No matter how you approach the Eternal City, it leaves its mark on you.

Visiting Rome on a repeat of our honeymoon, we saw all the historic sights, enjoyed the opera. Every morning we breakfasted on a “cappuccino e cornetto” in the busy bars on the Via del Corso, near our hotel. The cornettos, Italy’s equivalent of the croissant, were hot and delicious.

At other times we grabbed snacks in one of the thousands of pizza spots. Rome is not a cheap city, but in a tavola calda (literally “hot table”) snackbar, you could enjoy a pizza and a beer for five or six bucks.

Wandering through the narrow streets of the old quarter of Trastevere, we took shelter from a rainstorm in a cosy restaurant. It was your authentic trattoria, with check table-cloths and photos of illustrious clients on the walls.

The only other diners, occupying a long table, were certainly not tourists. Dark-suited and tough-looking, they were a confident bunch, joking, backslapping, occasionally talking into their mobiles. Outside the narrow street was lined with their late-model cars, all illegally parked.

When the group started quaffing Asti Spumante, one came over and filled our glasses. Some special occasion, I asked. He smiled, winked, and whispered in my ear.

“Polizia.”

As I digested this and my fettuccine, I could not help thinking these guardians of the law bore a disturbing resemblance to extras from The Godfather.

I had cause to remember them a few days later. We were heading for the Termini station and, in the absence of taxis, jumped on a bus. There was standing room only and a brown-suited little man obligingly made way for us.

As we swayed through the streets, Signore Brown Suit seemed to have difficulty keeping his feet and several times he shifted his hands from one strap above his head to another, and bumped into us.

Then, at one stop, he abruptly departed. Seconds later, a nasty thought crossed my mind and I felt my securely buttoned breast pocket. The cash I had just drawn from the bank was gone. At that point, I wished I had asked for the telephone number of our Godfather friends. » Read more: Rome Adventure – Even the Thieves Are Artists in the Eternal City