I went to Rome specifically to see the Sistine Chapel and having accomplished that, I didn’t really have much interest in the rest of Rome. But the Colosseum was only two stops up from my villa on the metro, or half a dozen tram stops so I thought I’d pop up and see it.
What a good idea that turned out to be! I’m not really interested in the Romans, despite being named after one of them, I’m definitely more into the Vikings, but I think it would be impossible not to like the Colosseum. It’s just so big and so intact – well, no. It’s not intact. But there’s a lot left and like a lot of ruins, I suspect the remains are more interesting and more romantic than the whole thing might have been.
I didn’t go inside, the queues were too long and one of my directors told me when I got back that the hack is to go down to the Forum, buy your joint ticket there and then go straight to the front of the queue back at the Colosseum. If I’d thought about it, I’d probably have booked tickets online or maybe gone for the Forum tickets and I’ll definitely go inside if I ever find myself back in Rome. But just walking around the outside was plenty for me.
It made me wonder – why is it still here? Why did they leave it here? Did they leave it here? Did the Romans go somewhere? I’ve already said I’m not good on this period of history but didn’t those Romans just gradually become today’s Italians? It’s not like the Vikings in England, who eventually returned to Scandinavia. It’s like the Vikings in Scandinavia. They didn’t go anywhere, they just gradually became today’s Norwegians, Danes and Swedes. The Colosseum would have aged, mostly abandoned as the centuries went by, just a big stone amphitheatre we don’t use anymore, too expensive and time-consuming to pull down, that old thing? Yeah, my great-great grandad remembered they used it for gladiator fights when he was young but now it’s just lying around Rome getting in everyone’s way.
I don’t know at what point it stopped being a crumbling abandoned building and started being a beloved ancient monument. Pulling it down today is unthinkable. One hundred years ago? Five hundred years ago? One thousand years ago?
I’m glad it survived. I like it. It’s just so big and you can’t really, truly, comprehend how big it was with so much of the upper levels gone. I walked around it, trying to picture it as the Wembley of its day, trying to imagine Taylor Swift’s reputation stadium tour in there, like it was in Wembley this time last year. If I’m ever a famous musician (unlikely; my only real musical ability is with the larger recorders) or a comedian (also unlikely) or end up the sort of famous that can put on arena shows, I’m definitely playing Rome Colosseum. Other venues on my Imaginary European Tour are yet to be decided. Oh, Kerið crater in Iceland. That one’s got an existing record as a venue. Hrossaborg would be amazing too but that’s a bit more remote and it’s pretty boggy in the middle. Let me know if you can think of any other European venues for this tour.
What I didn’t like about the Colosseum was the sheer number of people trying to sell you things. Entrance tickets, fair enough – although if you’ve seen me refuse three people in fifteen seconds, why do you think you’re going to win me over. The people selling rain ponchos and umbrellas – I admit, I was a target, in a t-shirt and skirt, the only person in Rome with no rain protection. But a rainstorm feels so much longer if you have to spend it fending off overzealous sellers. When the rain stopped, the ponchos and umbrellas vanished into thin air and selfie sticks and charger blocks appeared. All kind of annoying.
But not as annoying as the men from Senegal who get your attention with a cry of “Africa?!” and when you stop like an idiot to say either “how did you know?” (work) or “No, I’m the least African person in this city”, they get bracelets on you even know they’ve got your hand and then demand presents in return. This was the only time I was glad I still hadn’t found an ATM in this city (seriously, Rome. Cards are the way forward. Can’t you at least take them in your travel ticket machines?” because I could get out and open up my wallet and show them I literally have nothing. I have about 30 cents in coins and old receipts in my paper section. I quietly admit to smiling at the look of disgust that got, and then my presents were snatched back. Sorry, I was also deeply frustrated at not having any money.
After getting drenched in the morning I came back at night to see what it looked like lit up. Of course it was going to be lit up. What I discovered was that I can take great selfies at the Colosseum at night but I have a choice of it or me being visible in those selfies, never both at once. It was a lot quieter, all the sellers and gifters had gone, the queues had gone, the majority of the crowds had gone. You could see inside better without people in there to see through and round the back, I discovered a private event was going on. I don’t know much but I could hear music and voices and see a glimpse of flames; candles rather than a rerun of Nero’s imperiality.
At that time of night, the tram timetable slowed right down and I had to stand on the little platform for more than forty minutes before I could go home. The metro would have been easier but I’m more a tram girl than a subway girl. Better views, especially across the Palatine Hill and the ruins that stretch as far as the Circo Massimo, the old chariot arena.
I enjoyed the Colosseum the next day too, while waiting for a tram further up the street. You’re just going about your day and this huge ancient hulk is just casually sitting at the end of the road. Of course it is. It’s been there forever, or close enough.