A funny thing happened on the way to the cake shop

On Tuesday, as we sat in the sunshine eating our lunch (the world’s best pizza from Pizzeria Franco & Cristina), Chris, Sam and I were annoyed by the whirr of a police helicopter circling overhead. The chopper continued to buzz around during our afternoon siesta and was still an irritating presence when we left for our afternoon walk. We had decided to stroll Via Veneto, a street lined with Rome's most expensive hotels. On the way home we would collect dessert at a pasticceria we had reconnoitred the previous day.

Enough pizza, yet?

Around the Pantheon many streets were blocked by police. As we crossed via del Corso (the main street through the city), which was completely blockaded by heavily-armed riot squads, we spotted a massive plume of black smoke rising from Piazza del Popolo (the city’s main public square). Streets around the Trevi Fountain, and in fact a large part of the inner city, had also become no-access zones.

By the time we reached via Veneto, via a very round-about route, the city was a ghost town. A voice on a loud speaker, evacuating people from Villa Borghese Gardens, broke the eerie silence and a genuine feeling of menace hung in the air. We were still unaware of what the problem was, but I had my fingers crossed that whatever it was would result in the closure of the airport for several weeks, leaving us stranded in the city. Something strange was afoot so we chose to head back to the safety of our apartment – via the pasticceria, of course.

Our craving for a cake had become an obsession. We artfully criss-crossed the bizarrely-quiet and deserted city, avoiding police and military barricades. When we reached the Pantheon (the pasticceria was very close now) we were confident our mission would be a success. As we rounded the corner onto our pasticerria’s street a massive police truck was parked across the road directly in front of the shop, barring our way.

Although the heavily-armed policemen were turning people back, we still endeavoured to get through. Surely they’d understand that unlike everyone else we truly needed to pass. We could see the front door of the shop, we could smell the delicious dolce urging us ever closer, but the lawmen were as unbending as the muzzles of their M-16 assault rifles.

That evening, over a two-course meal, we discovered there were widespread riots in Rome, including burning barricades, over the allegedly corrupt and totally sleazy Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s narrow victory in a second no-confidence vote.

We are nearing the end of our time in Rome and we’ve been relishing our final week. Yesterday was brilliant. We returned to the Parco delgi Arancia (the park with orange trees, high on the Aventine hill) and played an impromptu game of football using oranges as balls. Sam loved it and couldn’t stop laughing, especially each time one of us accidentally stepped on and squashed the ball. Even though the temperature stubbornly sat at three degrees we all managed to work up a sweat. In the late afternoon as dusk began to draw we took a return visit to Castel Sant’ Angelo. By the time we climbed to the top of the fortress night had fallen and the view over the river and city was unforgettable.

Night view from Castel Sant’ Angelo, with St Peter’s in background