first lick. Confused, he stared at the cup, looked left and right, examined the bunker-busted stracciatella (chocolate chip) once again, then turned his now-knowing countenance slowly skyward to see the sparrows swirling around the top of the obelisk. He shook his head in resigned dismay, shrugged, prodded the cup’s contents a bit with his wooden mini-spoon, flicked a few spittles toward the ground, and continued with his dessert.

Check out the kaleidoscopic cupola in Sant’Agnese in Agone, then exit Navona from the northwest on Via dei Lorenesi, continuing a couple dozen meters along Vicolo della Pace to Chiostro del Bramante, a cloister that some consider to be the pinnacle of Renaissance architecture in Rome. Return to Via di Santa Maria dell’Anima and head south until you come to the armless Pasquino, who occupies a perch of honor overlooking the piazza that bears his name. Pasquino was the first of Rome’s several “Talking Statues,” known locally as the arguti, or “witty ones,” around whose necks signs have hung in anonymous public protest through the ages. Each of the arguti has a special reputation, and Pasquino, presumably due to his proximity to the Vatican, gained fame for criticizing popes. One pontiff’s death was reportedly commemorated with a pasquinade praising the papal physician as “liberator of the nation, the senate, and the Roman people.” The arguti would sometimes “converse” with each other, and after Napoleonic France annexed Rome and the Papal States, one of the arguti “asked” Pasquino whether all French were thieves. His response: “Not all, but a good part” — a buona parte.

CAMPO DE’ FIORI AND PALAZZI (Map: Sant’Andrea della Valle to Palazzo Spada)

From Piazza San Pantaleo, cross the wide street (Corso Vittorio Emanuele III) and continue another block to Sant’Andrea della Valle, which boasts Rome’s second-largest dome, the view of which from below somehow gives one the impression that the building rises far above its own ceiling. The enormous interior features dramatic frescoes, among which Mario Cavaradossi is at work on an image of Mary Magdalene during the opening act of Puccini’s Tosca. A few paces to the southwest is Campo de’ Fiori, which you may have visited already, ideally in the morning when its market is in fullest splendor. Here, on old Rome’s largest piazza not graced by a church, the papacy burned heretics, including Renaissance philosopher and cosmologist Giordano Bruno, whose statue glowers, understandably, in the direction of the Vatican.

Hidden half a block to the northwest — watch for 19 Via del Pellegrino — is Arco degli Acetari, a tiny medieval courtyard that seems as if a village had been dropped into the middle of the capital. Grab a snack at Forno Campo de’Fiori and continue south to Palazzo Farnese, an exceptional example of High Renaissance design, and setting for yet another crucial scene in Tosca; today it’s on loan to the French as their embassy and is well worth a visit, albeit during limited hours. If possible, step into the courtyard of nearby Palazzo Spada to see “Il Perspettivo,” Borromini’s trompe l’oeil that makes a two-foot statue appear to be heroic size. Unless there’s been a recent layout change, you should be able to see it — at a bit of a distance but satisfactorily — through the double windows on either wall of its adjacent library, without having to enter the museum that for the last twenty-plus years seems to have existed for the sole purpose of making people go through the palace in order to see Borromini’s little gem.

ANCIENT (NON-FORUM) ROME, TRASTEVERE AND GELATO (Map: Palazzo Spada to Santa Maria in Trastevere)

At this point, your energy and watch will dictate whether you proceed directly across the Ponte Sisto footbridge, or make an elongated and recommended southeastern loop to see, in this order: the Tempio Maggiore di Roma (Rome’s largest synagogue), the view of Castello Caetani across Ponte Fabricio (the oldest bridge in town, ca. 62 B.C.E.), Teatro di Marcello (an open-air theater founded by Julius Caesar), San Nicola in Carcere (its basement whisks you back two millennia to street level and the footings of the temple on which the church was built), the circular Tempio di Ercole Vincitore (built in the 2nd century B.C.E., the oldest marble building still standing in Rome) and Santa Maria in Cosmedin, whose interior houses the world’s most romantic skull — that of St. Valentine — and whose portico houses the Bocca della Verità (an ancient curiosity of disputed origin that is best appreciated if, before your trip, you and your special someone pair a Verdicchio with some carbonara and watch Gregory Peck tease Audrey Hepburn here in Roman Holiday). From Cosmedin, cross Ponte Palatino past the last remaining arch of Ponte Emilia — locals call it Ponte Rotto, or “Broken Bridge,” which neither Michelangelo nor several popes could save from the Tiber’s swift current.

Whichever route you choose, once you cross the river, you are now in the neighborhood known as Trastevere, or “Across the Tiber,” and, depending on which bridge you crossed, will follow either a very short route (Via del Moro) or a slightly longer one (Via della Lungharetta) to the neighborhood’s heart, Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, upon which stands one of the first churches dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Trastevere fundamentals haven’t changed much since the 14th century — except that many locals have moved back tras the Tevere to Testaccio, preserving this neighborhood largely for tourists — and Piazza Santa Maria is an irrepressibly energetic evening hangout spot. Here are numerous options for a relaxing and, yes, romantic Italian dinner after you take a look at the opulent, Byzantine-rich interior of Basilica di Santa Maria in Trastevere, which usually remains open late into the evening and features Maderno’s haunting statue of Santa Cecilia, Cavallini’s extraordinary Last Judgment fresco, and the nave’s mismatched columns, which were recycled from the Caracalla Baths after Catholicism replaced paganism.

If you’ve arrived in Trastevere long before the proper ora di cena (suppertime), you’ll have no problem killing an hour or two treasure hunting along the neighborhood’s knotted lanes. Of course, churches aren’t all that Trastevere has to offer, but they are among its highlights, and several of the most noteworthy can be visited efficiently as follows, just after crossing Ponte Palatino and before continuing to Piazza Santa Maria: San Benedetto di Piscinula (featuring Rome’s tiniest belltower, as well as a mosaic floor from the 12th century and a chapel built on the traditional site of St. Benedict’s home), Santa Maria in Cappella (its interior is the visual legacy of Francesca Romana, who, in the 14th century, dedicated herself to caring for the sick and invalid whom the hospitals couldn’t or wouldn’t help), Santa Cecilia in Trastevere (the tranquil courtyard, or “cortile,” offers a low-key alternative to the broader neighborhood’s lively vibe), Santa Maria dell’Orto (dell’Orto meaning “of the vegetable garden,” to memorialize the miraculous healing of a farmer on the site), San Francesco a Ripa (echoing his earlier Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, Bernini’s Ecstasy of Blessed Ludovica Albertoni shows a woman in the thrall of physical suffering and spiritual bliss, a complex emotional state best appreciated by observing how the light affects her expression as you walk slowly from side to side), Chiesa dei Santi Quaranta Martiri e San Pasquale Baylon (aka La Chiesa delle Zitelle — Church of the Spinsters — where romane who are lonely or in unhappy or abusive relationships have sought consolation and hope through the centuries, as legend tells how some confessed to its namesake, Baylon, that their husbands were inattentive, for which he prescribed a mixture of egg yolks, sugar and wine for renewed male vigor, a concoction known today as that aphrodisiacal ancestor of eggnog, zabaglione), and Basilica di San Crisogono (the fascinating remains of a 5th-century church are in the crypt, accessed left of the nave).

Those locals who do remain in Trastevere have their go-to spots for peace and quiet, although they don’t mind if a few of us join them from time to time at some of their favorites on the slopes of the Janiculum Hill. The Orto Botanico di Roma (Botanical Garden) offers a welcome retreat from Trastevere’s restaurant-lined lanes and late-night crowds. A short walk uphill brings you to this serene garden of winding paths, palms, bamboo groves and plants gathered from across the world, while dense vegetation opens in rejuvenating intervals onto terraces overlooking the city. Farther up, atop the Janiculum, is this area’s most popular viewpoint: the Gianicolo Belvedere on Piazza Garibaldi. Locals do not go here — and if they’re at Garibaldi, they get their views from the loggia of adjacent Villa Lante. You’re more likely to find them along the balustrade across the street from the Fontanone di Paola, just uphill from Chiesa di San Pietro in Montorio. (Incidentally, San Pietro houses some remarkable art, including a masterful bas relief panel of St. Francis by Baratta, pupil of Bernini. And the cloister just north of the church, abutting the Real Academia de España, hosts a splendid Bramante monument erected on what for centuries was believed to be the site of St. Peter’s crucifixion.) If you want a comparable viewpoint that you’ll likely have all to yourself, descend the stairs past the iron gates at the north end of Piazza San Pietro. At the first landing, where the walkway doubles back to your right, a ceramic tile of a cat affixed to the waist-high wall marks the place of your private panorama.

Wherever your Trastevere explorations take you, be sure to stop at Fonte della Salute, just off of Piazza Mastai, for my daughter’s favorite gelato flavor, pear ricotta. As for dining recommendations, I enjoyed La Tana de Noantri on Piazza San Egidio, a short distance northwest of Piazza Santa Maria. While its reviews were never as strong as those of its neighbors (in fact, it didn’t survive the pandemic), during my visit so many, many summers ago, I found its food superb and its location perfect for people-watching from a streetside table. But then again, I may have been distracted — nay, beguiled — by my companion for the evening, Valentina the violinist.

QUESTIONS FOR READERS

• Could you recommend a favorite walking tour in another Roman neighborhood?
• What’s your nomination for the best gelato in Rome?
• Any tales to tell from Monte Testaccio or another hot spot on the Roman club circuit, without irritating your significant other?
• In addition to Roman Holiday and La Dolce Vita (or at least the iconic Trevi scene), what movies will help set the right tone for someone’s first visit to Rome?