Ten hours in Rome is kind of insulting, to Rome. Ten hours leaves you hardly enough time for anything-no Vatican, no museums, no leisurely tour of those fountains from Angels & Demons (joke).
Ten hours is just enough time to sit down under a blooming trellis and order a bottle of wine, a plate of antipasti and Spaghetti Carbonara. Mozzarella in Rome put what I’d been eating all my life to shame. So much so that after finishing the Spaghetti Carbonara I ordered another plate and ate it. By myself, while my mother watched in disbelief .
Then Tiramisu. Then Cappuccino.