Rome is not real, it’s a good Italian myth: una commedia and una tragedia that fills glasses full of tears with the taste of Tuscan wine. Located in Central Italy, it is the perfect crossroad between the stereotypically pretentious North and overly rowdily vibrant South. Calmer than the life, death of Naples and minus the posh sentiment of Milan that is almost too good to be Italian, Rome is the genuine Italy. But more, Rome is love. No wonder "Roma" read backwards spells "Amor."

How can Julius Caesar and Augustus neighbor with Renaissance pieces of art and Mercedes-Benz public busses? No other city is as comfortable in being a playground of ancient ruins. The contrasts descend further into the walkway by the Tiber River and up onto the Seven Hills of Rome. It’s always up or down. Too hot or monsoons. But even in this Rome remains authentic in the love that gives off from every crevice in the cobblestone and the way it marries old and new.

When one tires from looking around, one looks up to see the contrast between the blue and the orange. The same orange is seen on the AS Roma emblem. It is the color of an Aperol Spritz served in every bar. The same golden color sets above Rome every evening. But it also glistens Rome forever; the rusty orange of the buildings never fades. Against the blue of the sky, outlined with green crawlers and umbrella-pines, the citrus shade gives off a warm, homely vibe.

Aperol Spritz vs. AS Roma

If one could just see Rome from the point of view of a drone-camera, one would see an endless maze of orange with tiny, serpentine alleys aimlessly leading nowhere. In fact, while the famous saying goes ‘all roads lead to Rome," none of the Roman roads lead to where one is going. Instead of the fabulous Fontana di Trevi, one might discover the fountain atop Gianicolo without the slightest bit of disappointment.

I blame the food drowsiness (Italian: Abbiocco) after a hearty meal for the wandering and lost feeling of being in the right place. Sometimes that doziness will bring to another place for another meal, perche no? Or a glass of Brunello that will teach the Italian tongue in one evening.

Rome is not standing in lines to the Coliseum or Vatican Museums. While those are wonderful examples of its uniqueness, Rome is the love that one is enveloped in and the love which one exerts. And it’s a crazy, stupid kind of love. Pickpockets one morning and then free pasta for dinner just because the owner feels like it.

"Churches, villas, ruins, pillars, I study them all, take notes, attempt to do all that a Grand Tourist should. It soon wears thin, however. Visit temple after temple. In only one of them does an initiate feel at home - Yes, Love’s. A world you may be Rome, and yet without love, The world would not be the world, Rome would not be Rome." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Goethe famously confessed such in his “Roman Egies” of the 'eternal city,' a very suiting nickname. One only needs an extra day to look beyond the physical structure of the city to see the love that makes Rome, Rome.

The Romans are full of love too and they showcase it. Restaurants quickly fill with lovers on a date, no matter what age, every evening. But they just as well take it outside. Against Vespa’s, cars, or walls, there is no way avoiding their expression of sentiments. Their kisses passionately linger on for hours, giving by-passers a show and leaving only a bit to imagination. In every piazza and on every set of stairs there is a fairytale ending for someone (at least for that night.) In daylight, those turn into shameless catcalls and small expressions of sympathy from strangers.

Rome is absolutely not real, but believe in fairytales.