Natale di Roma

This week, Rome officially celebrates her birthday, with 2,763 years ad urbe condita. If those last three words mean nothing to you, grab a copy of Livy and start brushing up on the last two and more millennia of Roman history. As a tour guide, I finally get to make use of the many years of study I put into learning all about the Eternal City and its (ancient) language, but rarely do I have the chance to see history ACTUALLY come alive before my eyes. Return readers will know of my secret love for the gladiator/centurions outside the Colosseum, but the pleasure I receive from seeing them at work pales beside the spine-tingling euphoria I got this morning.

Having been pretty sick with the flu these last few days, I showed up to work at the Colosseum this morning not exactly bright eyed or bushy tailed. Nonetheless, a cup of (heavily milked-down) coffee and a really fantastic group of tourists turned my morning into a fairly pleasant experience. It looked like this morning might be ruined, however, when my explanation of the Forum was interrupted by what sounded like a man yelling nonsense Italian over the 'Gladiator' soundtrack. This continued on, and eventually my group and I tried to discern what, exactly, had this man so excited. It was difficult to pick out, since the music was pretty loud and the sound was reverberating off of all the ruins, so all I could make out was that the man kept shouting "Roma! Viva Roma!" over and over again. Knowing that Wednesday (the 21st) is Rome's birthday, I guessed that the Romans were starting the celebrations a few days early.

As it turns out, boy was I right. The modern Romans, in homage to their illustrious ancestors, were marching in what I should probably call a parade, but which I would like to deem a 'triumph' in the Ancient Roman sense of the word. Here is a video of a part of it (listen for the man shouting 'ROMA!' over and over again in the background):



There were entire legions of Roman soldiers, groups of Senators, Vestal Virgins, dancing girls, Gallic slaves, Etruscans, Cleopatra with an Egyptian retinue, a variety of Emperors (I saw both Nero and Hadrian, and everyone booed at Nero), and even a cohort of gods and goddesses. The man with the microphone announced them all, and the triumph moved down the Via Fori Imperiali, around the Colosseum, and ended in the Circus Maximus, where the soldiers and gladiators spent the rest of the day having battles and demonstrating Roman military tactics.

As a long time fan of the Romans, and an ex-pat in love with the Eternal City, it struck me that these modern Romans take great pride and care in the preservation of ancient traditions. The fact that these people in costume were recognizable to the people watching the parade (enough for them to hiss at Cleopatra and cheer the legions by name) is both impressive and uplifting for a nerd like me. 21st century Italians seem to have mostly abandoned the organization and manliness of the ancient Romans, and I often ask myself what happened between antiquity and the modern day (especially when riding the bus, or, heaven help me, visiting the post office). It is comforting, therefore, that for one day (or really, one week of festivities) in April every year, the modern city of Rome celebrates its magnificent past on a personal level.

Gladiators At Work

One of the (fantastically) kitschy things about Rome is the way that certain modern Romans choose to remember their ancient counterparts. These memories take many different forms; one of my favorites is the long-standing March 15th tradition of putting flowers and horrible poetry on the altar in the Forum where Julius Caesar's body was cremated. Something about the ancient Romans sends the modern Romans into histrionics- they can't really like Julius Caesar that much, can they? I mean, he was assassinated by half the Senate, and 23 stab wounds (22 more than were needed to kill him) were considered just punishment for his behavior. Nonetheless, every year his altar is covered in flowers, both real and plastic, and the bad poetry keeps flowing.

My favorite homage to the ancient Romans, however, is the small contingent of men (and at least 2 women) who dress as centurions, emperors, and gladiators and stand outside the Colosseum harassing tourists for money. I've never been exactly clear on how approaching women with a wooden sword and yelling 'I killah your husband!' is a sound career choice, but something about them is unusually charming. The men themselves are often brusque and look absolutely nothing like someone who fights for a living, but each person who passes them finds something to like. For me, it is the strange pleasure of watching these men in full ancient costume do things the ancient Romans never would have done, like smoke cigarettes or talk on cell phones. This is fairly regular behavior for the gladiators, but every once in a while they make my day by going above and beyond atypical ancient behavior. Today, it was this:


Yes, the centurions take the bus! I guess this is what happens when your chariot is in the shop... This man hopped on the bus as I was hopping off it, and struck up a conversation with the other man in the picture, thus accomplishing two of my favorite things to observe at once: gladiators doing modern things, and people having absolutely absurd conversations on the bus/in public without acknowledging how bizarre they look or sound.