12 years in Rome: Anniversary calls for another list of reasons why I love this city

When the honeymoon ends, how do you keep a romance hot?

In a relationship, it’s difficult. In Rome, it’s easy. I’ve been doing it for 12 years and I love it almost as much as I did when I arrived. Sunday marked my 12-year anniversary of my arrival in Rome. As always, Marina and I dined with friends at La Taverna di Fori Imperiali, one of our favorite trattorias in the city and not just because it’s where I ate the night I arrived on Jan. 11, 2014.

Twelve years later, yeah, parts of Rome rub me the wrong way. I curse the incompetent postal service every time I walk in to pay bills. I roll my eyes every time a bus doesn’t show as scheduled. But every city has flaws and few have as many pluses as Rome.

As I do every year around Jan. 11, I am listing all the reasons I love Rome. It always reminds me of why I chose to retire here all those years ago and reaffirms my love for this city that has romanced man for nearly 3,000 years.

And after 12 years, I still get choked up writing it. So, as always, here are 50 reasons why I love Rome. They’re all new and for sure I’ll have 50 more next year. And the year after that. And the year after …

Why I love Rome

I love seeing Rome’s well-dressed middle class standing outside Il Goccetto, my favorite wine bar, swirling their designer wine in their designer suits, looking so happy on a warm evening on beautiful Via dei Banchi Vecchi.

I love how the coffee left over from my cappuccino is always enough for the perfect-sized espresso that follows.

I love sipping my cappuccino in my AS Roma bathrobe on my fifth-floor balcony before Rome wakes up and chatting with the pigeons that stare at me from my rail.

I love my cappuccino.

I love having an ice-cold bottle of €2 Peroni at my corner Romagnani Caffe on a hot day, with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

I love all the delicious, strong and ever-changing Italian craft beers written on a blackboard at Stappo, my local birrificio, while watching Champions League matches on its big screen.

Giuseppe at Il Goccetto.

I love the list of affordable wines from all over Italy written by hand on Il Goccetto’s chalkboard.

I love Rome cab drivers who are Lazio fans and don’t take it personally that I’m a Roma fan.

I love Rome cab drivers who are Roma fans and when I leave the cab saying, “Lazio MERDA! (Lazio shit!)” they respond with “Sempre! (Always!)”

I love the view of the Tiber River on a sunny day from inside Castel Sant’Angelo.

I love how Marina crosses herself every time we enter a Catholic church.

I love a year’s Metro public transport pass for €250 which has not risen one centesimo since I arrived.

I love bufala mozzarella, fresh up from a farm in Campania, and take that first bite of that milky, juicy, white ball of joy. So sweet. So delicious. So good.

I love chocolate frappe at Lent, torturing those poor Catholic fools in Rome who give up chocolate.

I love how the summer sunset bathes the historic churches and ancient monuments in gold light.

I love how Romans don’t lick the spoon after stirring their espresso and instead rub the rim of the cup to ease the hot coffee on their lips.

I love the tonnarelli con gamberi i pistacchio (long pasta with shrimp in a pistachio sauce) at Bruno ai Quattro Venti, our favorite restaurant in my Monteverde neighborhood.

I love how Corriere dello Sport, despite print journalism circling the drain, still has more than 50 pages of soccer every day.

I love walking into a trattoria in the Prati neighborhood near St. Peter’s and seeing Vatican priests with beers.

I love the taste of cherries, plums and berries in Cesanese, my favorite Lazio wine that goes with everything.

I love the smell of curry in the early evening on the ground floor of my apartment building, totally inhabited by Bangladeshis who really know how to cook. 

I love walking across Ponte Umberto I at night when the Tiber River looks like the Seine in spring.

I love Rome-London round trip for €75.

I love having a caffe and cannoli at Pasticceria Dagnino, an elegant Sicilian cafe covered in art that has graced Galleria Esedra near Piazza Repubblica since 1955.

I love having lunch outside in January.

I love Marina’s pollo limone, lightly browned chicken soaked in lemon sauce and served with kalamata olives.

I love the panoramic view of Rome from Gianicolo Hill where 2,000 years of history is laid out before my eyes.

I love the panoramic view of Rome from Gianicolo Hill with a bottle of wine.

I love walking through Piazza Navona at dawn after a night of rain, when the ground is covered in mist and the only sounds are birds singing above Chiesa di Sant’Agnese in Agone.

I love my table at La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali next to the wall with all the celebrity diners, from Al Pacino to Woody Allen.

I love the Roman chicken cacciatore at La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali.

I love walking under the majestic, tall, elegant Mediterranean pine trees on my strolls along Appia Antica, the road the Roman army used on its march to the sea.

I love Trapizzino, the sandwich shop in my old Testaccio neighborhood where they stuff soft, homemade focaccia buns with a messy pile of polpette (meatballs in tomato sauce) or pollo alla cacciatore (stewed chicken). 

I love looking at Marina’s portrait photography and how she makes everyone so much more beautiful than they already are.

I love having lunch at an outdoor table in Ostia Antica’s Piazza della Rocca, one of the cutest piazzas in Italy and the setting for Episode 4 of Emily in Paris Season 5.

I love walking down Via Giulia, one of Rome’s prettiest streets, and going under Michaelangelo’s beautiful, ivy-covered Arco Farnese on my way to Il Goccetto.

I love driving by the Colosseum at night, seeing the windows all back lit and thinking of all the blood shed in that arena 2,000 years ago. For some reason, I find some romance in that.

I love no lines at Poste Vaticane.

I love knowing Poste Vaticane gives me a reasonable shot at successfully mailing something which Poste Italiane is incapable of doing.

I love Stephan El Shaarawy coming off Roma’s bench and always making something happen.

I love saying Stephan El Shaarawy’s name although I must look it up every time I write it.

I love walking into Chiesa San Luigi dei Francesi and seeing Caravaggio’s masterpiece, “The Martyrdom of St. Matthew,” knowing I have a copy framed on my bedroom wall.

I love the ungherese, the ring of fried dough covered in white frosting at Forno di Campo de’ Fiori.

I love how Rome is one city where I can never overdress.

I love walking into Piazza San Pietro after midnight, when the tourists are gone and the priests are asleep, and seeing St. Peter’s back lit in all its glory and hearing only the gurgle of Bernini’s fountains anchoring the piazza.

I love the revolving photo exhibits at MAXXI, Rome’s modern art museum, from the Mafia wars of the 1980s to evidence of global warming around the world.

I love the cappuccino at Tazza d’Oro, so good that I can order one after noon – a major social faux pas in Italy – and won’t get thrown out like a drunk in an Old West saloon.

I love Marina’s taste in clothes and how la bella figura means more than just staying in shape.

I love having a woman like Marina with whom I can share this romantic city.

I love my life in Rome and not afraid to die in it.