To resume the chronicles of my six-week backpacking trip through Europe this summer… After a week in the South of France, I headed to Rome for four and a half days.

It was my first time in Italy, and it was magnificent! Every piazza was gorgeous with opulent sculptures and fountains, and every street beautiful with rich colors and cobblestones. The atmosphere was lively yet laidback.

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Two versions of an aperitivo, both recommended

Sun drenched the streets like honey, turning the buildings rosy and golden. The skies burned electric blue and cloudless, and it was so hot that if it weren’t for the drinking fountains on every other street I surely would have died of thirst.

Although I traveled to Rome alone, I made friends easily at my hostel. Even though most tourists were gone there were still a number of us traveling that summer as quiet visitors to a city that hadn’t been so quiet in years and years.

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One evening we watched the sunset at the Terrazza del Pincio with cheap wine in plastic cups, toasting as the sky turned coral over Piazza del Popolo and its Egyptian obelisk. Later, we bought Neapolitan-style pizza and ate it at midnight in front of marble gods at the Trevi Fountain. We talked often about how crazy it was to be in Rome without crowds, to only hear Italian (and a bit of French) around us— I wondered if the Romans were happy to get the city back to themselves, even if the underlying reason for the situation was painful.

I went to the Colosseum with one of my new friends, a girl from Mexico studying in the Netherlands. I booked a ticket only a few days in advance without a problem, when normally it’s advisable to book several months out. There were only a few other people in the amphitheater besides us, which felt super surreal.

The Roman Forum was also empty. As we wandered the ruins together she told me about her grandpa who traveled to Europe after World War II and loved it. But when he returned a few years ago he hated it because everything was so busy and touristy and different.

“This is like as close as we will get to that first experience,” she said. I agreed, looking around this empty space which is normally flooded with people. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to see Italy without tourists.”

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I felt so incredibly lucky to have the chance to not only go to Rome in the first place but also to see it without crowds in the height of summer. I did not queue for the Pantheon or St. Peter’s Basilica or the Sistine Chapel; I had the chance to breathe and marvel in these old spaces without the bodies of others pressing in.

It was sad though, too. I saw a lot of closed business. I looked away from waiters trying to usher me into customer-less restaurants. The tacky souvenir shops seemed particularly out of place without anyone going into them.

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I sat in the cemetery at Piramide, in front of Keats’ grave, without a soul in sight. I found a bench easily in a park in Anita Hill, and at the Testaccio Market no one even seemed to mind that I wasn’t a local as I ordered my cappuccino and pastry (for a grand total of 2 euros and 40 cents— Italy is so much cheaper than France!).

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An empty Pantheon

Sometimes I felt guilty, though, to be traveling during the pandemic. Guilty that I was buying postcards while other people were struggling to pay rent. That I was sightseeing while others were sick from the coronavirus. I know that I have an enormous amount of privilege.

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But all I can say is that with all the safety precautions of sanitizer and capacity limits and masks, I never felt like I was posing more of a risk to spread the virus than if I had stayed at Lyon, where people crowded into the metro and went to soirées and bars. And at least I was supporting the battered tourist economy. So while it felt strange that I was profiting from the lack of tourists, I can’t say it felt wrong. Besides, wouldn’t it be a shame to stay inside the apartment for 6 weeks when I could see the Pantheon?

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Pandemic aside, I am so happy I went to Rome. It’s one of those cities that is so big and famous and talked about that I didn’t have big expectations going in— how could it live up to the hype? But in fact, I absolutely loved it. There was so much to do, so much to eat, so much to enjoy.

It was gorgeous and grand and ancient, and even without crowds it still radiated a sense of endearing chaos in its winding back streets and old quarters. If I had gone at a different time I’m not sure I would be as smitten. But as far as this first time, Rome more than lived up to its mythic reputation.