We find ourselves in unprecedented times. It has been disconcerting and saddening to see empty squares and shuttered streets around the world, and our hearts go out to all those affected, wherever they are.

For a while, we may all need to stay grounded. One day, piazzas will fill with selfie-takers again and bistros will brim with animated chatter.

While we wait, we reflect on what draws us to the places we love.

I moved to Rome at 18 to be an au-pair. I chose it because it happened to be where the family lived who replied first to my job application. My Italian vocabulary consisted solely of the names of my favourite pizzas. I’d never been to Rome before. 

Once I’d settled in I found myself with hours to spare each day while the children were at nursery school, so I spent them walking around the city. Choosing roads at random, I often got lost and ended up back where I’d started, but I always began my walk in Piazza del Popolo. This is the route I love the most and retrace every time I return.

Standing in the shadow of the towering obelisque in the centre of Piazza del Popol, guarded forever by four stone lions, I’d set off towards the two almost identical baroque churches (Santa Maria dei Miracoli and her twin sister, Santa Maria in Montesanto) which stand either side of the entrance to Via del Corso. This street is one of the main arteries of the city, usually packed with people and infused with the aroma from the roast chestnut stands. I’d turn off to the left and keep going until I reached the gift-wrapped shop windows of Prada and Gucci on Via del Babuino, light bouncing off them like baubles on a Christmas tree.

Tucked away on this street is the entrance to Via Margutta, a turning you’ll miss if you’re not paying attention. Around the corner stretches a long cobbled street cloaked in greenery, pungent with the smell of jasmine throughout the summer. A plaque on the wall of a sunbaked palazzo boasts that Pablo Picasso once lived here and I always picture him, paintbrush poised in the air, distracted for a moment by the clatter of pans preparing lunch somewhere nearby.

At the end of this road is the iconic Piazza di Spagna, whose steps Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck ran up and down in Roman Holiday. At the bottom of them is the Keats Shelley House museum where John Keats died at just 25, his bedroom kept as he left it, as though waiting for him to come home.

It may be called The Eternal City thanks to the Colosseum and the Forum which have stood stoically throughout 2,500 years of storms, wars and disaster, but I see the enduring spirit of Rome everywhere. It is a city which insists on keeping things just as they are, just as you remember them. Thanks to strict city planning regulations and the inability to dig more than five metres into the ground without unearthing Caesar’s potting shed, it is a city that is proud of its past and wants you to remember it, like a half-read book waiting to be picked back up again every time you return.

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• Annabelle and the global residential team are available remotely for any questions about the market or to simply share stories about their beloved locations.