Rome: We came. We saw. We’re exhausted!

Buongiorno from Roma! Our last stop on this amazing experience! Beware: This post is almost as long as Roman history itself. I find it fitting that we ended just where we began, exactly 17 years ago - give or take a day or two. On June 11th, 2005, Kip and I got married and headed for a whirlwind honeymoon tour of Italy, ending in Rome. Here we are 6,205 days later, 4 children, and a boatload of adventures under our belts. I happened to find these gems from 2005 and before the invention of the selfie.

Rome was actually an afterthought. However, these past two years, in his uber-studiousness, Liam has become enthralled with Roman history, culture, mythology, and language. He took part in Latin competitions throughout this past school year and is consistently brushing up on all things Rome. So, when we realized the plane tickets from Valencia to Rome were $38 each, we couldn't pass up this capstone experience.

Our first stop wasn't the Colosseum or the Trevi Fountain. Those come later. Instead, it was a mad dash for Italian food. We hadn't even officially checked into our apartment. We dropped off the bags and stumbled upon Antica Hostaria Romanesca in the Piazza Campo de' Fiore where the people-watching is as good as (well, not quite) the food. Heaven is focaccia bread, wood-fired pizza, and homemade pasta. As Frederico Fellini said, "Life is a combination of magic and pasta."

Clearly, Rome is old. Ancient. But, you already knew that. Despite its history, Rome just feels old. It seems as though the soot from the history of the whole world clings to its buildings and streets casting a dull grey hue to everything it touches. Compared to the vibrant energy of Spain's color palette, Rome's grey oozes dignity, stoicism, and a hint of indifference. Like a disheveled old man who has seen a lifetime and no longer cares what people think, Rome is what it is, and makes no excuses or small talk. You don't like the trash on its streets? So what? You don't like the brusque taxi driver who zooms you through red lights? What's the problem? Rome's unadulterated honesty is its charm. They've been here too long to care.

Our two-bedroom apartment, only a cobblestone's throw away from central Campo de' Fiore, allowed us to navigate Rome almost entirely on foot. We might need new pairs of feet, however. Down the tiny street of Via dei Cappellari, the uneven surface of stones worn by thousands of years of feet led us to where we laid our heads for the last 5 nights. As we came upon our door, Gaelan remarked, "Hm. I've seen prettier entrances." He's not wrong. However, once inside, it opened up to a bright apartment, albeit small, and unwieldy in its organization.

Best of all, it had a chess board but I don't think we've found the next Bobby Fischer yet.

Ah, where to begin our exploration? Simply a walk will do and ancient gems appear out of thin air. Corinthian columns here. The remains of a Roman amphitheater there. Even the sewer grates display the letters SPQR (Senātus Populusque Rōmānus) which refer to the government of ancient Rome. The juxtapositions are startling as old ruins stand tall next to a Bubble Tea stand. In America, we casually pass by a Target or older still, a 7-11! Romans pass by the Pantheon. On our walk to find ice cream, the narrow street opened up into a piazza and the triangular pediment of the Pantheon unexpectantly came into full view, taking my breath away. Completed in 128 A.D. under Emperor Hadrian, the Pantheon is derived from the Greek words, "pan" and "theos" meaning "all Gods" and was thought to be a temple for the worship of the Roman gods. As the most well-preserved monument of ancient Rome, the most remarkable of its features is the dome with a 27-foot open-air oculus that allows light and rain to come through the roof. It is said that at midnight during the spring equinox, the moon shines directly through the oculus. The ingenuity and mathematics that went into creating this dome are overwhelmingly mind-blowing. To lighten the weight of the dome, five rows of coffers or niches were carved out all the while managing to keep a beautiful design aesthetic. Furthermore, the architects, possibly Apollodorus of Damascus, did not employ any internal support structure and instead used a mixture of volcanic ash, pumice, and concrete to create the freestanding dome. To ease the pressure, the material used was heavier and thicker near the bottom and progressively lighter and thinner toward the top. In the early 1500s, when Michaelangelo first saw the dome, he looked up and said, "It is the work of angels, not men." This "pagan" building is still standing for only one reason. In 609 AD, the Pantheon was claimed by the Catholic church, stripping the pagan statues of Venus and Mars and replacing them with Catholic iconography. As a newly remodeled Christian church, it left the upkeep and repair to the largest coffers on the globe.

This city resides alongside the infamous Tiber River where Romulus and Remus were set adrift and suckled by a she-wolf. A short walk to the Piazza Navona has you marveling at the enormous Bernini sculpture representing the four most important rivers in places where Christianity had begun to spread: The Nile, Danube, the Ganges, and Rio de la Plata. Look skyward to see the fully intact Egyptian obelisk unearthed from the ancient Roman Temple of Isis. Further on, you can't miss the wedding-cake-style monument to Italy's first King, Vittorio Emanuele II, with the statue of winged Nike riding a chariot that proudly graces the top. Even the water fountains sporadically placed throughout the city still carry fresh, cold water by Roman aqueducts. Rome has more history than I know what to do with. On one of my morning walks, I came upon a sunken square in the middle of a large intersection. Passersby walked in buttondown shirts and ties, carrying briefcases, checking their phones, seemingly unaware of the ancient ruin that was literally two stories below their feet. As luck would have it, I knew exactly what it was only because I'd researched it the day before: The Piazza Largo di Torre Argentina. It was the site of the Theatre of Pompey and the temporary senate house where Julius Caesar was assassinated on the 15th of March, 44 B.C.E. In a plot to overthrow Caesar for fear of his tyrannical rule, he was stabbed 23 times by senators and friends. For quite some time I stood there silently, looking down at history, under the layers and layers of soil that make up the millennia, like a large pan of lasagna, and tried to imagine the scene fully. It is haunting. On the bright side, currently, this spot also serves another purpose. Approximately 250 feral cats call it home, skulking around these hallowed grounds and mingling with the ghost of Caesar. The cat ladies of Rome have designated it a no-kill shelter, possibly paying homage to the original murder here, pleading, "No more bloodshed."

On one of our outings through Rome, Liam observed, "I've never seen so many men in black suits." I didn't think it was that odd myself but he quickly clarified. "I mean, all black. Black shirts too." Oh! Clearly, I'm a lapsed Catholic when my 13-year-old doesn't recognize the clerical clothes of a priest. In Rome, the center of Catholicism, they were as prevalent as tourists. Groups of nuns dragging suitcases, presumably on their pilgrimage to Rome. Seminarians taking classes and full-fledged priests walking past the ever-present clanging of church bells.

Life and death, sinners and salvation. There's a theme in Rome that you just can't quite shake. It's everywhere you look. We decided to embrace it fully with our own Italian version of el Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead).

We hopped in a cab for a 10-minute ride on the famous Appian Way. This road, built in 312 B.C.E., spans 350 miles from the Roman Forum to modern-day Brindisi, Italy, and was a crucial trade route, especially with Greece. Not surprisingly, this 2,000-year-old road is in better condition than most of the roads in Baltimore. It is most famous for being the site of the crucifixion of more than 6,000 slaves during the slave revolt in 73 B.C.E. led by Spartacus. Prominent senator, Marcus Licinius Crassus, raised an army to quell the revolt and for 130 kilometers the Appian Way was lined with the crucified bodies of slaves to prove a point, discouraging further uprisings. I would imagine that would send the message loud and clear as you enter or leave Rome.

Upon entering the grounds of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, you feel very far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Large gardens and cypress trees welcome you and you'd never know that half a million Christians were buried under your feet. These catacombs are the largest and most important in Rome. Occupying the size of 90 football fields, four levels of tombs make up this network approximately 20 meters deep and 12 miles long. Rectangular slots in the wall in varying sizes housed the dead. As a mother, the sheer number of very small slots was the most disturbing to me as the infant mortality rate was so high in ancient Rome. Approximately 1/3 of all babies didn't make it to their first birthday. Aptly given the nickname, "Little Vatican," St. Callixtus was also the resting place of 16 popes and 30 Christian martyrs, most notably, St. Cecelia.

Photo credit: www.ColiseumRometickets.com

Photo credit: www.tíquets.com

Photo credit: www.italyxp.com

Continuing our sinners and salvation tour, we had the taxi drop us off at the Capuchin Crypt for a more gruesome experience. Sheepishly, I have to admit that when I first heard of it, I thought we might see the bones of monkeys. Between 1528 and 1870, a sect of monks called the Capuchin decided to "decorate" this crypt with the bones of 4,000 of their fellow brothers. When a monk died, he was buried in a Christian cemetery for 30 years, apparently the time it takes for the flesh to rot off the bones. After those 30 years, the body was exhumed, taken apart, and used to create intricate bone designs on the walls and ceilings, even making the chandeliers from the bones of spinal columns. This "Death Chic" design style is one I hope doesn't go viral. I can't help but envision these monks, sitting on the floor by candlelight with an assortment of bones, making sculptures with Bob's and Joe's parts. If you ever doubt your mortality, a plaque is there to remind you and reads, "We were what you are…you will become what we are now." The attached museum contains all forms of Christian paraphernalia such as crosses, monks' clerical attire, and disturbingly, the tools used for self-flagellation: A whip-like scourge, and cilice, worn to create discomfort in an act of penance. After this experience, my bet is that I'll be spending some money on my kids' therapy later in life.

Photo credit: www.the culture map.com

Photo credit: www.oddviser.com

Photo credit: www.bizarreglobetrotter.com

Back in the land of the living, we breathed fresh air and joined the rest of the world at the Spanish Steps. Ironically, the funding for the Spanish Steps was donated by a Frenchman. At the bottom of the 135-stepped staircase, is an odd little Baroque sculpture of a sunken boat. Bernini is responsible for the design, getting his inspiration from the 1598 flood that carried a boat from the overflowing Tiber to the Piazza di Spagna. When the water receded, the boat remained.

We ambled toward Via Margutti to get a slice of residential quiet in the city and to see the site of Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn's apartment in the film, Roman Holiday. Along our way, we even scooted by a runway show about to start in our fashionable tennis shoes and shorts. Very Italian!

For even the most staunch atheist, it is sacrilege to visit Rome without laying eyes on St. Peter's Basilica. Tickets in hand, we were still required to stand in a 45-minute line for security purposes. This gave me ample time to read aloud a variety of interesting facts about St. Peters. About 20 minutes in, my tongue drying out from exertion, I asked, "Is everyone enjoying this or should I stop reading?" A woman in front of us exclaimed, "Yes, please! Keep reading!" We collected our audio guides and made our way inside, stopping just over the threshold to gaze in wonder at the sheer scale and architectural marvel of the basilica while others around us genuflected.

St. Peter's dwarfs all other cathedrals and to give you an indication of its size, here are some things that can fit inside of it: The Statue of Liberty, The Space Shuttle, The Cinderella Castle at Disney World, The Great Sphinx at Giza, and a Typhoon-Class Russian submarine. It is valued at $11 trillion dollars, which seems a bit low to me. I'll be honest and say that the audio guide was entirely church propaganda. Seeing as how I have my own feelings about the power of the Catholic Church, I really didn't want to be lectured and sold on Catholicism. So, after number 10 on the audio guide card, just as they were comparing God's love to the sweetness of honey, we all took the earbuds out. Instead, we discussed what we were seeing, and why it was important, historically, politically, and religiously. These discussions led to some more honest quandaries about who needs a cathedral this big when the money used could feed the entire world population several times over.

Ah...but then, tucked away in a corner, there is the Pietà, a glorious shining example of Michelangelo‘s artistry. She sits behind a wall of bulletproof glass constructed after a madman attacked her with a hammer in 1972. At 24 years old, Michaelangelo carved the sculpture from a single piece of Carrera marble that he chose himself. He described his artistic process by saying that the stone he chooses already has the sculpture inside. He simply needs to free it. Lifelike and soft, it's hard to come to terms with the fact that this is not draped in actual cloth, but constructed out of stone. This is the only piece of art that Michaelangelo ever signed. According to the story, he hastily scrawled his name on the strap that runs diagonally across Mary's chest after he overheard a visitor mistakenly give the credit for the Pietà to a rival sculptor.

One of the last nights of our trip called for a night on the town. Dinner at Origano for...what else...pizza and pasta, and a walk around the warmly lit streets of Roma, buying a souvenir or two and enjoying the fact that the sun was no longer a blazing orb in the sky. We made it to the ungodly popular Trevi fountain to ceremoniously throw our coins. Seventeen years ago when Kip and I threw our coins in the Trevi fountain, ensuring our return to Rome, it seemed to work. This time, the kids all had a go.

Initially designed by the very busy Bernini, the statue is 30 meters high and depicts the god Neptune being driven to the sea on a chariot pulled by a pair of winged horses. One horse is placid while the other bucks and rears up in revolt, symbolizing the moodiness of the sea. Neptune is flanked by the gods of Abundance and Health.

The Pantheon at night is a sight to behold and Rome by night has a magical appeal that masks some of the underlying grit that you see in the daytime. Piazzas are full of drinkers and diners, artists, and gestured conversation.

We saved the best for last. Months ago, I booked a 3-hour tour of the Roman Forum and Colosseum, including the underground where the animals and gladiators were kept. I was very much aware that it's a long time for kids to be in the heat with little legs and I was hoping that the entertainment factor might surpass the discomfort. I'm a review reader and of the 300 comments, I noticed two tour guides whose names came up regularly. Gigi and Francesco. The night before our tour, I told Kip, "I'd just be happy if we got either of those two." We showed up at the tour location and met our guide. "My name is Gianluigi," he said. "But you can call me Gigi." Simultaneously and nerdily, Kip and I pumped our fists in the air. Gigi, a passionate historian with a Ph.D. in Archaeology from UCLA, started us off and began our journey through ancient Rome. Gigi regaled us with fascinating tidbits about life in Rome as he walked us through the forum, Senate house, and marketplace to see what was left of the center of ancient Roman culture. In the middle of Senate House stood a red Egyptian marble statue of a headless and handless Emperor in the traditional toga. With each new Emperor, and there were many, the ever-inventive Romans simply created a new head and hands to pop onto the statue in the first-ever Mr. Potato Head.

We moved toward the Colosseum and proceeded directly to the underground where a wide assortment of exotic animals were kept in cages, much like the enslaved gladiators who had little choice but to entertain the 80,000-person crowd. Modern mechanisms like elevator systems and trap doors were employed to bring large animals and stage props to the arena floor, creating a spectacle that rivals any modern pop star's concert. In fact, they even flooded the arena floor to reenact a naval battle.

We walked the route of the Gladiator's entrance to the arena, where men met their fate, either dying on the sand or being tossed back into their cages to face another day of fighting. Taking a cue from the Senate house Mr. Potato Head, small gladiator figurines were made with detachable heads. So, if your favorite gladiator was killed, you could replace him with your newest favorite. Rinse and repeat. It was a gore-spilling experience for Romans to watch these games, of which there were many. At one point, there were 100 days in a row of games, extinguishing the life of thousands of men and animals alike, all for the enjoyment of the people as well as for the Emperor to win the love of his fickle citizens.

In fact, the games were always free. A gift from the Emperor to his people. It's easier to pay your taxes if you feel like you're being given something in return. Spectators would receive free water, wine, and a snack as they sat in their seats from dawn to dusk. In a perverse example of the circle of life, the dead gladiators would be served to the live animals and the dead animals would be served to the people for their mid-day meal. Anyone up for Gladiator-fed Hippo-kebabs? While the games were free, like any modern stadium, each citizen was still given a ticket with a specific entrance door, row, and seat. Instead of paper, Romans used thin clay tablets as their entrance ticket before tossing them below the seats. In a recent excavation, thousands of these cracked clay tickets were found. More are still being unearthed.

We headed off to the arena floor where it's said that the blood was so thick, the sand would turn red. I watched Liam throughout much of the tour, nodding his head along with Gigi's facts and stories and I realized how much of this was not new to him. It was, however, an opportunity for him to witness it all in person and see the magnitude of the place itself and use his bright imagination to envision it all in its heyday.

Feel your heart quickening with fear as you walk down the gladiator's entrance. Hear the sound of bloodthirsty hoards of screaming spectators as your feet are rooted to the ground of the arena floor. Imagine the retractable awning that gave coverage from the blistering sun, closing off the light. Smell the chaos and death. Visualize the box where the Emperor sat, and with one flick of his hand, to the right or left, indicate whether a gladiator should live to see another day. It all comes to life here and no book will ever do it justice.

And, we were done. Tired, hot, and ready to go home. We packed our things for the last time and boarded a plane bound for Charlotte. I'll admit that as soon as I touched down on American soil, I started crying. Like, heaving crying. I am incredibly thankful to have had this experience with my family and wouldn't have changed one thing. But, when you've poured your heart and soul into planning something for so long, there is a sense of loss and purposelessness that comes with it. Our kids will not forget this, even Onora. And, if they do, I have written so much of it down and taken so many photographs that my thoughts and images will become reminders for them. I'm writing my final blog post in bed at my home in Baltimore, under a heavy blanket of Covid that has infected my whole family as soon as we arrived home. I couldn't feel more grateful to have gotten it here rather than there! Thank you to those of you who have read my posts, commented, and gotten something out of them all. That's a wrap! Buona Notte.