The 5 am club

—Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor
“Rome is in my veins. Its energy courses through my blood. And its unique
type of magic resets my spirit,” thought the billionaire as his jet taxied along
the tarmac of that city’s private airport. The song “Magnolia” by Italian music
group Negrita pulsed through the speakers of the aircraft as the tycoon
swayed his taut shoulders to the beat.
“The fierce pride, fantastic passions and glorious hearts of the Romans
inspire me so much,” he affirmed to himself. “The way the light falls on
Trinità dei Monti, the church that crowns the Spanish Steps, never fails to lift
my soul—and often brings tears into my eyes. The exquisite food, including
the mozzarella di bufala, cacio e pepe, amatriciana and carbonara along with
the fire-cooked abbacchio, feeds my desire to maximize the enjoyment of my
life. And the painstakingly handcrafted architecture in this open-air museum
of a city, where I love to walk in the rain, speaks to both the warrior as well as
the poet within me,” the magnate reflected as his jet neared the gate.
The billionaire had spent many of the finest years of his fantastic though
far from perfect life in Rome, staying at an apartment in the historical center
on Via Vittoria. Zurich and his other homes were the places he’d go mostly to
work on projects and manage his global commercial pursuits. But Rome,
well, Rome was to fuel his sense of awe. And to nourish his appetite for joy.
Inhaling the fragrance of gardenias at springtime and taking long treks
past the temple that sits at the lake in the park called Villa Borghese were two
of his favorite things in life. Rising at 5
AM, 
before Rome’s dense traffic could
stifle some of its magnificence, and riding his mountain bike past the Trevi
Fountain, up to Monti and by the Colosseum, and finally over to Piazza
Navona to just sit and embrace the marvelousness of the church in that
exalted square, reminded him of the brilliance that only early morning brings.
Much more than his wealth, such experiences made him feel prosperous. And
alive.

---

You should know that the greatest love of his life hailed from Rome. The
billionaire met her in an English bookstore just off Via dei Condotti, the
fabulous street where Italy’s iconic fashion houses have their flagship stores.
Though he was in his late thirties, the titan was still a bachelor at that first
encounter, something of a playboy and a man known for his taste in the finer
pleasures of the world. He still remembered the book he sought her help to
find: 
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
by Richard Bach, that wonderfully
transformational novel about a seagull who knew he was made to fly higher
than the flock and embarked on an unforgettable journey to make that inner
knowing real.
Vanessa put her hands on a copy quickly, was exceedingly polite yet
frustratingly aloof and then moved on to help another customer.
It took the billionaire over a year of visiting that cramped bookshop with
books arranged on old wooden shelves that lined the timeworn walls for this
young woman to agree to have dinner with him. The billionaire’s quest was
driven by her under-the-radar kind of beauty, her ardent intelligence, her
bohemian personal style and her awkward laugh that made him feel as happy
as a family of bees in a huge honey pot.
They were married in the enchanting seaside town of Monopoli, in the
southern Italian region of Puglia.
“What a special day that was,” the baron mused wistfully. “The music that
rang through the main square as we all danced with wild abandon under the
melting glow of a full moon. The farm-fresh burrata cheese, the orecchiette
pasta made by the chef’s grandmother. The townspeople joining the lively