After checking every single cabinet and drawer in the diner-style kitchen (some call it research or curiosity, but I know I’m just nosy), I opened the fridge last. There might as well have been golden light emanating from the door’s middle shelf where a carafe of cold water sat. My shoulders relaxed from relief, and after chugging a full glass, I felt touched—the hosts of this Airbnb in the center of Rome had thought to leave this for me.
I’d arrived to the Eternal City early that morning on a red-eye and spent the day sightseeing, both ecstatic to set foot in Italy for the first time and slowly wilting under the relentless late-August sunlight.
As it approached noon and the temperature neared triple digits, I found a bench to cool my heels in a small, quiet park—that just happened to overlook the Colosseum. Ancient stones peeked through bright green leaves on trees lining a walking path, and I almost preferred the partially obscured view. I’d filled up my water bottle at a nearby nasone and sat in silence with souvenir vendors also cooling off in the shade.
After picking up the luggage I’d stashed near the train station, I sought refuge from the heat one last time at the Basilica Papale di Santa Maria Maggiore. (I couldn’t leave Rome without seeing a church, and I knew I wouldn’t have time for the Vatican on this trip.) Then I headed to my digs for the night, near the Campo dei Fiori in the rione Parione.
After climbing up to the fourth floor of the circa-16th century building, I reached a beautiful set of double wooden doors that opened into the foyer, off which sat the kitchen. You know what happened next.
My delight kept growing when I realized the apartment had glorious AC. Having lived in New York City for years, I’m no stranger to a lack of air conditioning, so I hadn’t counted on it.
The living room was cozy with two couches and a smart TV that I’d take advantage of later that evening. Tall windows let in lots of light but sheer curtains kept the heat out. The layout was split-level and up the first set of steps was a loft-style bedroom overlooking the living room. I immediately felt like I was in a writers’ den. The double mattress rested directly on brick-colored tiles; the sloped ceiling had rich wood paneling and beams; and there was a desk overlooking the entire reason I’d booked this place: the balcony.
I fantasized about enjoying cheese and an Italian red on my own private balcony before the trip. Once I stepped out on the terrace, I realized I’d have to adjust given the boiling temperature. The sun beat down hard on the balcony, baking the ceramic planters and black metal patio set.
