A fine nights sleep (after watching a Growing Pains rerun in Italian... Great wine fueled entertainment), and we were up an at em, ready to take the underground to Termini, swap trains, and head two stops east to meet out tour guide at The Arch of Constantine. I queried our front desk host, and heard a phrase that would be repeated in conversations with locals for the rest of our time in Rome and Florence. Ah, this is Italy. Please help me understand how to take the underground to the Arch of Constantine, I asked. My friend, the union is going on strike this morning at 8:30. If you leave for the station, right across the street, in the next ten minutes you will be fine. I am sorry for this, but, Ah, this is Italy. We hurried through our breakfast and hustled to the underground, where half of Rome was trying to stay minutes ahead of the strike. We were 10 deep at the platform when the Termini shuttle screamed in. It was packed. Still, the doors opened and we were swept in with the crowd like it was a Who Concert. We were packed so tight that Im sure in several states I am now considered legally married to at least a dozen Rome citizens that I have never met before. We made Termini and grabbed a cab. We were the first in our eight person group to check in and meet our host for the day, Niccola. Trains are crazy, I said to Nick as we shared a salutary handshake. Guess theres some strike coming? First words out if his mouth, Ah, this is Italy. After introductions with the completed group, we began walking the very stones lain as a road where the masses would cheer on Constantines armys when returning with the spoils of victory over the Barbarians. The rectangles of black marble, smoothed and rounded off from 17 centuries of walking and weather, lacked the polished joinery that the citizens enjoyed in the fourth century, but they were still the very stones that the Emperor who brought Christendom to Rome, walked upon. We walked The Colosseum. Colosseum is the name that has been associated with the iconic structure for centuries, but it was called Amphitheatrum Flavium when it was built in the first century. It only later become known as The Colosseum because of its proximity to Neros Colossus, a giant bronze statue of 1st century Emperor which was modified to be the sun god Solis by subsequent Emperors, and moved to a courtyard adjacent to Amphitheatrum Flavium. It became a meeting place for where Romans would gather before the twelve hour shows, featured at the Amphitheater. Long after the Colossus had fallen, meet me at the Colossus became the basis of the name by which we today call the great Stadium. What we see of the building today, is but a skeleton, the brick and mortar, that supported great blocks of marble on the once highly polished stadium. For centuries it stood until a1349 earthquake caused damage enough that marble was stripped from the building and used in other parts of Rome. The face stone of St Peters Basilica, for instance, is covered in marble that once finished the outside of The Colosseum. We walked some nine miles that day. It was, as planned, our only full day in Rome. The tour proved not only an excellent way to see the highlights of this ancient city, but also, because of the requirement that all licensed guides must first earn four year degrees in the history and antiquities of the city, the tour was educational gold. Niccola taught us every step of the way, with insight and humor (next we will go to the forum, and look at a lot of rocks), he educated us on politics, religious influence, corruption and scandal...we not only saw Ancient Romes ruins, we stepped into its life as if it were today. The Colosseum, The Forum, the Vatican Museums, the Sistine Chapel, St. Peters Basilica, and 18,000 plus steps (someone had a counter, really!) went by in what seemed like an hour. But it was not an hour; it was nine. And as we parted company with our new friends, the fantasy of the lessons faded, replaced by the reality of sore legs and tired backs. We had asked Nicolla for a recommendation of somewhere off the beaten path. He directed us to a street, an uphill 15 minute walk, where he said few tourists go. We felt as though we were finishing a marathon. But soon, sitting beneath an umbrella, we soothed aches and pains with pesto and wine. A thunderstorm rolled over the city. It rained hard. Our umbrella kept us dry. The tall buildings of the narrow street kept the air in the area still, while the street-length slit of a viewing area above us churned in the storm. An electric light show boomed overhead. Clouds boiled in a tumultuous sky. Flashes of light revealed bubbling grays, and predicted thunderous crashes. The staff of the restaurant scrambled to pick up umbrellas and bring in tables and chairs. Our waiter asked us if we wanted to come in out of the rain, and looked at us as if we were crazy when we said no. We sat under our umbrella, laughing, drinking, and falling in love again. Our eyes danced with the thunder. The staff and other outside patrons stood just inside the open building facade, watching us enjoy the storm. They looked perplexed. I had heard, several times throughout the day, Ah, this is Italy. It made me ponder how things that are so common to some, are so foreign to others. We enjoyed that storm for an hour. Somewhere from the crowed of perplexed onlookers huddled at the storefront, awaiting relief from the weather, Im certain I heard someone say, Ah, they are Americans.
Posted on: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 03:49:59 +0000
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