Esquilino (Border's Writing Assignment 3)

I love the taste of blood oranges. The burst of citrus liquid trickling down my throat reminds me of an edible honey day; that day’s warmth spread over my bare legs peeking under a flowing summer dress. Its succulent flesh squeezed a sourly sweet juice that spilled across my palms, and I shamelessly licked its path down my fingertips. A woman with kind eyes gave me seven. Grazie. Gathering my blood oranges wrapped in brown canvas paper and my bag of red bell peppers, I disappeared into the market crowd. The air was perfumed with the sweetness of fresh ripe fruits strangely mingled with the pungent aroma of raw meat, live fish, and the nutty scent of eastern spices. An intriguingly fragrant invitation made my nose tingle and steps falter as I stumbled through this chaotic open-air market that embraced stall after stall of deliciousness. Benvenuti al Mercato Esquilino.

The market’s vendors had a few Italians but were otherwise mostly immigrants. I succumbed to a dizzy descent of the senses: first my eyes, nose, and now ears—ears that endlessly hummed with unwanted remarks from the vendors. A chorus of “Ciao bella! Come ti chiami? Di dove sei?” was interspersed with random greetings in other languages— English, Japanese, Korean, and Chinese. Uncomfortable, alienated, and trapped by invisible walls of awkward words, my pace quickened as I raced through the market desperate to find a familiar face. Deliberately averting eye contact and pretending not to hear or understand, I scurried past more strangers with strange words. What a laudable decision independent girl, wandering around the market by yourself. I need to stop, breathe, and feel. The golden morning light, hovering above the crowd, settled and glowed on my skin. Bathed in its warmth, I welcomed relaxed senses and an eased mind. I laughed at the silliness of my anxiety. This place is foreign, these people are foreign, and such behavior is foreign. I began question the walls I erect against this foreignness.

The root of my discomfort stems from a fear of the unknown, the unfamiliar. Most of the vendors are foreigners as well, immigrants residing in a foreign land. Where are their walls? They seem at home, whether temporary or permanent. My steps slowed in front of a butcher shop. Three men smiled. I smiled back. Each of the three butchers had a distinct ethnicity: Italian, Egyptian, and Bangladeshi. Our brief, lighthearted conversation revealed that the two foreign men had lived in Italy for two years. I was impressed. They spoke Italian with such fluidity, teasing and laughing together like brothers. Despite different backgrounds, they seemed to have adapted into an immigrant culture, a synthesis of various nationalities. The market possesses a natural system of mutual understanding between all its participants—vendors and consumers. The marketplace has its own identity, distinct from the Italian identity outside its walls. It is a stage of cultural collision. However, instead of a “clash of civilizations,” these identities melt within each other, united in their differences and shared experiences as outsiders. After a few clicks of my camera, I greeted the blinding midday sun.

Saturday, I returned to Esquilino. Great, I’m lost as anxiety knotted my chest once again. I ran around, circling the edges of Piazza Vittorio. You must have thought me mad. Don’t worry. I knew. I saw the strange and worried stares. I ran past shoe, bag, and clothing shops before standing breathless at the entrance of the bustling market. I was a dying man in a desert who just found his oasis. It was exactly 3:24pm. I am embarrassed to admit that I had wandered for well over an hour since leaving Termini. This time, I was determined to converse with the immigrants and ask them about their experiences. Oh great, ciao bellas. Maybe I should search for a person not shouting at me. I need some conditioner. The guy who sells it seemed quiet enough. Unfortunately, he was too quiet. His lack of English skills and my tragically poor Italian meant less than two exchanged phrases in five minutes. After moments of awkward silence as I tried to sign language my questions, I dejectedly gave up and left. He was from Bangladesh, been here for two years, did not know anything about immigration, and didn’t understand me (so he said). Now I’m stuck with a huge bottle of conditioner I will never finish in six weeks. Perfect. Nevermind. Onto my next target. This time, a chatty one. Good news: he spoke English! Bad news (since I am researching on immigration): he’s Italian. Fine. I will try the bag shops since I might even need a new purse. Within the covered rows of shops, a few shoe vendors approached me. I remember one of them calling after me in some Italian earlier, but I was too distraught and lost to care. Now they tried again in English, “Where are you from?” Why do I always get that question? They spoke English well. It seemed that they were confused about my ethnic background. Strange. Here I was pondering the same questions about ethnicity of the vendors and they are just as curious about my origins. I suppose now is the time to reveal that I’m Chinese and grew up in the States (if you didn’t know already). They were shocked. To them I did not look like the Chinese around their area (a lot of Chinese people lived and worked around this market). Their guesses ranged from Japanese, Korean, Indian, and even part Italian! After some funny inquires about my background and theirs, they welcomed me to come again and continue our conversation. I promised to return, excited to converse again with the Bangladeshi man who lived in Rome since I was born and spoke excellent Italian and English. I love people with stories, and I know he will have amazing ones to share.

The sun had set and taken with it its radiant fire. My glowing lamplight coils around my bed as I write to you. I am vaguely recalling home. Maybe the market was their home, where these immigrants found acceptance with each other. I will go back again, but now it is midnight and sleep beckons as I sink deeper between my sheets.

Buona notte amici!

Alexis

On-site Jewish Ghetto Freewrite

“Who is there to help me?” begged the haunting eyes of the Holocaust victims. Their piercing gaze vividly plagued my vision as I recall my day at the Jewish synagogue. Doors of train carts crashing against metal locks punctuated images of innocent souls trapped in a nightmarish ride that some never awoke from. Who heard your cries? Where was your savior then? The horror after the train stopped, unbeknownst to its ill-fated passengers, morbidly unraveled beneath my eyelids. For a moment, I was a silent witness to screams of a forsaken people.

That video shook me in ways I leave you to imagine. Feel the borders, walls, gates, and doors—metaphorical or physical enclosures of alienation, misunderstandings, hate, and ethnocentrism erected by humans. You must be categorized and perfectly placed in a group. We mark you, sewing a yellow star onto your chest. You can’t escape. The macabre crimes against one race are walls of unrelenting hatred. It is a border of persecution against a people termed as the “other,” the “unknown.” Guilty murderers: blind conformers of ignorant mobs. Innocent victims: young Anne Franks with untold diaries. The fences of Auschwitz sealed the Holocaust victims from the world, a fence meant to exclude and erase remnants of the “other” race. A tragic end awaited all inhabitants within those walls. The walls created an inferno on earth, a literal furnace burned bones to ashes. No traces reminded.

Now I traverse through the ancient but modern cobbled alleyways of the Jewish Ghetto with Gabriella leading the way. She recounts the history of her people. I listen. I ask, “Why does the Pope refer to Israel as the Holy Land but doesn’t acknowledge it as a country for the Jews?” She explained: the Popes historically have never acknowledged that Israel belonged to the Jewish people. This barrier of separation, an enduring mentality of us against them, when or will it ever end?

Jews, historically persecuted, now build gates to the synagogue, seemingly to shield themselves and their faith from foreign brutality. It vigilantly guards the path to its inner realm that protects fragmented pieces of memories of a bloody, but rich past—never to forget, and always to cherish. Message to outsiders: stay away. A slip of red paper granted my entrance into this secret world. The gates symbolize a threshold that leads to a refugee, sanctuary, and even heaven for the designated insiders (the Jewish people). These ancient wanderers finally found a home, yet they raise more walls. Despite the paramount differences in the two aforementioned gates (terror within Auschwitz and solace within the synagogue), both are walls of isolation that defines the insider from the outsider. The walls are everywhere, forever circling your past, future, and your ever glorified present. The walls may never fall, or you may say it’s my cynicism.

Questions for Amara Lakhous

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Lakhous’ novel Clash of Civilizations Over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio. In some way, this book reminded me of another intriguing author and book—Albert Camus’ The Stranger. Cleverly funny, curiously philosophical, and oddly tragic, this unconventional novel seized my attention until its last, one hundred and thirty-first page. Settling down this book after a late morning of a refreshingly thought-provoking read, I reflected on some questions I would like to ask the author during his visit. Here’s the list (excuse my stream of consciousness style questions): How did you get the idea for writing this story and in this style (also with different people’s perspectives on a murder)? Did you identify with any one of your characters or did you use other people you knew to shape your characters? What is your take away message? Or is there a definite, clear message that you want to communicate? Amedeo is from Northern Africa (Algiers I believe—you are from Algiers as well so is there more to Amedeo’s origin?), but he tries to escape from his past. I still feel that fragments of Amedeo’s past do not piece together a complete explanation of his life before Rome. So is it relevant to know his history and identity, true and complete? Who is Amedeo and what does he symbolize (this may lead to the question of can we ever truly know anyone, including even ourselves?)? What is the significance of Amedeo’s “howling?” What does the elevator signify (the microcosm of Rome and/or Italy through all the conflict it involves?) as the residents battle over its deteriorating conditions? It seems that the further south one originates from, the more he is despised and discriminated against (even people within Italy e.g. the Milanese professor’s contempt for Romans). What do you think of your book being made into a movie? Do you have specific preferences on how you want your characters or the setting portrayed? Are you involved in its production?

An exhaustive list of questions that I can’t wait to ask!

Mari (Border's Writing Assignment 2)

Mari. I met her through a friend of mine. She’s Italian and studying English, Chinese, and French as a fifth year university student. We decided to do a language exchange of Italian, English, and Chinese. Saturday, 3pm, at the Piazza di Spagna, I waited. I knew it was her immediately. Wrapped in a classic black coat beautifully paired with a voluminous white turtleneck sweater, she was chic in her simplicity. She lingered on the Spanish Steps, scanning the plaza below for my arrival. I spotted her from atop and called out her name with excited nervousness. She turned around and both of us greeted each other with flushed smiles.

Then off we go! Rows of shops, lines of cars, and crowds of people passed by, but I was not aware of my surroundings anymore. My eyes, ears were all focused on her. Her voice painted alluring images of Italian culture, food, and life. We shared our study abroad experiences, and in between I learned some Italian! The next time I stopped, I was standing at the center of Piazza Navona. As if awoken from a dream, I gazed across the open piazza framed by quaint, charming cafes. We strolled passed two fountains at the heart of the square and finally relaxed outside in a café’s terrace nestled conspicuously in front of La Fontana del Moro. I mumbled something along the lines of, "Scusi, cioccolata calda per favore." Success! The waiter understood, and I think I may just have impressed my new friend.

Seated comfortably in our idyllic setting with a heavenly hot chocolate in hand, our voices again clicked away as the flowing waters, clattering plates, and rushing steps all faded away against a backdrop of a glowing sunset on this ancient piazza. We resumed our talks about life abroad, Italian and English literature (Did I mention how well-versed she was in Dante, the Bronte sisters, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and other classics? Now on my list of Italian authors to read are—when I do master the language of love—Luigi Pirandello and Italo Svevo.), and naturally arriving at my designated topic of discussion: the immigrant protests in southern Italy. She explained the prevalence of discrimination in Italy, a nation where even people from the north and south are divided. Both harbor antagonistic sentiments toward one another: the northerners referred to as “polentoni” and the southerners as “terroni.” Polentoni derives from polenta that mockingly alludes to cornmeal porridge hungry northerners and torreni translates to backward peasants who are the socially inferior southerners. Neither side relents on degradingly stereotyping the other.

As expected, this prejudiced nature extends to the African immigrants persecuted in southern Italy. The recent riots of these immigrants arose in response to racism and wrongful assaults by local Italians. With both parents from the south (one from Campania and the other from Sicily), Mari explained this complex racially charged situation. She explained the plight of these tireless illegal immigrant laborers, working endless days and nights for pitiful pay. They are the ones toiling away in the fields, picking fruits and vegetables. They perform jobs that most Italians shun, jobs viewed as beneath their dignity.

The recent economic crisis exasperated the tensions between these immigrants and local Italians. With mounting job loss across Italy, especially in the north as large companies lay off workers, more Italians fear their jobs were “stolen” by the illegal immigrants. However, this is not true since most of these illegal immigrants did not hold such jobs. Nevertheless, animosity and hostility further escalated, and the government fed this unfounded fear. One case Mari gave was Lega Nord (North League), a prominent political party in the north, supporting a program termed “White Christmas.” Euphemistic in name, the program permitted government officials to inspect house by house on Christmas day for illegal immigrants, checking each suspicious resident’s immigration documents. Not only did the Italian government not help to alleviate the hardships of these immigrants, it further bred local Italians’ growing prejudice against them. Her grave eyes revealed her disappointment and disapproval of such racial hatred as she repeated, “It is a very bad thing.” A very unfortunate and bad thing indeed.

I sipped the last few drops of my hot chocolate and looked beyond the darkening horizon, distantly recalling the sad realities of racism in America before and after the abolition of slavery. Mari continued. This time she tried to provide an answer to explain the continued racism in Italy. She began with Fascism. Italy’s fascist ideals, led by Benito Mussolini, were mostly racist. However, Mussolini’s dictatorial regime did not last long. Thus, fascism met an abrupt end with the violent death of Mussolini. On the other hand, Spain had a relatively longer time under fascist rule and eventually ended with a natural transition to democracy after Francisco Franco’s death. Mari suggested that this difference is relevant when comparing why Italy may be more discriminatory against outsiders than Spain. Spain endured a longer rule under fascism so its people remember and understand well the meanings and purpose of fascism. On the contrary, Italians may not fully understand the terrible racism and damaging ideals of fascism. Consequently, more young adults today join fascist groups that try to revive Mussolini’s legacy. When describing this occurrence, Mari again shook her head as she chides, “They just don’t remember or know how bad it is, how racist it is.”

The sun had long set after our conversation quieted to an end. The heated lamps, hovering above the tables, casted a warm glow around us but could not stop the freezing wind seeping into my bones. At that moment, I didn't care. I was lost in my thoughts, absorbing all I had just heard. Sitting here, overlooking the piazza, and sipping my (now cold) chocolate, I am struck by my contradictory state. Here I am in a bourgeois setting contemplating on how such a picturesque world can be so tarnished through racial antagonism.

Despite the difficulty in communicating some aspects of the immigration and racial situations, our conversation effortlessly flowed from one topic to another. I looked at her and this time I smiled as both of us, at the same time, tucked our hands in our pockets to shield them from the biting cold. It had been four hours. I did not notice the time, only that I didn’t want it to end. Sitting there with her against the cold, I know I must wait until our next encounter to resume our discussion. After a brief stop at my apartment and some quick Italian lessons in my kitchen (where I attempted to learn some kitchen vocabulary), I hugged her goodbye. And then she was gone. But rest assured, we will meet again. In the meantime, I wish your days are filled with many wonderful encounters!

Arrivederci amici!

Alexis

Il Colosseo: Mixing Business with Pleasure

An entertainment facility rivaling the Pyramids of Giza, the Hagia Sophia basilica, and the Taj Mahal mausoleum as a world renowned national masterpiece, the Colosseum is one of the most memorable icons of ancient Rome. The Roman poet Martial unabashedly praised the Colosseum, placing it at the head of a largely mythical roster of ancient Wonders of the World.

Egypt, forbear thy Pyramids to praise,

A barb’rous Work up to a Wonder raise;

Let Babylon cease th’incessant Toyl to prize,

…

All Works to Caesar’s Theatre give place,

This Wonder Fame above the rest does grace.

This imposing and conspicuous monument epitomized glory, power, and prosperity for the empire of Rome. It is THE Roman amphitheater where countless suffered and died, leaving only a select few who survived at the mercy of an often ruthless crowd. Death, fear, and despair overwhelmed the “entertainers” of the Colosseum, blatantly juxtaposed against the cheers, anticipation, and excitement of the “entertained.” Situated at the heart of Rome, this triumphal showpiece is both utilitarian in function and symbolic in social and political purposes. The Colosseum embodied in its form and function pleasures of popular entertainment to appease the masses, but also symbolized the emperor’s political desire to interact with the Roman citizenry and win their favor. It balanced a fine scale of political power and public support. Such a functionally complex structure was a testament to the power and stability of Roman social order and a proliferation of the propagandistic political motives of an ambitious emperor. The saga of the Colosseum—from its origins, its height, and through its eventual decline and collapse—paints a vivid insight into the culture, society, and history of the ancient Roman Empire.

Nero Who? Long Live Vespasian!

Discussion on the origins of the Flavian amphitheater, later known as the Colosseum, mandates the accounting of the Flavian dynasty’s ascension after the death of the emperor Nero followed by eighteen months of civil unrest. With victory finally bestowed on Titus Flavius Vespasianus, or Vespasian, he ushered in an era of peace. Despite Rome embracing a return to normalcy, Vespasian knew he must solidify his imperial position to prevent a coup d’état like the one that overthrew Nero. In one brilliantly charged political move, Vespasian erected the Colosseum to embody his new imperial dynasty and to appease the masses. In one ingenious stroke, Vespasian eradicated memories of the self-serving and hated emperor Nero by returning land to the Roman populace with a gift of a monument to public entertainment. Thus, Vespasian shrewdly chose the site of the former Golden House, Nero’s extravagant palatial complex, as the location for his new amphitheater. Henceforth, the Flavian amphitheater would be a colossal jewel of Rome as well as a public venue promoting imperial benevolence and magnificence rather than a private imperial luxury for a despot. At the same time, the Colosseum was a dramatic gesture of goodwill and generosity to the Roman public, an unparalleled adornment worthy of the grandeur and authority of the capital of a vast Mediterranean empire. This public pleasure palace, rising from spoils of successful Roman military campaigns, belonged not only the aristocrats and royals, but to the Roman citizenry at large.

Duality of Function of the Majestic “Eighth Wonder”

An emblem of a new political and social beginning, the Colosseum seamlessly harmonized its dual role, fulfilling its utilitarian purpose as an entertainment facility while also serving as a political theater cementing the imperial power-base. The Flavian amphitheater housed riveted audiences with dazzling spectacles calculated to impress and glorify its patron, whose presence lent additional excitement and awe to the occasion. An inescapable excitement of all senses encouraged the crowd to bask in intoxicating collective reactions to events unfolding on center stage. The inspiring structure and embellishments surrounded a rapt audience, brimming with delight and anticipation. The technical refinement and exorbitant expense spent on these ceremonies continually flattered and impressed the spectators. Enchanting melodies serenaded one’s ears; striking imagery mesmerized one’s eyes; and the immense system of awnings, the velarium, drifted the spectators to a deep aura of fantasy. How can the Romans stray from or even contemplate opposing the mighty yet generous emperor when he pampers them so? Such a sentiment rightly echoes the mindset of the Roman emperor in commissioning the spectacles in the Colosseum. He alone stood sober and in control amongst a people succumbed to a drunken stupor, heralding the great virtues of their ruler. The more successful and popular the entertainment, the more committed the allegiance of the Roman populace. The utilitarian quality of this amphitheater thus heightened its symbolic political function to manifest strong national fervor and loyalty to a new dynasty. The emperor, aristocrats, and commoners all seated and entertained in the same space inspired solidarity between the strata of social status, which helped to mold a national identity. Consequently, to begin understanding such a cleverly disguised form of propaganda of social and political appeasement, one has to examine the architectural intricacies of the Colosseum.

An Architect’s Exploration of Theater Technicalities

The magnificence of the enormous elliptical Colosseum abounds even in its modern ruined state. The entire building was built on a massive network of stable travertine piers to carry its tremendous weight. Seven vaulted concentric rings support the cavea, audience seating, and each contains eighty radial piers forming the framework of the edifice. The grand façade rose splendidly in three superimposed tiers of gradation arcades cumulating in a wall-like attic with small square windows.

The entire structure was crowned by a series of wood masts functioning to secure the velarium, a protection from the blazing sun or torrential rain. The tiers of arcades were adorned by applied Classical orders of engaged columns that followed a logical sequence: Tuscan on the lowest level, Ionic on the second level, Corinthian on the third level, and Corinthian plasters on the lofty attic. A rhythmically procession of distinct columns at each level and the divided seating in the cavea reflect the Roman’s preoccupation with imposing order, especially social order The rigid hierarchies of Roman society were accordingly reinforced within and without the confines of the amphitheater. Not solely a massive structure, the Colosseum was a political statement that declared the Flavian emperors’ commitment to the Roman social order.

The innovative design of the cavea reveals the rigid segregation, through seating arrangements, of social class within the Roman society. A firm and effective buttressing system, created through tiers of interlocking radial walls and concentric rings, supported the cavea and provided access to the arena stage and seating. The cavea was divided into five horizontal blocks: podium, ima cavea, media cavea, summa cavea, and the summum maenianum in ligneis. The social strata are thus physically separated. The different social divisions included the emperor and senators, the order of knights, the Roman citizens, the general male population (urban poor, foreigners, freed slaves, and slaves), and lastly women presumed “respectable” wives and daughters of Roman citizens (delegated to the shielded wooden seating beneath the colonnade of the attic gallery).

The fantastical labyrinthine web of radial passageways circling around the amphitheater facilitated movement and lent support to the architecture. The honeycomb structure of successively diminishing levels of radial passages and arches supported the cavea and also served as a means of circulation. The passageway beneath the seats permitted large groups of people to enter and leave the theater simultaneously.

Finally, one can progress to the centerpiece below ground, consisting of an area larger than the arena. The original wooden arena floor and metal barrier that once protected audiences are now gone, exposing a nightmarish maze of subterranean tunnels, passageways, and chambers meant for gladiators, beasts, staff, and machinery. The ends of the major axes had storerooms and an underground corridor leading to gladiatorial training camps. It does not take a skilled archeologist to reveal the conditions of packed sweating laborers toiling underneath the pounding of contests and hunts above. Although essential to maintain the game’s livelihood, it was a putrid, deafening, arduous, and demeaning line of work.

Let the Games Begin!

The official inaugural games of the Colosseum under the new emperor Titus in AD 80 opened with battles, beast hunts, and bloodshed that were rumored to have lasted a hundred days. The mortality rates at this bloodbath extravaganza are difficult to estimate. No reliable concrete figures for gladiator deaths exist, but animal slaughters is said to range from 5000 each day to 9000 in total. However, immense displays lasting countless days, such as the opening ceremony, were rare—albeit extensively glorified in history. Such spectacles often celebrated special anniversaries: the emperor’s birthday, a victorious military conquest, or the commemoration of a great predecessor. Reportedly, Trajan offered the biggest bloodbath ever recorded in the Colosseum, lasting 123 days with 11,000 animals slaughtered and 10,000 gladiators forced into combat. However, many performances at the Colosseum were not such bloody and deadly affairs as those sponsored by the emperors. Roman aristocrats, attempting to enhance their image, poured money into hosting public shows in the Colosseum. To prevent potential adversaries from diverting public favor and support with extravagant performances, emperors devised a limited repertoire of gladiators and beasts employable by the aristocrats. The shows were naturally subpar, even amateurish, compared to an imperial spectacle.

The gladiatorial combats were brutal and merciless. They usually fought in pairs, one to one, with umpires and trainers for supervision, stretcher bearers to carry off the wounded or dead, and a blacksmith and forge for on-site repairs. The victors were generously rewarded with fame and splendid gifts from the game’s sponsor, which eventually led to an honorable discharge. However, a defeated or wounded gladiator was at the mercy of a crazed crowd. They roared for him to be killed or spared, indicating their favor or derision with their thumbs, but the sponsor ultimately decided the man’s fate.

Gladiators were symbols of moral degradation in Roman society and considered the lowest of all classes in Roman literature. These marginal outsiders of society consisted of war captives, the poor and wretched, slaves, and men condemned for heinous crimes. A short life of danger, fear, and pain awaited most gladiators—although a lucky few gained fame and eventual freedom. Regardless of whether active military combat was engaged or not, the insatiable lust for war was replayed in the arena where military prowess found expression from imagination to reality through all the carnage.

The infatuation of witnessing spectacles involving animal hunts and slaughter resulted in a higher number of captive animal deaths than those of gladiator deaths. Slaying the exotic beasts vividly showcased Roman dominance over the worlds of both nature and man. The animals brought to the Colosseum ranged from bulls and bears to elephants, giraffes, hippopotamuses, and panthers. The animals were not only killed for sport, but also used to kill criminals and prisoners that are part of the arena’s shows. The popular image of sadistic excess was thus a product of a belligerent culture and a love for bloody spectacles.

Subliminal Intentions of the Principate

The political and social nature of the Colosseum was touched upon earlier as the perfect setting for the emperor to connect to his people. The structure was cleverly constructed and enclosed a world of its own, uniting elites and commoners to enjoy the shows. It was a magnificent site for the emperor to demonstrate his power and rally his people behind his banner of supremacy and generosity. Of course, the Roman people had their share of fond fantasies of exercising their collective influence in front of the emperor through rhythmical chants of “let live” or “let die” with regards to a defeated gladiator. To be heard was a form of accessibility for the Roman people to their state’s decisions. However, such beliefs in the power of chants within the Colosseum were mostly delusions of the public having some power over royal decisions.

The Colosseum was so much more than just a public entertainment facility. It was a political theater where the emperor gauged his popularity and support through the cheers of an enthusiastic mob seduced by violence, sporadic gifts from the emperor, and a thrilling ambiance. A grateful and obedient crowd sometimes chanted for more or for the end of a battle, rendering a unified and powerful Roman people. It was a crucial part of political life for the Romans to see and been seen in the Colosseum, and the emperor understood this well.

The Colosseum became one of the main devices used to judge the emperor’s quality and worth in ruling the vast Roman Empire. To win people’s loyalty, emperors lavishly showered audiences with presents or tokens, exchanged later for more valuable trinkets. They even offered lunch, or what is said to be the ancient equivalent of modern fast food, while onlookers enjoyed scenes from below. Anyone craving a cheeseburger, fries, and coke with a side of gory combat, complements of your highness?

Despite all his generosity, the emperor still risked being upstaged by the inferior gladiators, sometimes stars of the shows. Amid the scrutiny of Roman citizens, the emperor vied for popular attention against the performers. The Colosseum hence portrayed the emperor as the benefactor of lavish public entertainment, yet such an image was not easily won.

The Colosseum was not so much a demonstration of Roman solidarity as much as it was a subtle display of social and political fissures and conflicts. The perpetual antagonism between the senate and emperor is entrenched deep within Roman history. Yet, there they sat together on the same block, facing off as in a duel across from the Colosseum. The two conflicts—on stage of warrior versus beast, and off stage of emperor versus senate—were continually intertwined. Consequently, the Colosseum spotlighted the dramatic political disputes of the emperor and his opponents for the public to witness.

The Curtains Finally Fall

The Colosseum truly deserves its status as an ancient wonder. This expansive monumental enterprise commissioned under a new dynasty by Vespasian was a perfectly calculated political and social endeavor designed to manifest solidarity and forge a distinctly Roman identity. The games stimulated the senses of spectators, creating a state of fanaticism. Entranced by the arena’s deadly battles and flattered by the emperor’s generosity, the Roman people become docile puppets and the emperor their brilliant puppeteer. The more lavish the emperor’s spectacles, the more he garners public support and devotion. He bribes his people to secure his authority.

By grasping the history of the Colosseum, one begins to embark on a journey to fully understand the compelling legacy of an ancient civilization that continues to influence modern society. The massive architecture more than achieved its utilitarian purpose of entertainment. The innovative designs and sheer size of the structure showcased to the entire Mediterranean world the power, creativity, and unity of Rome. The purpose of the structure awakened visceral emotions within the Roman populace as they crushed their opponents on the battlefield and in the arena, so woe to those who opposed the mighty eternal city. Rome’s enemies may have been the next sacrificial victims of the Colosseum, where 50,000 Roman citizens would gather and cheer for their deaths.

The assembly of the emperor’s subjects in a common space encouraged communal spirit and local identity within the vastness of Rome. The emperor interacted and connected with his people during the procession of the games, serving as a binding element of the new Vespasian regime. How brilliant the emperor manipulated the Roman population so that they willingly consented to his rule. The Colosseum was a tool in an attempt to win popular loyalty and affection, but true power and support ultimately rested within the emperor as a competent, qualified ruler.

Modern Interpretations

The Colosseum continues to stand imposing and majestic, luring artists, visitors, students, and collectors from across the world. The notoriously mythical and sophisticatedly primitive ambience of this amphitheater nestled in the backdrop of ancient Roman architecture elicits feelings of intrigue, respect, and amazement. This building receives both ancient and modern audiences but for different purposes. Ancient crowds packed the cavea to witness morbid scenes of violence for entertainment, but modern tourists explore the structure for its historical significance.

A contradiction of feelings arises for modern visitors of the Colosseum. Most would naturally admire the grandeur and technical achievements of constructing such a monument. However, some may deplore the violence, cruelty, and bloodshed of the amphitheater’s spectacles. Are people epitomizing the greatness of the Colosseum as an ancient “eighth wonder” and simultaneously decrying its bloody purpose? How different was the Roman society from today’s? Are we entitled to make such judgments when modern day boxing matches demonstrate comparable degrees of violence? Modern cinemas host a vast selection of popular actions films with extreme scenes of violence that draw millions of audiences worldwide. Violence is everywhere: in movies, news, video games, and streets. By questioning the morality of the Roman’s reactions to the violence, people subconsciously question the nature of their humanity. Would I react similarly when confronted with such a form of entertainment? Nevertheless, the technical, social, and political accomplishments of the Colosseum never cease to amaze ancient and modern audiences, forever glorifying the ingenuity and might of the emperor and his empire.

Reflections

The Colosseum was the great arena that held gladiatorial combats and beast hunts. That basically describes the extent of my knowledge of this renowned structure prior to my research. Through my in-depth exploration into the history, architecture, social and political institutions behind the events in the amphitheater, I can now truly appreciate this masterpiece. The Colosseum used as a tool for social and political propaganda was especially intriguing. Never before did it occur to me that emperors erected and held events at such a monument to cement their power. The fact that no other amphitheater of comparable size was ever constructed before the Colosseum and that none gathered and contained such massive amounts of people amazed me. I begin to question its purpose. Through my curiosity, I enjoyed learning about how the emperors achieved their fame and popularity by sponsoring spectacular games. Not only are the political aspects interesting, the process of the games and the people involved are equally fascinating. To understand and appreciate the beauty of a monument one has to understand its achievements and purposes. This statement could not be more true in my admiration for the Colosseum.

Bibliography

Beacham, Richard C. Spectacle Entertainments of Early Imperial Rome. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1999.

Beard, Mary, and Keith Hopkins. The Colosseum. United Kingdom: Butler and Tanner, 2005.

Bomgardner, David L. The Story of the Roman Amphitheatre. London [u.a.]: Routledge, 2000.

http://depts.washington.edu/arch350/Assets/Slides/Lecture25.gallery/index.htm

Welch, Katherine E. The Roman Amphitheatre: From Its Origins to the Colosseum. Cambridge [u.a.]: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2007.

Be Italian (Border's Writing Assignment 1)

She turns her head around from the diver’s seat and whispered in a shy smile, “Ok, we are going to do a very bad thing.” I whipped my head around and stared straight into a row of cars’ headlights, praying that those were not going to be the last words I will ever hear…

Bella Roma, your differences in identities, cultures, and languages are all borders I experience in a medley of confusion, wonder, apprehension, and excitement. I am the outsider exploring the premises of your world, searching for a hidden door that leads to understanding and acceptance into your inner realm. What is Italian? Please explain, and let me in. That separation, a wall with a gateway I cannot find, unites the insiders of Italians and only admits those proven to possess competent qualities of “being Italian.”

It’s Thursday morning, a day after I moved into my new apartment perched atop the restless Campo di’Fiori. The market is just waking up, but I’ve been counting sheep for over two hours. Jet lag has never been a friend. My cell phone flashed the time, 8am. I need to do something. Run. Outside, showers of drizzle greeted me along with some puzzled stares. The aliens have arrived, me in my matching jacket and track pants and my running buddy in a t-shirt and shorts. Already the unspoken differences in cultures arose. Nowhere were the stares more apparent and uncomfortable than when we arrived along the river and started our jog. The stares never stopped; rather, more joined. To Italians, we must have been an odd sight, bouncing along the Fume Tevere (Tiber) at 8am, in the rain, and in such attire. No one but us was jogging.

The cultural differences did not stop there. A couple of days after the running fiasco, I joined my friends and their Italian friends for dinner. After a ten course dinner and hours of funny, albeit intense discussions on Italian culture, we all packed into an Italian friend’s car and headed for home. First destination: Campo di’Fiori. Zipping through traffic in a seemingly disregard of lanes is more of a distinct Italian driving culture. After a few minutes, I heard a yell. I looked to my right and knew. We missed our exit. It was a long stretch of road from where the car stopped to where the exit was. Now it comes: the turn of her head, her reassuringly serious but lighthearted words, my glance back, the blinding rows of lights behind me, and one car rolling by in the correct but opposite direction. As we swerved backwards to our exit, the cars behind seemed rooted in one line. When I finally arrived at the west side of the campo’s winding streets, our Italian friend assured me the ease of locating my apartment after some brief instructions. Apparently, I don’t have the innate Italian sense of direction, which resulted in trying to navigate the labyrinthine alleyways for forty-five minutes. After a series of pointing and hand gestures with passersby, Campo di’Fiori finally emerged.

These experiences spotlighted the differences in what is accepted, the norms, and what is expected as common knowledge to Italians. The differences serve as borders, the borders that define one culture from the other through language, culture, and norms. It is bizarre to run on the streets by the river; it is normal to drive with relaxed rules; and it is expected for one to know the way through complex alleys. I have only just begun to my walk around the walls that separates the Italian insiders and foreign outsiders. Crossing that border is achieved when one naturally understands and seamlessly adapts to the differences.

Until the next adventure, ciao!

Alexis

Border's Reading

“A sort of collective amnesia has swallowed up the experience of Italian emigration, of Italian colonialism, of Fascism, the knowledge of the complexity of Italian society itself. The residual imagery serves only to create boundaries between the newcomers and the host society.”

—Vanessa Maher’s Immigration and Social Identities, 168

One of the main points that this article discusses is the how the immigrants are perceived by the native Italians and the dynamic of their interaction or perception. This quote touches on the issue of how the Italian culture is defined and how it separates itself from foreign cultures. The author provides examples of writers who point out that Italians share a common culture, but they have forgotten their history. The Italians identify with each other through a common language, popular culture, way of life, and countless of other factors. However, Maher seems to argue that, collectively, Italians have forgotten about their history when connecting with one another. This is termed as a “complex and selective social amnesia” (Maher 168). Through collective amnesia of Italy’s history of emigration, colonialism, Fascism, and its complex society, the significance of new immigration throughout the world only translates to separating the outsiders from the insiders, Italians.

The collective amnesia phenomenon described by Maher seems to imply that native Italian’s purpose of differentiating the foreigners serves more to exclude than identify which group they belong in. The lumping together of distinct groups of people in general categories such as Moroccan, African, and Oriental appears to be more than stereotyping. It is more a way to distinguish the “other.” The distinction may not stem from the history of the “other” and its impact on Italy’s past. The past is forgotten, so the current identification of foreigners is merely serving to categorically exclude them from the native Italians. Thus, this labeling is not based on past experiences, but rather on separating outsiders.