After losing my job, I needed to avoid misery. This city delivered

Opinion

In this series, My Happy Place, our writers reflect on the holiday destinations in Australia and around the world that they cherish the most.

June 18, 2026 — 5:00am

When a bad-fit job imploded, I was looking to feel anything but misery. Despite being well travelled, I’d never been to Italy. Rome’s promise of la dolce vita appealed to someone badly in need of a little sweetness.

I used my severance pay to book a flight and a tiny room in a little hotel near the Spanish Steps.

And the very first morning I awoke there, the calling made sense.

In the early morning, Rome’s streets are devoid of tourists. iStock Thanks to jet lag, I began wandering the city as it awakened, just me and the garbage collectors and street sweepers, then bar owners putting seats outside, newspaper vendors rolling up shutters and police taking up position near government buildings. The sun peeked over the seven hills the city is set on and drenched it in a distinctive golden light.

Rome’s outrageous beauty beamed in response. Structures built thousands of years ago stood next to Renaissance confections. Umbrella pines, laurels, olive trees and oaks greened the city lavishly.

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As the days went on, I saw how life unfolded around all that. From morning coffee through to evening vino, the well-dressed locals moved through the city with an indifference to its grandeur, as if it was no big deal to live in a place so special. Yet when asked about their home, they beamed with pride.

Bernini’s Elephant and Obelisk reminded me of strength. iStock I also loved that Rome rewarded curiosity. A wrong turn could lead to a hidden courtyard, an ancient ruin, a fountain or a church that could paralyse me with its beauty and atmosphere – yet be completely off any sort of tourism radar.

And in all this, the Italian capital proved to be the remedy I was seeking; I found bliss at virtually every turn.

Soon, favourite places and things became my companions, confidants and life coaches. The Pantheon whispered of resilience. Bernini’s Elephant and Obelisk reminded me of strength.

In the church of Santa Maria del Popolo on Piazza del Popolo, I encountered a painting by Caravaggio, The Conversion of St Paul . It deeply affected me, the confronting realism showing spiritual surrender on the dirt floor of life, not in the pretty, lofty place festooned with garlands and angels of so much Renaissance art.

In the following decade or so, I returned to Rome several times. After setting my bags down in my hotel room, the first thing I did on each visit was go to see that work by Caravaggio. It was like saying hello to a friend.

I’d check in on the Pantheon, the obelisk and various other favourite Roman landmarks, discovering new ones along the way.

And then I’d return home, my cup refilled.

I visited in the summer of 2019, little knowing it would perhaps be my last time.

Only months later the pandemic happened and then, when the world opened up again, overtourism became an undeniable issue .

The author in Rome. Julietta Jameson I worried about Rome – and about my right to go there. I try to live from an ethos of not being, or at least not contributing to, problems where I can. Visiting the city while it groaned under mass visitation did not sit well with me. Perhaps Rome and I were done.

This made me sad, but I figured feeling uncomfortable in a place that meant so much to me would make me even sadder.

Then, in the northern summer of 2026, I found myself passing through Rome on the way somewhere else.

With less than 24 hours there, I checked into a small hotel in Rione Ludovisi. My usual Rome routine wouldn’t work this time. My “friends” were all a fair walk away.

However, I had something practical to buy, which meant venturing into the heart of the Centro Storico – the very belly of the overtourism beast I’d been avoiding.

I stepped out into unfamiliar streets that quickly flowed into the familiar.

I found my rhythm – the way of walking Rome demands, with cobblestones, unpredictable traffic and endless restoration works.

I felt the warmth of a late May evening and basked in that incredible golden light. I dodged map-starers and smartphone bearers as I made my way from memory to where I needed to go.

The crowds were there, of course. But beneath them I could still feel the Rome I loved: ancient, self-assured and utterly indifferent to the anxieties of one returning visitor.

And suddenly, I felt the happiness Rome has always given me. I didn’t need to see the Pantheon, Bernini’s obelisk or the Caravaggio to feel it. The city itself was enough.

You don’t need to see the sights in Rome. Sometimes the city itself is enough. iStock The next morning, I realised one of my favourite places was only a 20-minute walk away.

After a cornetto crema and cappuccino breakfast taken standing at the bar on the corner of my hotel’s street, I headed to the Ba…