OMG! What an exciting adventure trying to make my way to my early morning tour at the Colosseum in Rome, Italy.
I woke up early, 5:30 a.m. to make it downstairs by 6:00 am for the hotel's free buffet breakfast of fruit, pastries, vienna sausage, extremely loose scrambled eggs, coffee and orange drink (yes drink not juice). My tour started promptly at 8:00 a.m. and I had a 30 minute commute. So I quickly scoffed down my breakfast and I made my way down Via Tommaso Salvini to catch the 360 Muse bus to the Colosseum.
Well, being new to Rome and unfamiliar with the language proved to be a frightening and exciting experience for me that morning. I inadvertently de-bused at the wrong stop and I was lost. With travel map in hand I quickly tried to navigate my way on foot.
It was early morning and businesses where just getting started for the day. There was a calmness and eeriness that met me as I turned down deserted side street after side street, running through the narrow back alleys as the clock ticked away closer and closer to 8:00 am. By 7:50 I was still wandering aimlessly through Rome with no Colosseum in sight.
After ten minutes of solitude I happened upon two Italian workers unloading groceries through the back doors of hotels and restaurants. I approached to young men unloading fruits and vegetables out of a plain white van. I began speaking English, slowly of course because in my mind if you speak a language slowly anyone can understand it (right?). "Excuse me, do you know which way to the Colosseum is?" "The Col-o-sse-um". I enunciated slowly.
The young italian men looked at me glazed over and confused, not understanding a word I said. I repeated again but to no avail. They shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders dismissing my attempt to make them understand my language and attempted to comforted me with a single universal apologetic word, "NO".
It was now 8:00 and I was no more closer to the Colosseum than I was ten minutes ago.
I decided to give up on trying to communicate with the workers and continue making my way through the streets with nothing but hope on my side. I turned down one narrow street and miraculously came out on a street jammed packed with people. There were guides holding colored flags for their groups to follow and as I broke through their lines I looked up and there it was in all its ancient splendor, about 500 yards ahead on top of a steep hill. By now it was 8:15 and I feared I had missed my tour group which was scheduled to leave promptly at 8:00 from the top of that hill.
I immediately began a track runners sprint up the hill, my thighs crying out for relief after each step. When I reached the top of the hill it was my surprise to see a group standing there. "Estefani?" the tour guide asked. I knodded out of breath and apologized to everyone for my tardiness.
And oh what a tour it was, the Colosseum is a grand arena with intricacies that explain the heart and soul of combat, socialism and architecture dating back to A.D. 80. I was overwhelmed as I looked down on the fighting grounds where gladiators, lions and hundreds of thousands of fans packed over and over again for a sporting event that ended in death.
I am glad I didn't give up and kept pushing to make my way. It was truly a day that I will never forget.
