My journey by train from Trieste to Rome heralds a change in the weather. Rome greets me with humidity and warmth but within a few hours the sky turns leaden. Then comes the rain, although temperatures stay in the comfortable mid 20s. The stop and start downpour washes Rome's tarmac roads and cobblestone side streets while casting a dull light on ochre walls and ancient stone. My weekend is spent darting for cover while sightseeing, nipping in and out of sudden showers. Umbrellas erupt everywhere, providing circles of bright colour along gloomily lit streets.

Early Saturday morning I lean from my third-floor apartment window in Via Laurina and see shopkeepers huddled in doorways below. In between the showers a pale sun tries hard to gleam. Church bells seem to peal in concert whenever it manages to briefly dispel the cloak of overcast grey.

But I'm not the least discouraged by the wet. I am so thrilled to once again be in the Eternal City that by 7am I am out walking deserted damp streets with camera in hand. At the famous Spanish Steps I take a photo with hardly anyone in view – quite unusual for such a perennially crowded tourist haunt where, later in the day, even rain does not deter crowds gathering.

The Spanish Steps – but with no crowds!

Taking an unplanned, wandering route across town from the Via Corso I go in search of what's reputedly the best coffee in Rome, available in the Piazza Sant'Eustachio, which is conveniently close to both the Pantheon and Piazza Navona. Some cafes I pass are already open. A few customers are reading morning newspapers over an early breakfast at tables in the little square beside the San Lorenzo in Lucina church.

Early morning at San Lorenzo in Lucina.

The Pantheon.

Inside the Pantheon.

The Piazza Navona is practically deserted at this early hour but soon I see the first tourist groups arrive, obviously collected from their hotels at 8am and probably facing a long and arduous day covering Rome's copious historic sights.

Piazza Navona, practically deserted in the early morning.

I'm far more fortunate to have a relaxed personal schedule with nothing more on my mind than wandering and watching. A grand caffe at the Sant'Eustachio Cafe is as good as reported, a real kick in the pants. Duly boosted, I am spurred to further exploration, by which time Rome is well awake yet still being gently cleansed by showers.

This little shop arguably sells the best coffee in Rome.

When I arrive at the Trevi I find the famous piazza is as crowded as ever. While I am there the rain ceases for a moment and the day immediately brightens, casting a soft and delicate wash of light across the fountain's spectacular statues. But just as suddenly the umbrellas are up again.

The Trevi Fountain – rain shall not deter the crowds.

Umbrellas up at the Trevi fountain.

I move on, heading toward the huge Piazza Venezia where I take the road leading right of the gigantic monument to Vittorio Emanuele III. Passing the venerable ruins of the Teatro de Marcello I finally reach the river.

The Tiber from the Ponte Palatino with Ponte Cestio in the background.

I spend hours on foot working my way back and forth across the Tiber, visiting the quarter called Travestere, strolling through its narrow streets and lanes, then recrossing the river at the Ponte Massini and heading upriver to reach the Castel Sant'Angelo, which I find is totally obscured by rain.

Rome glistening in the wet.

Now it's pelting down, forcing me to dodge into doorways for shelter until each brief downpour eases. Dashing to escape yet another abrupt deluge I momentarily lose my sense of direction and begin tracing circles in curving streets, which eventually dump me back onto Corso V. Emanuele.

Via del Croce, rendered gloomy perhaps, yet fascinating.

My shoes, now sodden from tracking through deep and unavoidable puddles, make a strange sound on the cobblestones. Is there an Italian word for squelch?

I'm lugging my backpack across my chest, protected under my umbrella. My legs however are soaked. Yet my traveller's soul is ablaze for I am wandering aimlessly, freely, sometimes even singing in the rain, as I absorb an architectural compendium of Roman history.