Rome - Famous tourist destinations can be hellish: Versailles or the Uffizi gallery in summer are worse than rush hour on the London Underground. But the greatest cities offer so much that it is possible to sidestep the crowds.
My wife, Penny, and I have just spent an idyllic weekend in Rome amid perfect weather, gazing almost alone upon fabulous treasures in the city’s museums, while mobs of Japanese and Americans rioted around the Trevi fountain.
We started by wandering through the Borghese gardens beyond the city wall to the 17th-century villa and collection created by Cardinal Scipione. Villa Borghese’s mosaics and statuary are almost as much of a feast for the eye as the views from the windows over its parterres and fountains.
The guidebook laments Napoleon’s looting of the family treasures, but a vast amount survives, from the classical period through the Renaissance to Bernini’s 17th-century masterpieces.
That night we dined at Aroma, a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Colosseum, where we would have paid the bill without complaining just for the privilege of watching the sun set behind the Victor Emmanuel Monument.
This early 20th-century monstrosity is known to scornful Romans as “the typewriter”, but in the evening light its bronze charioteers looked glorious.
Next morning we enjoyed another highlight: the Palazzo Doria Pamphilj in the Via del Corso. This houses an aristocratic family collection dating from the creation of the palace in the 16th and early 17th century.
The power in Rome was overwhelmingly in the hands of the Church. Camillo Pamphili was a cardinal when he renounced his office in 1647 to marry Olimpia Aldobrandini, much to the fury of his uncle, Pope Innocent X.
One of the jewels of the palazzo’s collection is Velazquez’s portrait, depicting the pope in all the ruthlessness of power. When Innocent saw the painting, he is said to have recoiled in dismay, saying: ‘It is too real.’
The palace’s audio commentary is delivered with wit, warmth and insight in an impeccable English accent by current prince, Jonathan Doria Pamphilj, who was born and educated in the UK.
In the palazzo’s state apartments we were almost alone, before emerging into thronging streets.
We had a jolly pizza lunch at a little rooftop place, Palazzetto, above the top of the Spanish Steps. Then, after an afternoon zizz, we took a ritual hike through St Peter’s Square.
Years ago, I had a privileged private tour of the Sistine Chapel, which was terrific, but on this Friday afternoon I suggested to Penny that nothing inside was worth the two-hour queue. Instead, we walked onwards and upwards away from the city centre, until there was a break between trees and houses, revealing a peerless view of Rome.
We descended to the Tiber, marvelling at the manner in which each street revealed some treasure. And while Italy as a nation is a shambles, we found its people were delightful.
Romans tear hair at the state of their bankrupt city, especially the scenes of squalor around the Termini station.
But close by stands another marvellous museum, the Palazzo Massimo. Among its archaeological wonders is a collection of mosaics, murals and wall coverings excavated from the ancient city. Once again, we gazed almost alone upon the rooms of a villa decorated almost two millennia ago.
I wish we could have seen the newly opened papal gardens in the Alban Hills, but they get booked up months in advance. Our final sortie on Sunday morning, to another city museum, the Palazzo Altemps, offered two highlights.
The first was an exhibition of ancient fragments, thousands of them, collected in the first 30 years of the 20th century by operatic tenor Evan Gorga. Here were Roman toys, glassware, mosaic and much else, displayed in a fascinating jumble.
The second was that we strolled through the Palazzo’s rooms accompanied by glorious singing echoing from the chapel, where morning service was taking place.
Advance planning, which Penny did for us, was the secret. It seldom works simply to turn up in a vast city and wander the streets.
Our elegant hotel, the Regina on the Via Veneto, was perfectly situated. Everywhere we went, even the museums, staff were smiley and welcoming, and what a difference that makes.
Of the modest restaurants at which we ate, I especially recommend La Pentolaccia, a few streets from the Via Veneto, and Gigetto in the old Jewish quarter.
Nowhere except Aroma was the bill much above £50 (about R900) for two. - Daily Mail