I have never liked being a tourist. When I was a kid (and even now), My stubbornness drove my mom crazy. I always fussed when she wanted a picture of me because it drew attention to us. Today, I'm a little more forgiving, but not very much. This makes me the perfect travel companion for myself.

At least, that's what I discovered on my first solo trip to Rome. Aside from the lonely dinners (which are quite reminiscent of every meal in De Neve freshman year, except with real food), I enjoyed traveling by myself. One of the traits I've inherited from my dad is the ability (and desire) to wander aimlessly for hours on end. When I lived in Rome ten years ago, I was less than thrilled to participate in such wandering, but somehow I put up with it.

Things have changed since then: now, I drink coffee, I speak Italian, and I study art. With that in mind, I tried to combine childhood nostalgia and adult curiosity as I explored Rome…

Day One: I pulled into Roma Tiburtina around noon, just in time for lunch. I stopped at a place right outside the station where I had been with my parents as a kid (and briefly in November on my way to Egypt). I was hoping to eat spicy eggplant pizza, but they didn't have any, even though I asked. My dad apparently dreams about this pizza, so it was a bit disappointing that there was none. After lunch, I checked in at my hostel and left without a jacket. I was being too optimistic: although the sun was shining, it was still cold. For a moment I had thought I was in California! I toured the neighborhood of San Giovanni, but quickly gave in to the weather. After returning to get my coat, I wandered. I found my way to the Colosseum, then Piazza Venezia, then Torre Argentina. I never worked up the courage to return to the cat sanctuary where I had volunteered, but I was happy to have another slice of pizza at the place across the street. I have never before experienced such a powerful taste-memory. I bit into that piece of prosciutto pizza, and I was ten years old. I decided to continue my trip down memory lane with a visit to my old street behind the Campo de' Fiori. After reminiscing about dinners on the rooftop terrace, I wandered around some more. I stumbled upon the Chiostro del Bramante, where there was an exhibit on the Flemish painter Brueghel. Which one you ask? Great question, since there was actually an entire family of painters with the name of Brueghel. The most well known of course was Pieter Bruegel the Elder (without an "h"), but there were paintings by Pieter Brueghel the Younger, Jan Brueghel the Elder, and Jan Brueghel the Younger too, as well as some I didn't know. The Northern Renaissance painters were known for their precise attention to detail (think of Jan Van Eyck) and in later years, representations of daily life (Rembrandt). After the exhibit, I made my way to St. Peter's, where there were very few people considering the election of the new pope the day before. I decided to take advantage of the small crowd by going into the church minutes before closing time. Pretty damn impressive, I must say. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to rub St. Peter's feet for luck, since there was a guard shooing everyone out of the church. However, I spent plenty of time admiring the beauty of Michelangelo and Bernini (we'll get to him later). Afterwards, I headed to dinner at Filetti di Baccala for fried fish and puntarelle with anchovies. I chatted with a couple of accountants from London (originally from Singapore and Hong Kong), who had eaten at the restaurant six years ago (I told them it was ten for me!).

Day Two: I started day two at the Galleria Borghese, which gave me mixed feelings. When compared to the Uffizi, the art collection is niente di che, although the Galleria does house some pretty important stuff. I had just studied Canova's sculpture of Paolina, sister of Napoleon, as Venus, so seeing it in person was great. Of course, the real treasures of the museum belong to Bernini: David, Apollo and Daphne, etc. The best part, though, was neither the artwork or the architecture; rather, it was the museum's strict no-photo policy. With no iPhone background or Facebook cover photos to worry about, visitors really have to look at what they are seeing, rather than simply snapping a picture. I left the museum feeling a bit underwhelmed. Strolling through the Villa Borghese gardens reminded me of Golden Gate Park. Fortunately, my bittersweet nostalgia didn't last long, since soon after I explored the Etruscan museum at the Villa Giulia. Not much to report from there, since pretty much everything else I had studied was either in Bologna, Florence, or in situ. I walked down towards Piazza del Popolo, where I had my second flashback. Nothing specific, just an overwhelming recognition of where I was. I saw the church, Santa Maria del Popolo, which is home to Caravaggio's Crucifixion of St. Peter and Conversion of St. Paul. I know I managed to see all of the churches I had studied in Art History 57, but I don't remember which days. These include Il Gesù, S Luigi dei Francesi (more Caravaggio), and Santa Maria Della Vittoria (ya boy Bernini). Dinner the second night was at Enoteca Cavour, where I had cannelloni with ricotta and cime di rape.

Day Three: Again, underwhelming museums. Saturday morning, before my visit to the Vatican museums, I stopped by Checco er Caretterie, the bar in Trastevere where my parents and I often had coffee and pastries. I'm trying not to think about how awful life will be without a cappuccino to start my day. The Sistine Chapel was still closed from the papal conclave, but I did wonder in admiration at Raffael's frescos. After the museum, I went back to Trastevere for pizza at La Renella, another childhood spot. I wandered through the area and up into the hills. Quite accidentally, I stumbled upon the church of S. Pietro in Montorio. Another gem from art history class, Bramante's tempietto, was waiting for me in the courtyard.

Day Four: Since my day is never complete without art, I went to an exhibit onTitian at the Scuderie Quirinale. If I ever need someone to paint my portrait, I will definitely have my people call his people…he really captures beauty in an effortless way. After the museum, I wandered back over to Piazza Venezia, where I watched the last stragglers of the Rome Marathon make their triumphant finish. Happening simultaneously was a Folk Dance festival, so I stood out in the cold for 3 hours watching Irish, Greek, Cuban, Colombian, and Venezuelan performances. The police caused a bit of a commotion when they cancelled the end of the show. Since it was March 17, there was a ceremony to commemorate Italian unification. I waited behind a barrier as the Italian military, dressed in their finest uniforms, fell into position. The marching band welcomed the president with the national anthem, and after he laid a wreath on the statue of Vittorio Emanuele, a burst of green, white, and red erupted from planes overhead. It was certainly a special day to be in Rome.

I finished my trip to the capital with a large portion of bucatini all'amatriciana, a fitting reward for my first solo voyage.