Week 1

Reflection on the Colosseum

Out of the heat and crowds, separate from chatter and confusion, the Colosseum or "Flavian Amphitheatre" stands proud and unafraid against the horizon of awed tourists and residents alike. I was one of many students that day, who breathed their first breath of fresh air after our journey underground, though my breath halted halfway, and my heart skidded to a stop. Finally, a piece of history within sight. Within reach, and what luck that my Professor started toward the building, directing us all past a line of traveler's who couldn't possibly be enjoying the sight of the Colosseum when distracted by the hustle of the streets, the chit-chat between themselves, or the headphones inserted into their ears. Nothing could distract me in this moment. Finally, I was here.
A passport is just a passport until it allows access to places only dreamed about. A plane is just another plane until the sensation of taking off into the air. A van is only transportation until it delivers to a long-awaited destination. A tour is just a lecture while walking...until the guide says: "Take a seat on one of these original columns," and then precedes to give me the history lesson of a lifetime. I've heard the stories before, I know the history, I thought I knew the Colosseum - but to stand in the midst of history, to touch and feel the cold stone that was once covered by marble, or to climb the stairs and feel the burn in my calves that others-- far before my ancestors-- felt as well...well, that's the Rome Experience.
Disappointment is there of course. After all, shoving aside years of history classes, TV programs, and Hollywood movies makes it difficult to imagine the Colosseum as anything but the ruins of a colossal building. Stairs and seating have withered away, marble stripped, statues and columns broken and repositioned elsewhere, moved and seemingly forgotten. Some tourists even push their garbage into the cracks and crevices that use to anchor marble slabs by iron rods. And yet, the arches welcome tourists and historians, inviting them to forget the skeleton of the ancient building, and instead see themselves as one of those enjoying a show in the heart of the city.
A book by the name of "The Italians" analyzes the different types of people who visit sites such as these, and what may or may not change in them upon seeing such sights. Luigi Barzini insists that there are certain things that people have in mind when they venture to new places, in particular, Italy. The food, the people, the sights, for example. By the standards of Barzini, I may be in Italy, enjoying the sights of the Colosseum and Roman forum, merely to complete my education. Or perhaps self-completion is my motive. Not merely for education's sake, but for my life in general. Will this be something to cross off my list of things to do before - or will this be one of many trips to this Ancient City? Is this a beginning or an end, in other words? Barzini may not have asked all of these questions in his book, but he certainly had me thinking them. Where do I fit, in the grand scheme of things. What is my purpose. It seems silly, perhaps, taken out of context. However, passing through the arches of the Colosseum, or later when I visited the Roman Forum and heard how Temples were converted and transformed into churches and senate buildings, I wondered what would change from my life in the next thousands of years. I wondered if there would be a memory of me, or if not, would there be someone like myself, years from now, who wondered about who may have passed the same roads which I once walked.
As far as what type of traveler I am, I am still deciding. Either for education's sake, or self-completion, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps both. I prefer to walk as one who lived here then, when ancient was present, and the ruins were new. Ignoring the tourists, forgetting the disrespect of history, I try to place myself then and there. I see the podium clearly, behind the olive and fig trees in the Roman Forum. I hear the echo of philosophy that wasn't quite paid much attention too even then. I respect the temples and the gods for what they mean to society and the people, and I am terrified of the change that comes with new rulers and buildings, floods and destruction. As I look at history in this way, I feel complete. I feel as if my education has been lifted to a new level, and the following years will expect more of me.
The Colosseum has been my beginning. Awe and disappointment, grief as well as joy. I am still learning, still seeing. I am not at my end, not quite yet.