The Eternal City isn’t really meant to be seen in a day, either. But I was going to try.

I had been in Rome on assignment with Secretary of State John Kerry, seeing the city mostly from a motorcade, glancing at sites from a van window in between stops for press conferences and photo ops. But when Kerry departed for the Middle East, I remained in Rome, tacking on about a day and a half of personal time.

I had no guidebook, had done no planning, and was traveling alone. I had been to Rome as part of a high school trip about 15 years ago, but had forgotten most of what I saw.

Now I was trying to cram some of the world’s richest history into 36 hours. It felt kind of like eating a fine steak in five minutes: The taste is good, but it’d be nice to have more time to savor it.

Ridiculous? Yes. Worth attempting? Absolutely.

I booked a small room at a basic hotel near the Pantheon and a few doors down from Ditta Annibale Gammarelli, a shop that has been the official papal tailor. My room had little more than a bed and a bathroom, but it didn’t matter, not for my mission.

I began, in the early afternoon, at the Pantheon, which I found to be the best place to evoke ancient times (despite the man playing “Tears in Heaven” on his guitar as people ate outdoors nearby). It’s one of the best-preserved Roman buildings, and a place I would return to over and over again, drawn to its grandeur and its history.

Outside there were men dressed as Romans, waving plastic swords and offering to pose for photos. A man dipped his bucket into a fountain outside to gather water for his horses. Couples kissed, water flowed, and there were smells of coffee roasting nearby.

The scope inside the Pantheon is amazing. Even more so is contemplating that it was built nearly 1900 years ago, when power tools were not available. Statues line the walls, there’s an altar up front (in a place that was initially built as a temple for all the gods), and the Renaissance artist Raphael is buried here.

An audio tour was 5 euros ($6.50), but most of this site didn’t need much explaining.

Afterward, I strolled into a nearby cafe. I was walking past a place called ZaZa pizza and stopped to order a slice of parmesan and mozzarella (the servings are done by weight, so you have to indicate how big a piece you want. Then they cut it with scissors and heat it up).

In the late afternoon, I walked across the Tiber River toward the Vatican. It was the day after Pope Benedict XVI resigned, and I was expecting crowds. But by 5 p.m., there was no line and I walked right into St. Peter’s Basilica.

I was quickly drawn to the Pietà on the right, a statue of Mary holding Jesus, which Michelangelo did when he was 23.

It had me thinking about what I was doing at 23, and realizing that whatever it was would not be worthy of display like this.

Most visitors seemed focused on the statue, but looking up while standing there showcases the enormity of the building — how high it goes, how intricate the detail is.

Liturgy was being said at the altar, and the smell of incense grew stronger whileI walked to the front. As the sun began to set, I strolled around outside. One spot I missed was the Sistine Chapel, which was about to be closed for the conclave.

That night I had dinner with a friend and former colleague who had arrived to cover the election of the new pope. After a quick search and a few recommendations, we settled on Renato e Luisa, a cozy spot with a good antipasto and tasty carbonara. Afterward, we had gelato.

The next morning I got started early with a cappuccino at Caffe Tazza D’Oro and a few minutes later, when I passed Gran Caffe La Caffettiera, I couldn’t resist having another.

I went to numerous cafes for fuel. Rome is one of those places where an average cappuccino — like a slice of pizza, or cone of gelato — will taste better than any you’ve had elsewhere.

Plus, cappuccino was the one word that I could say with such gusto that, for a moment, I’m convinced I was seen as a local. But then something else would be said in Italian. I’d just stare ahead blankly and wait for my drink.

(The only other words I used were, “grazie,” or “thank you,” and “scuze,” or “excuse me.”)