I was lost. In Rome. A mere ten minutes off the Leonardo Express, I found myself discombobulated; attempting to absorb rapid, hostile Italian following asking for directions (in English) from a stressed newsstand proprietor. It was my first challenge as a solo traveller but I would not be defeated. Once I gathered myself and my bearings (so what if I retraced the Vias and Piazzas a few times?) I eventually found my hotel. Feeling like a disoriented swamp donkey, the last thing I expected to encounter was a hotel situated on the fourth floor of an old building. The staircase loomed. Cursing my cowardice preventing the use of a manual, accordion door elevator, I began my ascent, resisting the gravitational pull of my backpack. Suddenly, the sound of a woman rehearsing her operetta became the score for my arrival and my oversized backpack was exchanged for a Nutella filled croissant as I reached my destination. I now had two days of solo adventure before joining my tour group—and I hoped they would pass quickly. Fed, watered, deodorised, and armed with a local sim card—allowing Maps access—I started into the bustle of Roman streets. Initially, it was jarring to be confronted by weathered, beautiful, gothic churches or an obelisk after passing smart-cars and modern bank offices moments before. This seemingly awkward arranged marriage had clearly stood the test of time. It happened so often, that I almost didn’t notice a gaming hall neighbouring the Capuchin Crypts (slots after reviewing religious practices of yore, anyone?). I had decided the crypts were a must-see: bones of deceased friars decoratively arranged seemed…morbidly fascinating. A short walk up from Piazza Barberini, opposite trendy café’s (and that gaming hall) you find the Museum and Crypts of Capuchin Friars. The order was formed in the sixteenth-century by Matteo Bassi, with a doctrine of solitude and penance. It is believed that when the friars moved, they brought the remains of their deceased brothers with them. Exactly when and why these remains were…repurposed… seems a mystery, although some suggest burial space constraints. Photographs within the ossuary are forbidden (make sure to get your postcards on the way out) but with names like Crypt of Skulls, Crypt of Pelvises, Crypt of Leg and Thigh Bones arranged with baroque artistic flare… it may not come as too much of a surprise to find walls adorned with winged cherub-esque creations of skulls and pelvises. After a visit to the catacombs (an extraordinary network of tunnels and burial shelves under the city) and bonding with the metro lines, my day ended with a late dinner of cacio-e-pepe, and a sleepy-head swirling with sights and sounds of modern Rome. The next morning; Nutella fuelled, I braved the elevator, spurred on by the newly familiar soundtrack of opera rehearsal, and with my camera at the ready I began my scenic amble. I purchased original watercolours, took selfies below the Trinita dei Monti overlooking the Spanish steps, wandered past Piazza del Popolo and came upon Villa Borghese. A marvellous expanse of greenery, statues and splashes of bougainvillaea—Galleria Borghese boasts seventeenth-century masterpieces by Caravaggio, Bernini and more, for those of artistic persuasion. Treating myself to gelato I was suddenly faced by a local, asking questions in rapid-fire Italian. Apparently, he wasn’t sure if the cultural event at the lake had started. Intrigued, I followed, to find a large crowd surrounding the lake. Suddenly, the sound of musicians warming up their instruments danced across the lake. With the backdrop of the Temple of Aesculapius, swans in the foreground and members of the orchestra floating in rowboats in the centre; it was as if never-before-seen footage of Bert’s chalk drawing, from Mary Poppins, had come to life. People-watching, perched on the fountain in Campo De’ Fiori, I wondered how I ever contemplated fast-forwarding to tour group time. I had been rewarded with such unexpected travel highlights that I worried group structure may mean I would miss this, now, favourite part of travel. My curiosity-driven wanderings leading me into secret scenes and stolen moments of history will forever be memory reel highlights. Even though my time was short, I had confidently reworked “Solo Travel” into “Independent Adventure”.