Hopping off the back of a Vespa driven by a young, handsome Italian, I arrive at my pasta-making class late, flustered and full of apologies.It isn’t exactly the first impression I’d hoped to make on my teacher – particularly because she is a real-life Italian nonna. But I needn’t have worried.Despite not speaking a word of English, Nonna Rosella beams when she sees me, pulls me into a warm hug and plants a kiss on each cheek.Within moments, I have a glass of cold white wine in one hand and a slice of bruschetta in the other, piled high with fresh, juicy tomatoes and drizzled with beautiful Italian olive oil.Any embarrassment about my late entrance immediately disappears.With all four of my grandparents, as well as my two step-grandparents, no longer with us, there is something unexpectedly poignant about being welcomed so enthusiastically by an older woman.For the next few hours, Rosella becomes our temporary grandmother – feeding us, teasing us and stepping in whenever our pasta dough threatens to go disastrously wrong. And mine frequently does.This is 'grandma tourism', a growing travel trend encouraging visitors to swap impersonal sightseeing tours for experiences led by older local residents. Hayley heads to Rome to try 'grandma tourism', the latest travel trend that swaps overcrowded tourist traps for authentic experiences with locals Along with six other aspiring chefs, Hayley quickly gets to grips with pasta-making under Rosella's expert eyeInstead of simply taking a photograph outside a famous landmark and moving on, travellers are learning family recipes, hearing first-hand stories and seeing destinations through the eyes of the people who have spent their lives there.Rosella is one of ten nonnas holding regular pasta-making classes in Rome, available to book through GetYourGuide.Alongside an English-speaking translator, she takes me and six other aspiring chefs – including a child – through two classic Italian dishes: ricotta and spinach-filled ravioli, followed by tagliatelle.As someone who would never describe herself as a natural in the kitchen, I am initially sceptical that anything I make will be edible. Rosella, however, seems completely confident in me.She shows us that fresh pasta requires only flour, egg, a rolling pin and plenty of elbow grease – although, if her method is anything to go by, a huge smile and a generous helping of love are equally essential ingredients.First, we pour flour onto our worktops, create a well in the centre and crack in an egg. Then comes the messy task of gradually working everything together until it begins to resemble dough.Rosella makes every stage look effortless. Her hands move instinctively, helped by years of experience, while the rest of us repeatedly glance around the room to check whether our mixtures look anything like hers. Mine does not. Rosella shows Hayley and her classmates how to make two simple Italian pasta dishes: ricotta and spinach-filled ravioli and tagliatelleSpotting me struggle, she comes over to rescue my dough, kneading and turning it before handing it back with an encouraging smile.There is no shared language between us, but none is really needed. A pointed finger, an exaggerated expression or an affectionate pat on the arm tells me exactly whether I am getting it right.Once our dough has rested, Rosella summons us to the front one by one to feed it through the pasta machine.It is supposedly a lesson, but in her hands it feels more like a performance.She laughs and jokes with each member of the group through the translator, patiently correcting our technique and gently mocking our less successful attempts.She is particularly playful with the two men in our class, greeting them with a mischievous glint in her eye.After repeatedly rolling the dough until it is thin and silky, we divide it in two. Hayley explains how one half of her dough is topped with little mounds of ricotta and spinach filling, covered with another sheet of pasta and then cut into five little ravioli parcelsOne half is topped with little mounds of ricotta and spinach filling, covered with another sheet of pasta and cut into five ravioli parcels.Rosella then teaches us a wonderfully simple trick for making tagliatelle. We slice the remaining dough into thin ribbons, slide a knife underneath them and lift, allowing the strands to tumble down before shaking them loose.It is the sort of technique that looks incredibly impressive but is easy enough to recreate at home – even for me.Once the cooking is finished, Rosella gathers us for photographs, wrapping her arms around us and subjecting me to a surprise attack of tickles.Then we sit down together around a long table to eat our handiwork like one large, slightly chaotic family.The ravioli arrives first, coated in a simple brown butter sauce that allows the creamy filling and fresh pasta to shine. The tagliatelle follows, and both taste far better than I had expected when I first stared down at my unpromising pile of flour and egg. After their lesson with Rosella, Hayley and her classmates sit down together to sample their handiwork. First up: ravioli in a simple brown butter sauceThere is also something particularly satisfying about eating food you have made from scratch under the watchful eye of an Italian grandmother.Rosella observes as we take our first mouthfuls, looking delighted by our reactions. For her, the class does not appear to be only about teaching tourists how to make pasta. It is about passing down a tradition and bringing people together through food.Experiences like this are becoming an increasingly important part of the way people travel.Social media is awash with videos of tourists learning family recipes from Italian nonnas, being shown around cities by lifelong residents and hearing stories that would never appear in a conventional guidebook.According to GetYourGuide, searches for these kinds of activities have risen by 38 per cent, while bookings for workshops and classes increased by more than 250 per cent globally between 2023 and 2025 – significantly outperforming traditional attraction tickets.The appeal is authenticity: the chance to feel, however briefly, as though you are taking part in local life rather than merely observing it.That can be particularly difficult in Rome, one of the most visited cities in the world, where queues form for miles outside the Colosseum and crowds jostle for the perfect photo at the Trevi Fountain.Yet my afternoon with Rosella feels warm and personal.Earlier that day, I had experienced something similar on the Vespa tour that was responsible for my late arrival. In addition to her pasta-making class, Hayley explores some of the lesser known corners of Rome on a Vespa tourI had visited Rome just one year earlier, but travelling through it on the back of a scooter allowed me to see a completely different side of the city.On my first trip, I concentrated on the big hitters: the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps and Vatican Museums.This time, I weave through Rome’s busy streets behind a local driver, heading away from the biggest crowds and climbing into the hills above the city.At Janiculum Hill, we watch the cannon being fired – an extremely loud tradition that takes place at noon every day and dates back to the 19th century, when the blast was used to signal the exact time to Rome’s churches.We are also taken to the Fontana dell’Acqua Paola, a vast marble fountain overlooking the city. It is every bit as dramatic as the Trevi Fountain – but considerably less crowded.From there, Rome stretches out beneath us, its domes and terracotta rooftops glowing in the sun. On the recommendation of her Vespa tour guide, Hayley is also taken to the Fontana dell’Acqua Paola - every bit as dramatic as Rome's Trevi Fountain, but without the crowds Our drivers also give us the sort of recommendations that are difficult to find through a generic online search.They suggest spending the evening in Piazza Trilussa, which comes alive at night with music and street performances, before continuing to Sharivari, a nightclub hidden near the Pantheon.We follow their advice and end up dancing into the early hours – enjoying the sort of lively Roman night I’m sure my mischievous new nonna would approve of.Of course, there is nothing wrong with visiting Rome’s most famous sights. The Colosseum is spectacular, the Vatican Museums are extraordinary and I would never suggest leaving the city without throwing a coin into the Trevi Fountain.But it is the people I remember most vividly from this visit: the local who drove me through the streets on his Vespa, the recommendations shared along the way and, most of all, Nonna Rosella laughing as she tried to salvage my pasta. I leave Rome feeling like I’ve been welcomed into a very dysfunctional Italian family.