After Lockdown, I Was Happy To Explore Rome Again So I Drew These 19 Illustrations Of My Cat Walking Around The City

The first time I returned to Rome after lockdown, I expected fireworks: angels singing, fountains sparkling, my phone camera automatically switching to “cinematic mode.”
What I actually got was… a very normal Tuesday feeling. My legs were thrilled to be in motion again, my brain was slightly suspicious of crowds, and my heart kept doing
that thing where it whispers, “Remember when we stayed inside for a year and called it a lifestyle?”

So I brought a sketchbook. Not because I’m a Serious Artist who only drinks espresso and speaks in metaphors, but because drawing is the fastest way I know to slow down
without feeling like I’m wasting time. And because I needed a sidekicksomeone brave enough to march confidently into every piazza like they owned it.
Enter: my cat. (Not physically. I’m adventurous, not chaotic.)

Instead, I “invited” my cat into Rome through illustration: 19 small scenes of her strolling the city like a tiny, furry tour guide with absolutely no interest in
queue lines. The result was a personal postcard set: part travel diary, part love letter to Rome, part ongoing proof that cats would run the world bettermostly because
they’d cancel all meetings and replace them with naps.

Why Rome Felt New Again After Lockdown

Post-lockdown travel can be weirdly emotional. You’re excited, surebut you’re also re-learning how to be around people, noise, and movement.
The world didn’t become less beautiful; you just became more sensitive to it. That’s not weakness. That’s your nervous system rebooting.

Rome is basically the opposite of “quiet mode.” It’s scooters, church bells, laughter ricocheting off stone, and the sudden realization that every street corner
looks like a movie set. If your first day back in a big city feels overwhelming, you’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it honestly.

A gentle trick: trade urgency for curiosity

Instead of racing between landmarks like you’re collecting Infinity Stones, try walking one neighborhood slowly.
When you commit to fewer stops, you notice more: the way laundry lines cross alleys like bunting, the way sunlight hits old plaster, the way cafés become tiny theaters.
My sketches started as a coping strategy and turned into a method: walk, pause, draw, breathe, repeat.

Rome Is a Walking City (And Your Sketchbook Will Thank You)

Rome rewards people who explore on foot. Many of the city’s best moments happen between the “big sights”in the little streets where you’re not trying to capture
a postcard, you’re just living inside one.

My favorite “cat-speed” neighborhoods for wandering

• Trastevere: Ivy, warm light, narrow lanes, and the kind of evening energy that makes you forget what time zones are.
• Monti: Close to major ruins, full of charming corners, and ideal for sketching staircases, balconies, and the occasional dramatic doorway.
• Centro Storico: The classicspiazzas, fountains, and architecture that makes your pencil hand shake with excitement.
• Testaccio: More local, more lived-in, and excellent for food-inspired sketches (because carbs deserve documentation).
• Prati: A calmer vibe near the Vatican, with tidy streets that feel like a palate cleanser after the historic center’s swirl.

Timing matters: Rome is different at 7 a.m.

If you want breathing roomphysically and creativelytry early mornings. The famous spots feel more spacious, the light is softer, and you can actually hear fountains
instead of a hundred people saying “Wait, take it again, my hair looks like a croissant.”

The 19 Illustration Idea: One Cat, Nineteen Tiny Roman Adventures

The concept was simple: pick one Rome scene, “place” my cat into it, and draw what it felt likenot just what it looked like.
A cat is a perfect stand-in for a traveler because cats are basically professional observers. They take their time. They judge everything.
They sit where they’re not supposed to sit. (Relatable.)

How I chose the scenes

I made a list of places with strong silhouettes and obvious “Rome energy”domes, arches, fountains, cobblestonesthen added a cat-sized story to each.
The cat wasn’t there to be cute (though she absolutely was). She was there to guide the eye through the scene and to add a tiny emotional punch:
“Yes, this city is enormous, but you can still feel at home in it.”

The 19 Rome moments I turned into cat illustrations

1. The Colosseum: Cat sits like an ancient emperor, unimpressed by 2,000 years of hype.
2. Roman Forum viewpoint: Cat stares into ruins like she remembers them personally.
3. The Pantheon: Cat looks up at the dome, pretending the oculus is a laser pointer from the gods.
4. Piazza Navona: Cat dodges painters and tourists like she has appointments.
5. Trevi Fountain: Cat watches coin tosses and silently calculates her retirement plan.
6. Spanish Steps (from the side): Cat chooses the quieter angle, because she’s not here for chaos.
7. Via Margutta: Cat strolls a charming little street that feels like a secret.
8. Campo de’ Fiori market: Cat negotiates with a vendor in the universal language of intense eye contact.
9. Trastevere alleyway: Cat weaves between cobblestones like she owns the neighborhood.
10. Ponte Sisto at dusk: Cat watches reflections on the Tiber like they’re a reality show.
11. Tiber Island: Cat pauses mid-bridge, dramatically framed by water and sky.
12. Jewish Ghetto street scene: Cat investigates a bakery window with full sincerity.
13. Castel Sant’Angelo viewpoint: Cat stands guard, small but emotionally authoritative.
14. Vatican colonnade: Cat marches through columns like she’s leading a parade.
15. Prati café corner: Cat claims a chair and invents a new rule: espresso is for everyone.
16. Villa Borghese gardens: Cat finds a sun patch the size of a postage stamp and calls it paradise.
17. Janiculum Hill overlook: Cat watches the city like she’s responsible for its maintenance.
18. Aventine Keyhole area: Cat peers into the famous view like she discovered it first.
19. Largo di Torre Argentina (cat sanctuary vibe): Cat meets Rome’s unofficial residents and acts like she’s networking.

How to Make Travel Illustrations That Don’t Feel Like Homework

If you’ve ever thought, “I’d love to draw in Rome, but I’m not good enough,” congratulationsyou’ve just joined the largest art club on Earth.
The secret is that travel sketching isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence.

My simple “on-location” drawing system

• Timebox it: 10–20 minutes per sketch keeps it playful and stops you from overworking.
• Start with shapes: Big forms first (domes, arches, blocks), details later.
• Pick one story point: The cat on the step. The scooter streak. The laundry line. One detail that says “this is here.”
• Let people blur: Suggest movement with a few lines. Rome is alive; your sketch can be, too.
• Use any media: Pencil, pen, watercolor, markerwhatever you’ll actually carry.

Why drawing from observation hits different

Photos capture what you saw; sketches capture how it felt to be there. A sketch forces you to notice the angle of a shadow, the tilt of a roofline, the personality of
a place. In a city like Rome, that’s a superpowerbecause the city is basically a museum that forgot to put walls around itself.

“But Did You Actually Walk Your Cat Around Rome?” (A Safety Reality Check)

No. My real cat stayed home, where she could safely patrol her kingdom (also known as my laundry pile) and supervise the tragic under-filling of her food bowl.
The cat in the illustrations is a charactermy way of stitching comfort into a huge, exciting city.

That said: people do leash-train cats, and it can be a safe way to offer outdoor enrichmentif the cat enjoys it and you do it thoughtfully.
If you’re imagining a “cat walking around the city” scenario in real life, here’s the responsible version.

Leash-walking a cat: the basics

• Use a well-fitting harness (not just a collar): Cats can slip collars and can get hurt if pressure hits the neck.
• Go slow indoors first: Short sessions, treats, praise, and patience.
• Watch for stress signals: Flattened ears, crouching, trying to bolt, freezing, or frantic scanning.
• Avoid busy streets: Loud traffic and sudden sounds can overwhelm even confident cats.
• Keep ID and safety up to date: Microchip, vaccinations, and a plan if your cat gets spooked.

The main rule: your cat gets a vote. If they’re not into it, the best “outdoor adventure” might be a secure balcony, a window perch, or a catio.
Because the goal isn’t to turn your cat into a tiny influencer. The goal is enrichment without risk.

Practical Rome Tips for a Smooth Post-Lockdown Trip

Do the boring stuff before you do the fun stuff

• Check entry requirements and travel advisories: Policies and conditions can change; always verify close to departure.
• Reserve major sights: Timed entry can save hours (and prevent “I came all this way to stare at a line” syndrome).
• Plan for security checks: Even “skip-the-line” often means “skip the ticket line, then wait for security.”
• Build in recovery time: A slow lunch isn’t wasted timeit’s how you stay human in a city that can overwhelm your senses.

Health and comfort still matter

Post-lockdown travel is more enjoyable when you treat your body like part of the itinerary: hydrate, take breaks, and keep basic hygiene habits.
Rome will still be Rome if you sit down for ten minutes. (And honestly, sitting down is practically a Roman tradition.)

Why the Cat Illustrations Worked (Even More Than Photos)

The cat became my emotional translator. When I felt awkward being “back out there,” she walked confidently across the page.
When I felt small next to ancient buildings, she reminded me that small doesn’t mean insignificant.
And when I felt tempted to rush, she forced me to pausebecause you can’t draw a cat well if you don’t actually look.

That’s the quiet gift of creative travel: it turns sightseeing into noticing, and noticing into memory.
You leave with more than pictures. You leave with stories you can feel in your hands.

Conclusion: Rome, AgainOne Paw Print at a Time

If you’re returning to travel after lockdown and it feels emotional, messy, or unexpectedly tenderwelcome to being a person.
Rome is the perfect place to practice re-entry because it invites you to slow down, look closer, and let wonder do its job.

And if you need a gentle way to explore again, try giving yourself a tiny creative mission:
sketch one doorway, write one paragraph, collect one funny sign, draw one imaginary cat crossing one real Roman street.
The city will meet you where you are.

Extra: of Post-Lockdown Rome Sketching Memories

The morning I started Illustration #1, I sat on a low wall with my sketchbook balanced like a wobbly cafeteria tray. I told myself I’d draw for five minutes.
Five minutes turned into twenty, partly because the light kept changing and partly because I forgot how soothing it is to do one thing at a time.
A street cleaner rolled past with the calm focus of someone who has seen everything, and a couple walked by arguing softly about whether today was a “museum day” or a
“wander until we get hungry day.” (Correct answer: both.)

Later, I tried sketching near a fountain and discovered a universal law: water attracts humans the way cardboard attracts cats.
People formed an orbitsome taking photos, some just staring, some doing that thing where they pretend they aren’t tired while absolutely being tired.
In my drawing, my cat sat at the edge like a tiny supervisor, judging the coin tosses. I imagined her thinking, “You’re all paying for luck? Interesting.
I simply scream near a cabinet until the universe gives me snacks.”

The most surprising part of drawing in Rome wasn’t the architecture. It was the feeling of being gently pulled into the present by strangers.
Someone would pause and ask what I was drawing. A barista would lean out of a doorway to see. A kid would point and smile.
None of it felt intrusive; it felt like permission. Like the city was saying, “Yes, you can be here again. Yes, you can take up space again.”

One afternoon, I made the mistake of planning too muchthree landmarks, one museum, a “quick” detour, and dinner at a place I’d saved on my phone.
By 4 p.m. I was cranky in the specific way only walking-on-cobblestones cranky can produce. So I did the most responsible thing possible:
I sat down and drew my cat in a quiet side street, loafed up like a warm bread roll. The street wasn’t famous. It didn’t need to be.
The illustration became my favorite because it captured the real victory of returning to the world: not checking boxes, but finding calm in the middle of motion.

On my last evening, I climbed to a viewpoint and watched the city soften into twilight. Domes and rooftops stacked into the distance like layered theater sets.
I drew my cat standing at the edge of the page, tail up, as if she was about to lead me down into the streets again. It felt like closure, but not the sad kind.
More like a promise: that I could carry Rome homenot as a perfect itinerary, but as a feeling I could revisit whenever life got too fast.