Lido di Ostia—Rome’s seaside escape—is a place of contrast. In summer, the Italian coast overflows with Romans and tourists seeking relief from the city’s heat. But during the winter months, I experienced Ostia in a completely different way—quiet, almost deserted, as if in hibernation. On grey, rainy days, the town felt eerily empty. The salty sea air and wind-driven sand stretched through the endless streets and along the five-kilometer promenade, where rows of vacation homes and shuttered hotels hinted at the massive summer crowds that would soon return. Instead of bustling beach life, the cityscape was defined by closed shutters, empty balconies, and the architecture built for mass tourism—a stark contrast to the surrounding towns.