re: Your Greatest Travel Moment

I was solo in Rome two summers ago while taking a break from traveling with a larger group. I had dinner the first night I was there at this little trattoria a friend had recommended near the Trevi fountain. I was the only tourist in the place, the 2 little Italian grandmothers that ran it gave me a bemused look and showed me to a table. I sat and had a bottle of chianti and ate my first real Cacio e Pepe and Osso Bucco and watched the goings-on of the little shop unfold, the 2 ladies shouting at each other from the open kitchen to the dining room, the regular families coming in and sitting at long tables, kissing each other on the cheeks jovially, it was like a symphony and I had a front-row seat.
After that unexpected, incredible (and incredibly reasonably priced) meal I began to wander around, taking in the sights. I passed the Pantheon kept wandering until I came across a church, St. Ignatius of Loyola, that had its doors open to the night. I walked in and there was this lovely choir singing and I looked up to see the church's "false dome", a 1685 fresco that creates the optical illusion of a dome on a flat ceiling that I had actually seen in a Rick Steves' video while planning my trip. I had just wandered into the church, drawn in by the sound of the choir, and discovered I was in a place I had wanted to be without even realizing it.
I left the church and kept walking, it was late June and the weather was perfect so I just kept going, all of the buildings, monuments, and statues were illuminated and there was the sound of a string band and the smell of juniper in the air. I came to Trajan's forum and was admiring the column there when I came around a corner and caught my first glimpse of the Coliseum in the distance. It was a decent way off but I figured what the heck and set off in its direction. I got closer and came around a brick wall that was obstructing my view and just stopped in my tracks. One of the most famous buildings in the world, a testament to western civilization and mankind's craftmanship and ingenuity was bathed in the light of the full moon. It was spectacular. I had known about this place since I was a small child and I was finally seeing it with my own eyes, I felt like I was the only one seeing it.

A couple of days after that I woke up eagerly anticipating going to see the Pantheon and the after-hours Vatican tour that I had booked, only to be disappointed by a message from the guide informing me that it was St. Peter and Paul's Day, and effectively, the whole city was shut down. I was pretty discouraged but figured I didn't need to let something I didn't have any control over put a damper on my trip. I googled and saw that the Pantheon was open, so I walked there, wrong. There was a line of about 40 people waiting to just get a glimpse through the crack of the gigantic doors. I saw what I could see through the doors and walked off, dejectedly, trying to find something else open. I put my headphones in and ended up walking about 45 mins up to the Borghese gardens and gallery. I got up to the grounds and it was at least ten degrees cooler than it was on the street, smelled fantastic, and had very few people. I wandered around for a while until I came to the gallery. I went online to check and see if there were any tickets available, unsurprisingly, there were not. There was a sign on the entrance that encouraged you to ask at the desk to see if there were any last minute tickets that had come up through cancellations or whatnot so I went up to the desk and asked the attendant if that was the case. Predictably, it was not.
I stood around for a minute, trying to figure out my next move when I saw the desk where three ladies were taking the entrance tickets and letting people into the exhibit. I walked up to them and put on my best charm,

"Hello, I was wondering if there was any way I might be able to get in to see the gallery today?" I asked, hopefully.

One of the ladies behind the counter looked at me slightly confused "Sir, did you ask the man at the main counter if there were any tickets?"

"Well, I did, and he said no", I said, "But please hear me out, it's my last day here and I didn't realize it was St. Peter and Paul's Day and everything in the city is shut down." She nodded, sympathetically. I continued, "This is the last thing on my list, is there anything you can do?"

"It's just you?", She asked. I nodded. She turned back to the other two ladies that were at the counter with her and whispered with them in Italian for a moment. She turned back to me and handed me a laminated pass. "Here, don't tell anyone. Have fun."

I lit up, "Grazie Mille, senora! Grazie Mille!", and bounded up the stairs into the exhibit and got to see some of the most amazing pieces of art I've seen to this day all thanks to a kind Italian woman taking pity on a dumb American's ignorance of local customs.

I finished the gallery and kept walking, past Piazza Navona and the Spanish Steps to Piazza del Popolo, where a celebration was planned for the holiday. I got a quick slice of pizza and a beer and walked into the square with the thousands of other Romans to wait for the festivities to start. The mayor came and said some words, there was a band, and they had an amazing fireworks display and I remember watching them go off above the six thousand year old Egyptian obelisk that had stood in the square since before the time of Christ and just thinking about how unbelievable it was that a day I thought was shot to hell when I woke up turned into one of my favorite and most memorable days I've had while traveling. It's times like that day that have taught me to never get too discouraged or frustrated when things don't go as planned, to go with the flow, and when all else fails, to turn on the charm.


TL;DR just go to Rome by yourself and let it come to you.