Capturing Rome: Day 11- One Last Look

As the saying goes, “All roads lead to Rome,” and after two weeks immersed in Lutz Dolce Vita, I can confirm the truth of that phrase. Our adventure began at the Colosseum, where the echoes of ancient battles still reverberate, before gliding through the romantic canals of Venice. We marveled at the opulence of Lake Como’s villas, trekked the colorful cliffs of the Cinque Terre, and stood in awe before Michelangelo’s David in Florence. We honored the sacrifices of American soldiers at a quiet cemetery and found peace in the spiritual embrace of Assisi. Finally, our journey came full circle, returning to Rome, where it all began—a city as timeless as the memories we created.

But more than the sights, this trip was about gratitude—two weeks exploring Italy with my parents and brother, experiencing moments that felt like a gift. In the chaos of our busy lives—me in Los Angeles, my parents in Arizona, and my brother back in Seattle—finding time to come together is rare. Sharing unforgettable meals, stunning views, and quiet moments of reflection made us reluctant to go back to our mundane, regularly scheduled lives.

I could have easily spent another two weeks uncovering more of Italy’s wonders. But what made this trip unforgettable wasn’t just the destination—it was sharing it with family, savoring a slice of La Dolce Vita together.

Overview

Afternoon Solo Photo Walk

After a quick lunch, I grabbed my camera and set off on my own, eager to capture every last moment of this remarkable city. As a photographer, there’s nothing quite like wandering solo, letting the rhythm of the streets guide you. This was one of my final chances to do so in Italy, and the excitement of not knowing what I might stumble upon kept me moving. Around every corner, it felt like the city was offering up another unexpected gem, waiting to be framed.

I made my way to the Colosseum, drawn back for one last look at this awe-inspiring marvel. The energy was infectious—tourists and locals alike stood in reverence of the ancient amphitheater, their faces lit with wonder. I was no different, still spellbound by its sheer scale and enduring presence. Even now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in awe of this building, a monument that feels as alive as the city itself.

Sunset at the Papal Basilica of Saint Mary Major

As the sun began to set, I found myself drawn to the Papal Basilica of Saint Mary Major, not far from our hotel. The golden hour cast the basilica in a warm, almost ethereal glow, while the ringing of church bells echoed off nearby buildings. Vespas buzzed by with locals heading home, and nuns briskly made their way to Saturday mass. I paused to take it all in, capturing a few fleeting moments with my camera, grateful to feel present in this beautifully ordinary slice of Roman life.

Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the fifth-century golden mosaics, shimmering with an ancient brilliance that felt almost alive. But what truly impressed me was the grandeur of the Baroque styling—an overwhelming blend of opulence and artistry that seemed to demand my attention.

This trip, more than any other, had me spending significant time in churches as an adult, and I noticed how each carried a unique personality. Some were intimate spaces for quiet prayer, while others, like this one, were unapologetically grand—an architectural sermon that shouted the power and presence of the Catholic Church.

Visiting the Vatican

On my final day in Rome, there was no better way to close out Lutz Dolce Vita than by stepping into the Vatican, the heart of the Roman Catholic Church. This tiny city-state, home to just 1,000 residents, maybe the smallest country in the world, but its influence stretches far beyond its borders.

I grew up attending a humble United Methodist Church in Wenatchee, WA—simple, unassuming, and a world away from what stood before me now. As I approached St. Peter’s Basilica, I was in awe. We had visited churches in every city on this trip, each with its own grandeur, but this? This was the titan of them all. The largest church in the world, a masterpiece of faith and ambition, St. Peter’s didn’t just stand—it loomed, reminding me that Rome, even at the very end of my journey, still had the power to overwhelm.

Exploring St. Peter’s Square

While waiting to enter St. Peter’s Basilica I was blown away by the exterior of the building and the square around me with stunning ornate details that makes this a photographer’s playground. Everywhere I looked there were stunning details that I wanted to capture. This includes stunning statues of the disciples and saints. The architecture in St. Peter’s Square was something to feast on with its Greek-inspired pillars and leading lines that create long shadows that seem like they go on forever.

However, this was only an appetizer for what I was about to experience when entering the world’s largest church.

Stepping inside St. Peter’s Basilica

St. Peter’s Basilica defies description. I knew it was big, but I wasn’t prepared for how monumental it felt. At 615 feet long, it could swallow two football fields whole. The dome soars 448 feet, tall enough to fit the Statue of Liberty inside. The basilica can hold over 60,000 people, and when we entered around 2:45 p.m., it was busy—pilgrims, tourists, and worshippers filling the vast space—yet it still felt like it could take in thousands more without breaking a sweat.

But it wasn’t just the size—it was the artistry. Towering marble sculptures, carved with an almost inhuman level of precision, filled every corner. My camera never left my hand, desperate to capture the details—every intricate relief, every shimmering mosaic. But no lens could do it justice. Walking through St. Peter’s felt like an ant stepping into the hollow of a redwood, completely engulfed by its vastness, lost in its timeless grandeur.

Getting lost in the Vatican Museum

After losing ourselves in the grandeur of St. Peter’s Basilica, we made our way to the Vatican Museums, home to one of the most jaw-dropping art collections in the world. With over 20,000 pieces spread across nine miles of galleries, seeing it all in one day is impossible. Even with a guided tour, we barely scratched the surface, each hallway revealing another century of genius waiting to be unpacked.

But even a few hours in this place was enough to be shaken by its brilliance. Standing before these masterpieces felt like having a conversation across time—a silent dialogue between artist and viewer. Every brushstroke, every sculpture, every painstakingly detailed fresco held a message, a glimpse into the hopes, fears, and ambitions of the people who created them. As a video editor, I get the luxury of time to let a story unfold. These artists? They distilled entire worlds into a single, perfect image—a reminder of the raw, immediate power of visual storytelling.

The tour ended in the Sistine Chapel, where photography was forbidden, but honestly, no camera could do it justice. Stepping inside felt like a visual gut punch—every inch of the walls and ceiling bursting with color, movement, and divine intensity. At the center of it all, Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam—that near-touch between man and God—anchored a masterpiece so vast and intricate that my eyes didn’t know where to land.

The room was packed with tourists, yet there was an eerie hush, as if everyone instinctively knew they were standing in front of something bigger than themselves. My neck ached from staring up, my mind raced to absorb it all, and as I finally turned to leave, I realized I was picking my jaw up off the marble floor.

I could’ve wandered these halls for days, soaking in the madness and genius of it all. Just another reason why I know I’ll be back in Rome, chasing Lutz Dolce Vita once again.