Most of our guests arrive for the coast and never make it inland, which we understand — the beach is ninety seconds away, and the pool has a view that makes leaving it feel unnecessary. But the old town is a ten-minute walk from the lobby, and it holds a version of the city the postcards don't show.
Start at the Tiberius Bridge, still carrying traffic after nearly two thousand years, and follow Corso d'Augusto in as the evening light goes long. By seven, Piazza Malatesta fills with exactly the kind of unhurried crowd Fellini used to film — kids on bicycles, old men arguing gently about football, a gelato queue that never quite gets shorter.
We send guests to a wine bar two streets off the piazza that doesn't have a sign, only a chalkboard. Order the Sangiovese and whatever the owner is serving with it. Our concierge can draw you the route on a napkin, and usually does.
Come back along the water. The walk home is the best part.
