Our final morning in Italy started differently — not with a monument or museum, but with a bike ride through the Roman countryside. The route followed the Appian Way (Via Appia Antica), one of the oldest and most important roads of the Roman Empire. Uneven stones and scattered ruins reminded us that this was once a major military and trade route — the highway that connected Rome to the farthest reaches of its empire.

It wasn’t exactly “bike-friendly” by modern standards, but that was part of the charm. We passed ancient aqueducts, catacombs, and crumbling villas, surrounded by quiet farmland. It was easy to imagine Roman legions once marching here — and later, during World War II, Allied forces using the same routes as they advanced toward the capital. American engineers helped rebuild sections of these ancient roads after the 1944 liberation of Rome, a small but lasting link between two very different eras of history.

After returning the bikes, we stopped for lunch at a small café — pasta, bread, and cold water, simple but perfect. In the afternoon, we packed up and made our way to the airport train, watching the city roll by one last time. The domes, ruins, and narrow streets of Rome had become familiar, almost comfortable.

As the train sped toward Fiumicino Airport, we talked about everything we’d seen over the past ten days — from glassblowers in Venice to Michelangelo’s David, from Pompeii’s ruins to the Colosseum under moonlight. Italy had given us more than history and scenery; it gave us stories that connected the ancient world to our own — and even moments of American history woven in between.

It was our first trip to Italy, but it felt like the kind that stays with you — a journey through art, resilience, and the threads that tie the past to the present. 🇮🇹