Colosseum

Ancient Ruins: Rome, Italy

Its solitude, its awful beauty, and its utter desolation 

strike upon the stranger like a softened sorrow. - Charles Dickens

I've always been obsessed with anything Greek (see earlier blog on Parthenon) and Roman.

I was schooled in the rescue of Helen from her Trojan captors and in the struggle of Odysseus. 

I knew that in ancient Rome, only free men were allowed to wear togas. 

And that you tossed three euros into Trevi Fountain - the first for coming back to Rome, the second for a new love story, and the third for a wedding.

Having said all this, you may understand why my heart beat faster and my eyes blinked seven times when I saw it.

The most thrilling of Rome's ancient sights.

It looked like its postcard.

The Colosseum.

The sun was high enough to paint the structure with a mixture of light and shadow, highlighting - alas! - its deterioration with time on its deep clefts and ragged openings.

The free-standing oval amphitheatre measured 620 by 513 feet. 

Massive. 

The distinctive exterior had three stories of about 80 arched entrances supported by semi-circular columns.

Inside, the space  was silent and still. 

Empty. 

Strangely, time seemed to fold in upon itself, bringing the past close enough to the present for events to touch, even to overlap. 

Suddenly, I could hear yelling from some 50,000 spectators inside the Colosseum. When I squinted, I saw Russel Crowe (er... no, that was from the Gladiator movie that came out years after) - General Maximus himself. Loyal servant to the true emperor. Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. A slave-turned-gladiator who vowed vengeance in this life or the next.

Waving his arms dramatically, he shouted, Roma victor!  

He began to stride off with the cocksure pose of a man who commanded attention with all the virtues of his motto, Strength and Honour. 

The spectacle that followed was gory and brutal. The audience gasped as swords clashed and heads rolled in the gladiator arena. I had worried Maximus might meet his demise. But then? He emerged victorious. He was super strong like that. I guess he ate his spinach penne pasta.

As the bright light filtered in onto arch above dilapidated arch of the Colosseum, the sound of combat dispersed. 

All that remained was the reality of ghost shadows.

And the gentle hum of time slowly extinguishing itself over a mismatch of elegance and decay.