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It's the click of your heels on inlaid marble, the whisper of 600-count Frette sheets, the murmured "buongiorno" of a coat-tailed porter bowing low as you pass. It's a rustic attic room with wood-beam ceilings, a wrought-iron balcony for your morning cappuccino, a white umbrella on a roof terrace, a 400-year-old palazzo with Casanova's name in the guest book. Maybe it's the birdsong warbling into your room as you swing open French windows to a sun-kissed view of the Colosseum, a time-worn piazza, a flower-filled marketplace. Whatever your Roman holiday hotel fantasy, Audrey Hepburn couldn't have had it better. Dolce Vita, here you come. More »
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