Discovering Anzio

From Ancient Rome to Modern Charm:

Discovering Anzio

Discovering Anzio is a bit like exploring a box of heirlooms—layers of history, a few surprises, and the odd item that makes you wonder why it’s not more celebrated.

Our journey began, as all great adventures do, with a mild dose of chaos. By the time we landed at Fiumicino airport, the clock was pushing 8 PM, and we embarked on the universal travel rite of passage: finding the rental car. A fruitless expedition through multi-storey car parks later, we discovered that the rental company wasn’t at the airport at all but in the nearby town of Fiumicino. Naturally, the last shuttle bus had departed, leaving us stranded like weary explorers. With a dash of ingenuity (and a friendly taxi driver), we eventually hit the road, heading toward Anzio in a darkness that was both literal and figurative.

A Town of Roman Intrigue

Back in the day, Anzio was called Antium, a name that reeks of gravitas and empire. Cicero chilled here post-exile, presumably taking advantage of the local Wi-Fi to back up his scrolls. Emperors Caligula and his nephew Nero were also born here, though given their reputations, the town doesn’t brag about it much.

These days, Anzio has swapped its laurel crowns for a more understated seaside vibe, catering largely to middle-class Roman families. Its sandy beach, shielded by chunky breakwater boulders, is lined with houses in soft yellows, dusky salmons, and faded reds. Wind-battered palm trees sway lazily along the south-facing promenade, named after antifascist Vittorio Mallozzi. A reminder, that even sleepy coastal towns can have a strong moral compass.

Seafood and Serendipity

By the time we set out in search of dinner, the streets were almost unnervingly quiet—April, it seems, is not peak season. Luck (or perhaps Fortuna herself) led us to Ristorante al Sarago, where the owner greeted us like long-lost friends. Beneath the hum of fluorescent lights in a large, empty dining room, we were treated to an unapologetic seafood feast: prawns, lobsters, mussels, clams, squid, calamari, and a variety of blue and white fish both raw and cooked. It was indulgent, extravagant, and deeply satisfying—a pattern that would repeat itself during our stay.

The active fishing harbour in the centre of Anzio adds colour to an otherwise ordinary seaside scene

The Pier with a Papal Backstory

Anzio’s Innocenziano pier owes its existence to a quirk of history and a cardinal with a surprising sense of gratitude. In 1691, Cardinal Antonio Pignatelli sought refuge here during a violent storm. So impressed was he by the hospitality of the townspeople that, after becoming Pope Innocent XII later that year, he made good on a promise to build them a harbour. In return the people of Anzio commissioned a bronze statue of Pope Innocent with remarkably long fingers XII. He is pointing out from the square that connects the Church of San Pio and Antonio with the port.

The next morning, we wandered to the pier, where fishermen in neon-orange and yellow rubber trousers were mending nets and unloading catches from their blue boats. Folding tables groaned under the weight of the day’s haul: spiky whelks, haddock, catfish, and orate, sold with the kind of vigorous haggling that could pass for a local sport. Watching this spectacle unfold, it was easy to imagine Anzio as a place untouched by time. But it only lasted until someone’s mobile phone shattered the illusion.

The Innocenziano Pier – now lined with restaurants – has played an important role in the history of Anzio

A Beachhead Steeped in History

History has a habit of showing up uninvited in Anzio. The Allied landings of 1944 transformed the town into a strategic hub in the campaign to capture Rome. The Innocenziano pier became a logistical lifeline, accommodating the arrival of troops and supplies. But Anzio’s strategic value came at a cost: German bombardments devastated much of the town, leaving scars that remain visible in its architecture and its history.

Not all of the town’s faded glory can be pinned on war, though. The once-grand Art Nouveau casino Paradiso sul Mare, used as Allied headquarters during the conflict, eventually succumbed to neglect. Today, it survives as a film set, lending its faded beauty to classic Italian films like Amarcord by Fellini and Polvere di stelle by Sordi.

Fortune, Always at the Helm

Anzio is a town that balances precariously between triumph and calamity, its fortunes often dictated by external forces as much as its own resolve. It’s perhaps no surprise that the Roman poet Horace dedicated his his Ode I.35 to Fortuna, the goddess of Antium, in 23 BC. In Anzio, she still seems to wield considerable influence—though thankfully, she’s a little more generous with the seafood these days.