For tourists, Rome appears to be a dangerous pickpocketing place, with narrow streets that cars are constantly creeping up behind in your peripheral view, and it’s fighting to get a good spot at the Colosseum for a photo. Like other tourists who have come before me, I was worried about my things being pickpocketed or that I’d lose my passport. However, I didn’t realize that after a week of being here that I was in more danger of Rome taking my money with my full permission. From paying to see local art museums, buying a new leather purse, to the daily meals I can’t eat enough of—I have emptied my…

I’m standing on the Ponte Sisto bridge. I close my eyes and inhale a puff of cigarette smoke from someone passing by, with a hint of spaghetti Amatrice wafting from a restaurant across the way. My eyes stay shut. The dichotomy of flavourful spiced tomato pasta with man-made waste continues to be the cocktail of Rome’s aged city. The brisk night air is refreshing. Ahead of me, I then stare at St. Peter’s Basilica, with its prominent dome lit up and the moonlight shimmer off the serene Tiber River. I snap a photo. My camera will never quite capture the comforting sounds of being surrounded by beatboxers impressing crowds under…

Each time I looked into a church on my Rome trip, I attempted to create an emotional connection or other lasting impression of the visit, but my efforts rarely bore any fruit. As an Atheist the churches I saw were only places of acknowledging respect and observing the occasional Caravaggio art in the alcoves. My endeavours to find meaning in the churches I walked into finally came when I visited St. Peter’s Basilica and Basilica di Santa Sabina all’Aventino. These two churches are an unlikely pairing to imagine that they would both equally make an impact on me given their extremely different styles. However, as I stepped into the interior…

Today began as a warm morning with the heat creating droplets of sweat on our heads as we made our way to the British War Memorial in Rome. I was trying to ignore the mosquito bites that were forming large red irritating bumps along my legs. My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden halt of our group staring at the padded gate and pebbled path ahead of us. This place looked inviting, unlike the cold graveyard I went to when it was Halloween and I played hide-and-seek as a ten-year-old. The memorial had short freshly cut light green grass and neat rows of headstones, with the sunlight casting a diagonal…

As I stepped outside of the Rome–Fiumicino International Airport, I was immediately confronted by the summer heat. I was warned about the uncomfortable muggy climate, but I underestimated my abilities to withstand it. The warm temperatures were the least of my worries as I still needed to reach where I would be meeting my school group. I pulled out my phone with the saved directions I was given. It told me that I needed to catch a bus that would take me to town, but I couldn’t find the correct bus stop or number that I needed to catch. I spent nearly half and hour looking for it because I…