The Gianicolo keeps time for the whole city: every day at noon a cannon fires one blank round from its slope, a ritual begun in 1904 so Rome's church bells could ring together. The hill rises west of the Tiber, above Trastevere, and though it is not counted among the classic seven, it stands higher than most of them. Here in 1849 Garibaldi's volunteers fought French troops to defend the short-lived Roman Republic; the terrace now carries his equestrian statue and a long avenue of stone busts honouring those who fell beside him.
You climb for the panorama. From the balustrade at Piazzale Garibaldi you look straight out over the roofs of the old centre. Domes and bell towers break the line of terracotta tiles, St Peter's dome stands out to the north, and the Alban Hills close off the horizon behind the city. The view is best in the last hour of daylight, when the rooftops shift from ochre to rose and buskers, courting couples and a battered puppet theatre fill the umbrella pines. After dark a slender lighthouse blinks red, white and green above the rooftops.