Indeed Rome is a city with so many sobriquets: ‘Caput Mundi’ (the head of the world) still nods knowingly at the past; SPQR is an acronym for ‘The Senate and the People of Rome’; ‘Pax Romana’ was the peace which existed between nationalities within the Roman Empire, and ‘Urbi et orbi’ meaning ‘to the city and the world’ refers specifically to the Vatican in Rome. Indeed it’s the blessing that the pope uses when he addresses the world.

Rome is not so much a city as a civilisation in a state of stylish decay. Legend tells us the city was founded in 753 BC by Romulus, who famously dispatched his twin brother Remus. The Roman Republic (509 BC) was governed by an elite of elderly, eloquent schemers in sandals. Then came Julius Caesar, who made the Rubicon famous and the Ides of March fatal. The Republic slipped into Empire and so began a parade of emperors: some wise (Augustus), some wild (Nero), and others who made their horses into consuls (Caligula). By AD 117, Rome’s dominion stretched from the fog of Britannia to the sands of Arabia. Then, like all empires, it tottered. Visigoths, Vandals, and the passage of popes took turns at reshaping her.

And what grandeur to follow as The Renaissance dusted Rome off and gave her frescoes, domes, and of course Michelangelo. Then with what extravagance did the Baroque make her theatrical.

Rome is best traversed not by car, nor tram, nor scooter (the latter being something of a high-stakes lottery), but by foot. To say that Rome is a city of layers is a cliché. Every espresso bar could once have been a senator’s villa or a gladiator’s haunt. There really is something to see around every corner.

You must see the Pantheon, in the city centre. It possesses such a remarkable and timeless elegance. Originally built by Hadrian as a temple to the Roman gods, it’s the best-preserved example of ancient Roman architecture. The oculus, a circular opening at the apex of its dome, allows sunlight to stream into the cavernous interior which illuminates the marble columns and the intricate detailing adorning its walls. As I stepped inside I felt I had travelled back in time as I witnessed the full genius of Roman engineering and the reverence paid to their gods.

Close by lies the Piazza Navona, built atop the ancient Stadium of Domitian. This is Rome at its most baroque and flamboyant: fountains by Bernini, façades by Borromini, and gelato sold in every conceivable hue of pistachio. Here, la passeggiata, that uniquely Italian ritual of aimless, graceful strolling, takes on an operatic flair. Roman couples, arm in arm, move as if choreographed by Fellini. No Roman itinerary is complete without the Forum. Walk among the broken columns, and you’ll hear Cicero declaiming in the rustle of olive leaves. From here, clamber up the Palatine Hill, named after palatium, which gave us the word ‘palace’.

Then, like any dutiful tourist, make your way to the Colosseum. Named not for its size (though it is colossal) but for the colossal statue of Nero that once stood nearby, which was finished in 80 AD as the largest amphitheatre ever built. It’s a symbol of ancient engineering prowess. Its imposing facade evokes the great spectacles of gladiatorial combat that once filled its arena: a word which comes from the Latin harena, meaning sand, which covered the floor to soak up blood. It’s open from 9 am to one hour before sunset. However I warn you that it’s very crowded and with such queues it’s probably better enjoyed from the outside. As I stood in its shadow I could almost hear the echoes of a bygone era. I marvelled at the precision with which its arches were crafted and the sheer scale of its construction.

If you seek a taste of the dolce far niente (‘the sweetness of doing nothing’), cross the Tiber to Trastevere, the ‘other’ side of Rome, its bohemian twin and meaning ‘across the Tiber’ which retains that outsider charm. It has that drop in pace so essential when visiting a city. It’s definitely one of the capital’s prettiest districts. Here among the small and winding ivy-draped lanes of Trastevere I climbed up to San Pietro in Montorio and its courtyard housing the architecturally impressive Tempietto, housing Bramante’s circular colonnaded tomb. It’s a masterpiece of harmony, expressing the High Renaissance at its acme and marking the traditional spot of St. Peter’s martyrdom.

Across Rome the Baroque facades are arresting in their extravagance. The churches are an invitation to perceive the divine. There are several exponents of this Baroque style which Rome so influentially gave to the world. Bernini is best to be revered at the Gallery Borghese. My favourite architect of the period is Borromini, a pioneer and a visionary who rivalled Bernini in gaining the patronage from the sequence of popes. His style was dramatic, pure, and clever to the extreme. You only have to peer up at the walls and ceilings of the church Sant’Ivo alla Sapienza to see how brilliantly he has crafted a sense of harmony, often from impossible angles. Likewise at the church San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane he has managed to conjure up concave and convex beauty from extraordinary tight architectural proportions.

Of course, no tour of Rome would be complete without the Vatican, the spiritual and administrative centre of the Catholic Church. Climb the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica, or even its towering dome, and survey the city as Michelangelo did. You cannot talk about Roman architecture in earnest without mentioning it with its lavishly decorated interior and immense scale. It’s a testament to the power and influence of the Papacy throughout history. Its vast nave is adorned with masterful works of art which create an atmosphere of awe and reverence that is truly unparalleled. For here lies La Pieta, an early statue by Michelangelo that was to launch his career stratospherically.

Within the Vatican Museums, you’ll find more masterpieces than most cities can claim in total: Raphael’s School of Athens, a fresco of philosopher-friends rendered with true genius; the Sistine Chapel, where Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam lingers mid-touch; and endless corridors lined with antiquities.

And finally, as dusk turns the stones to a gorgeous bronze colour, toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain with your right hand over left shoulder, as the ritual demands. As the coin splashes into Neptune’s watery realm, one makes the inevitable promise: to return. And Rome smiles, knowing you will. Night-time is the best moment to see it when it’s just so romantic, when it parades before its illuminated backdrop and when it doesn’t have the distraction of the other buildings you see by day.

For places to stay, utter luxury comes at a price but you can’t do better than the recently opened Bulgari with its long and classical portico of travertine colonnades and telepathically attentive staff, or Hotel Hassler, with its impressive white-hatted doormen and in walking distance of the luxury boutiques such as Valentino and Prada. Or Hotel Eden, located in a highly exclusive area and historically a magnet to all the stars with its ceilings covered in golden coffers and its rooms with the freshest of flowers. For somewhere cheaper, try the fresh and contemporary Radisson Collection Hotel, Roma Antica. You can’t beat a brand-new hotel.

In Rome, one doesn’t merely eat – one communes, one conducts a kind of edible liturgy. Each meal is a minor sacrament, every ingredient a relic. Begin with cacio e pepe: a dish so deceptively simple it could be mistaken for peasant fare, were it not for its divine alchemy. Just pasta, pecorino, and pepper. Yet here, simplicity masquerades as genius. The name itself is a taut little poem: cacio (cheese), pepe (pepper), and that perfectly Roman disdain for excess. From there, carciofi alla giudia: artichokes fried into a bronze ruffle offer a nod to the Jewish Ghetto’s culinary legacy. Giudia, from the Italian for ‘Jewish’, reminds us how gastronomy and geography entwine. No Roman feast omits supplì, those molten orbs of rice and ragù: so named from the French surprise, because of the hidden mozzarella within. They are street food’s very best, hot and humble. For dessert, one must speak of maritozzo: a sweet bun cleaved open and stuffed with whipped cream. Its name derives from marito, husband, once offered as a breakfast gift from fiancé to fiancée. One bite and you, too, are wed. And to drink? A humble Frascati, dry and golden, best sipped while the sun gilds the trasteverini rooftops. Rome doesn’t feed you. It courts you, seduces you, baptises you in olive oil, and dusts you with grated grace. As the Italians say, a tavola non si invecchia: at the table, one does not grow old.

It’s often in some of the high-end hotels that top chefs preside. There’s Niko Romito restaurant at Bulgari for a real treat and there’s Simone Frezzotti at Modius on the Roof at Roma Antica. I also love the unpretentious offering at Six Senses’s Bivium restaurant with its eco-conscious, progressive menu while, at a more modest cost, I highly recommend Ristorante Roof Garden at Hotel Forum with its panoramic view across the Forum.

Rome’s Fiumicino Airport is a breeze. Best advice is to pre-order a taxi to wait for you, especially if you need a child seat, and you aren’t alone. A minivan will cost €70 for the 40-minute ride. Reliable, and the drivers are charming for the most part. On the way back the ‘official’ rate is €48 but agree with a cab at a rank beforehand. There is a bus service from the airport (€6) but it’s slow. Fastest option is the train, the Leonardo Express, which takes you to Termini station in 32 minutes (where it connects with both metro lines – the metro is fine but you will miss the sights!). The train runs every 15 minutes and costs €17,90. By the way, taxis in Rome are reasonable – a short journey in the centre costs around €10.

The city’s name, after all, gave birth to the word ‘romance’ and it does it generously. So “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”.