Boondock Puffins

We started obscenely early. Leaving our bike where it was, we hopped onto the bus into the city, and arrived while Rome was still asleep. We were deposited at Campo Marzio just as the city began to glow. By 6am the light had turned honeyed, brushing the buildings with gold as Rome itself stretched awake and showed off.

We took a circuitous route via the Column of Marcus Aurelius, and then into Piazza della Rotonda, which at that hour felt almost reverent. The Pantheon loomed quietly, entirely unbothered by our presence. I once learned (via Top Gear or The Grand Tour, which I now realise has functioned as an unconventional but persistent educational tool) that filming here costs an eye-watering amount of money. This turns out to be broadly true: Rome charges hefty location fees, particularly for iconic, cramped, high-traffic sites like this one, where filming means permits, insurance, police supervision, and compensation for the inconvenience of closing one of the most visited squares on earth. In short, the Pantheon doesn’t do cameos cheaply.

We wandered on through Pigna, ticked off the Trevi Fountain (already busy, already theatrical), and then confronted the vast, slightly aggressive monument at Monti – the Vittoriano – looking as though it might march off under its own steam at any moment. From there we cut through the Forum, where history lies about in pieces, strolled past the Colosseum doing its eternal job of being magnificent, and ended up at the Circus Maximus, which always feels like it should be more exciting than it is, given its résumé.

At this point, civilisation demanded coffee. Revived and marginally more human, we headed towards Borgo and on to the Vatican, before finally retreating to the hotel to pack and prepare for departure. It felt like the sort of morning that should have ended with a long lunch and a glass of something cold. Instead, we got back on the bike.

Italy, it turned out, is longer than expected.

We drove south through Pontinia and Sperlonga, skirting the Parco Naturale Promontorio Villa di Tiberio, then on through Cavaino, Régi Lagni, and Acerra in what became a marathon of heat, traffic, and road that never quite seemed to go where we hoped. By the time we stopped at a supermarket on the outskirts of Naples, nerves were frayed. Tom had to abandon me in the car park to guard our bike, largely because parking there operates on sonar rather than sight.

Eventually – some might say heroically – we reached Ercolano (Herculaneum) and found somewhere to stay. Dinner consisted of takeaway pizza eaten with the gratitude of people who have survived something. The traffic may have been appalling, but the pizza was flawless, which felt like a fair exchange.

Plans for tomorrow were sketched out between slices. An educational visit to the archaeological site is non-negotiable, but beyond that we’re undecided. The heat is oppressive, and the coast appears to be divided neatly into glossy resorts and places so exclusive they require both money and cheekbones we don’t possess. Perhaps east is the answer. But that decision can wait until after the morning’s ruins, and possibly another coffee.