New Years Eve in Rome

Today, the Eternal City becomes the Eternal Party. Tourists flock to the big sights like modern-day gladiators armed with selfie sticks, shopping bags and plastic champagne flutes. The locals, presumably having witnessed this annual invasion before, know better.

It feels good to be back in Rome. The streets are noisy, crowded and magnificently chaotic. Christmas markets are still hanging on, the December sun is out, and although there’s a chill in the air, the city is very much alive. Rome, after all, has survived emperors, barbarians, fascists and several thousand years of questionable urban planning. A little cold weather isn’t going to bother it.

Beautiful morning on the last day of the year.

I usually prefer the summer version of the city, with green trees along the Tiber, warm evenings and wobbly tables squeezed into narrow alleys where you’re never entirely sure whether you’re sitting in a restaurant or blocking somebody’s front door.

But winter has its advantages. The air is crisp, walking is considerably less sweaty, and Rome somehow looks different beneath a pale December sky. The same beautiful mess, just wearing a different jacket.

Sunset over the Vatican yesterday.

As always, the best parts begin where the sightseeing checklist ends. Get away from the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain and the armies marching dutifully behind raised umbrellas, and Rome starts revealing itself.

Trastevere has become noticeably more polished since my last visit. There are more fashionable restaurants, more carefully distressed interiors and probably someone nearby serving an artisanal cocktail in a badly washed jam jar. But the neighborhood hasn’t surrendered completely. Sometimes associated with Roma Sparita (the “lost Rome”) this is still a wonderful place to wander without purpose. Narrow alleys twist between old buildings, laundry hangs overhead, scooters appear from nowhere with homicidal confidence, and somehow I always seem to end up back at Piazza di Santa Maria. There are worse places to be lost.

Lazy afternoon in Trastavere.

And really, New Year’s Eve in Rome doesn’t require much of a plan. Walk until you’re hungry. Find a small restaurant. Order cacio e pepe. Order too much cacio e pepe. Have a glass of Prosecco. Perhaps another. Rome has been here for nearly three thousand years. Tomorrow can wait.

Moving on to new adventures.

To all my friends scattered across this strange little planet: Happy New Year, wherever you are. Here’s to new adventures.