Colosseum, Catacombs, and Extreme Biking

Originally Posted on Christopher's Mister Elsewhere blog.

I woke up late again. I stayed up later than anticipated, and overslept my alarm by one hour. I forced myself out of bed, skipped showering, and threw on some clothes. I went to the backyard of the hostel and unlocked my bicycle, wheeled it up and onto the street, and took off toward my first stop of the day – the Colosseum! Thus began an extreme day-long biking tour of Rome that took me from Sapienza University to the city center, to the far southeastern and southern reaches of the city limits.

I was joining up with a group to tour the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, and Forum. I rode through the streets, almost crashing into a Fiat at a military checkpoint near the Colosseum, the driver cursing at me in Italian through the window. (There are small military presences at most of the major landmarks in Rome nowadays – an aftereffect of the Paris bombings, I'm told. I've also noticed that the Italian military seems to station a male and female guard at these checkpoints, which made me think the Italian military had more women that the U.S. military. According to various online sources, however, this does not seem to be the case.)

I arrived at the Colosseum bus and metro station, locked my bike to some railing, and rushed into the station's entrance to grab a croissant and cappuccino. I scarfed everything down and found my party outside. The tour was composed entirely of couples besides me. I suppose Rome is a kind of couples' destination (it at least seems like it from the composition of my fellow tour-participants thus far). Our guide was a man in his early 30s named Laurence. He was funny, knowledgeable, personable. We ended up talking about cars for a bit of time while walking between the Colosseum and Palatine Hill. (Apparently, the new Mark V Toyota Supra is modeled almost entirely after the BMW Z4/5.)

One major thing I learned from this tour was that the Romans liked their public and royal buildings to be really, really, large. Some the official building's ceilings were 100 feet high! (Laurence said this was more than aesthetic – it was a kind of intimidation technique to make foreign politicians and nobles feel small in the presence of Romans.) I knew this in theory prior to coming to Rome, but seeing it in person is a bit overwhelming. Their pillars reach high into the sky, dwarfing you beneath them.

It was surreal to enter the Colosseum. After studying Latin and learning so much about the ancient world of the Colosseum, it was incredible to finally be physically in it. My first major impression was that it was gigantic. It was also unimaginably intricate. The original walls had ornate chiseling work that wrapped around the entire structure.

The underbelly of the Colosseum was home to a complex set of walkways and elevator systems where wild beasts and other items could be raised up into the arena floor from below. Amazingly, the structure only took 8 years to complete. The original Colosseum had a large overhang to shade spectators, much like some of our fancier modern day stadiums.

While at the Colosseum, I decided to play Pokémon Go just for the hell of it and see what was there. It turns of the Colosseum is a PokéStop. It felt a bit bizarre to play this augmented reality game with colorful cartoon monsters inside an ancient building. I've done something similar in U.S. landmarks, though nothing in the U.S. is really that old...nowhere near 1,000 years old or more, so the absurdity is magnified tenfold.

The tour guide took us from the Colosseum to the Palatine Hill, where we wandered through laurel and olive trees, and then viewed the the remnants of the imperial palaces. There is not a whole lot left of these towering structures – we could walk on fragments of marble flooring, see partial walls and rag-tag bands of remaining pillars. One of the more enduring pieces of the palaces was a bath that was on a lower level of one of the palaces. A sort of boundary structure has been built surrounding it, but the bath itself is largely intact.

The tour ran over time just a little bit, and when we ended in the Forum I took off speed-walking back toward the Colosseum's bus and metro station, where I'd left behind my bicycle 2 hours prior. I found and unlocked my bike, taking a moment to admire and photograph a very beautiful horse that was standing nearby (there are horse-driven buggies that carry people around certain areas of central Rome for a fee).

I went riding southeast, following my map toward Osteria Bonelli, one of my most looked-forward-to eateries in Rome. As I continued to ride and ride, I began to realize that the restaurant was not exactly in Rome. Well, it wasn't in Rome proper. It was in a southeastern suburb, far from the hustle and bustle of the city. By the time I reached the restaurant 25 minutes later, I could feel the blood pulsing through my thighs. The restaurant looked deserted on first glance and my heart sank. As I locked up my bike I noticed two men entering the restaurant, and followed them in. It turned out the place was bustling and packed, which was really strange, since it had been dead quiet outside and difficult to see patrons.

I was told by a waiter that they could seat me as a single person but that I'd need to wait 10 minutes. I agreed, inwardly noting that I'd have to unfortunately axe my visit to the neighboring park that I'd planned to do after eating. I sat outside on a bench as a light mist fell across me from the sky. Eventually the waiter waved to me from the window and I came in. I was seated in a corner and the "menu" was brought over to me. The menu was just a large chalkboard with the menu scrawled on it in Italian. The waiter kindly explain multiple items to me before I ordered bucatini with guanciale (pork jowls, a popular Italian item), sautéed chicory and potatoes (the waiter said spinach was the closest approximation to chicory he could think of), and...fried olives.

This meal was hands-down the best meal I've had in Rome thus far. Everything was delectable. I didn't want it to end. The fried olives were truly amazing, an item with so much texture and complimentary flavors, I wasn't even sure what to think at first. The guanciale was perfectly cooked and added just the right amount of saltiness to the sauce that the al dente bucatini was tossed in. The chicory and potatoes were cooked just right, the potatoes falling apart a little to create a kind of cream with the chicory juice and olive oil.

I left the restaurant on a food high an started peddling toward the Catacombs of Domitilla. I could see on my map that it would take 22 minutes, and that I'd be going through what looked like a very large park. It was the park I'd originally wanted to visit, so I suppose I did get the opportunity to visit it after all.

When I reached the park, I realized quite quickly that my bike wasn't necessarily the kind of vehicle I wanted for this particular expedition. The paths were all dirt, and it had been sprinkling steadily for a couple of hours. I had no other choice, though, if I was going to make it to the Catacombs on time. I went careening through the park, trying to avoid puddles, mud wrapping my wheels. I took a few obscure turns and then crossed a tiny creek on a bridge made of wood palettes. I wondered how the hell Google Maps knew such a route existed. About two-thirds of the way through the park, I looked to my left and saw a flock of sheep grazing. I made a mental note to try and return to this area if I got a chance.

I exited the park by way of a private road lined with some posh houses. I followed the road down to where it met the primary road, the Appian Way, but hooked a left onto a different road heading up a hill. By this time my legs were hurting, but I had no choice but to power up the hill slowly if I was to make it to my Catacombs tour on time. Cars were slowly putting by me as I inched my way up the winding two-lane road. Eventually it flattened out and I could see I was very close to my destination. On the left-hand side I saw a parking lot. I turned in and saw that it was the Catacombs of Domitilla.

I walked in with my bike, seeing a few groups of people sitting on various outdoor benches. I followed the walkway until a man said "Christopher?" I turned to my right. There was a middle-aged man with a goatee and a wallet chain sitting across from a man in his late 20s with blond hair and an older couple who looked vaguely northern European.

As I walked over the bench, the man who had said my name questioningly, asked, "Are you from Rome?" "No." "Are you into extreme sports? Biking here is...kinda crazy." "I'm from LA," I said, lying for the convenience of simultaneously giving a general idea of where I'm from and insinuating that Italian driving behavior in Rome doesn't frighten. I suppose it was simpler than saying, "I've ridden a bike all over Thailand where people drive much crazier" and "I've driven a good amount in Tijuana, Mexico, where people drive much crazier."

The subject was dropped for the moment, as the tour guide introduced himself as "Mike." He kicked off the tour by given us a quick introduction to the city of Rome and the purpose and establishment of the Catacombs. It turns out that there are over 300 kilometers of Catacombs beneath the city of Rome! That's about the distance from San Diego to Ventura in California! One myth that Mike busted for me was that the early Christians never "hid out" from Roman persecution by staying in the Catacombs. This would've been physically impossible, due to the amount of available oxygen and the fact that there were decomposing corpses there which filled the air with considerable amounts of noxious gases, such as methane.

Mike lead us down into the Catacombs of Domitilla, explaining that the reason most of the Catacombs are still relatively well-preserved is because Roman law protected all religious sites, including illegal ones (such as the Christian Catacombs). This is the reason why the Pantheon is so well-preserved. It has been used as a Catholic church since 609 AD (the church is known as Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs). This is also the reason that other historical sites, such as the Palatine and Colosseum, are in much worse condition that the Pantheon and other religious sites.

The Catacombs were narrow and a bit cold. We all walked single file, moving down the corridor behind Mike. He led us through rooms, showing us the emptied graves (the barbarian hordes used to smash open graves in the catacombs and rob them) as well as a few of the ones that are still "occupied." There were some very small graves as well, which we were told were used for dead infants. The Roman patriarch of the family was given the choice to keep children or deny them the privilege of life. If they decided they didn't want a child for whatever reason, they would take them just beyond the city walls and leave them outside to die of exposure. The Christians would find these infants and either give them proper burials or, if they were still alive, raise them in the church.

After finishing up at the Catacombs, I purchased a postcard in the gift shop for 50 cents and began my journey back to hostel, where I had a meeting with the literary journal I work with in about 30 minutes. I made it back unscathed and set up my laptop and video camera inside my little capsule-room. The meeting went well enough, and I felt myself started to fade while listening to the conversation. After we said our goodbyes, I knew I'd need to eat something hot or I'd pass out and miss my other meeting I had scheduled in a few hours.

I decided to go to a spot not too far away from the hostel that I'd passed numerous times. It was a Chinese restaurant called "Tea & Noodles." I'd seen people eating dim sum outside and, after numerous Italian meals over the past few days, I decided I'd try something different. I'm glad I did. While people on Google were raving about this restaurant, some even claiming it was the best meal they had in Italy, I can fairly say that it was really good, though perhaps not some holy site of food. I ordered pork dim sum, hot and sour soup with tofu, chicken curry, and a mango boba tea. Everything was really great, except for the boba tea. I don't know why, but it tasted slightly...soapy? Something was off about it. Other than that, I can highly recommend Tea & Noodles. Everything was cooked perfectly and was flavorful and savory. The hot and sour soup was particularly good.

I returned to the hostel, met with with my manager from work for about 20 minutes, and then worked for about 2 hours. I sat in the kitchen with my headphones on, playing "study noise" from YouTube very loudly. After finishing my work for the night, I packed all my equipment away. As I was zipping up my bag, I Latin music started from the lounge next to the kitchen. The music was blasting and I heard the sound of unified voices shout-singing excitedly in Spanish. I went into the lounge and saw that four of the volunteer employees (who are from various Spanish-speaking nations) were all jumping up and down together singing. Apparently it was Marco's last night at the hostel. (Marco was the young man who had originally checked me into the hostel when I first arrived.) Everyone was celebrating.

At this moment, a woman appeared in front of me. She had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a trench coat over a dress. She introduced herself as "Anya" and told me she was from Kyiv, Ukraine, where she was the managing editor of a newspaper. She was also apparently very interested in partying and liked to drink and go to raves. The volunteers were still bouncing about in the background and, after about 15 minutes of their raucous dancing, they all shuffled up the stairs to go clubbing together. Part of me was tempted to go with them, but I was pretty tired and I decided to stay inside.

Anya and I moved into the kitchen, where a very tall man was making himself instant coffee. He turned about when we walked in. "How are you drinking coffee right now?" I asked him. It was about midnight. "It's instant decaf," he said in an American accent. My eyes widened. "Can I get some?" He pushed the container toward me on the table. "Have at it." This man's name was Max and he had spent the last 12 years in Portland, Oregon by way of Munich, Germany. He had lost whatever was left of his German accent in the 12 years in the United States (though, after meeting other Germans in Rome, I've noticed they all speak English fluently and with an American accent).

Anya, Max, and I all went up to the hostel's patio so they could smoke rolled cigarettes. That's when a man named Carlos entered the patio through the front gate. Apparently Carlos and Max already knew one another. Carlos was a bit toasted, but wanted more beer. He ordered beer for everyone except me (I don't drink) from the hostel bar. It turns out Carlos lives in Austin, so we had an interesting conversation about the Texas capitol. Carlos runs a food truck just north of the city, and has also worked for Cheesecake Factory for 13 years. Very interestingly (and I hope this wasn't simply drunk-speak) is that he opened a store location in Dubai and in Kuwait. Apparently they flew in workers from the Philippines, Sri Lanka, and India to work there and they have a separate, nearby housing facilities for them to live in.

I attempted to exit the conversation a couple of times, but everyone begged me to stay. Soon enough, it was 2:00am and I begged them to let me sleep. I slipped away and carefully crawled into my little capsule, trying not to wake my roommates. I feel asleep very quickly.