I love bringing people to Ostia Antica.
This ancient Roman port city is not only Italy’s best kept
secret, it is a real opportunity to connect with archaeology, history, and the
idea that despite the many years separating us, we are essentially the same
human beings we were two thousand years ago.
Because of a receding coastline and a dramatic change of
course for a river the old city was eventually abandoned and left to decay on
its own.
Like Pompeii it is a
sprawling site with plenty of places to poke around. Unlike Pompeii it is not
as well preserved and there is some restoration work that is quite...energetic.
Also unlike Pompeii, though, it is a site where you are pretty much left to
your own devices. One minute you are looking down from a railing at a sectioned
off part of the public baths to enjoy a beautiful and complex mosaic, the next
you are wondering through ancient streets and the houses that once stood
complete. Stairs, windows, doorways and arches beckon you down other streets
and around corners as you explore the old town. It is an ancient Roman ghost
town beckoning you to explore it, to feel it out, to walk next to the shades of
those who once lived there.
After four weeks of showing them art, archaeology, and
literature, I have reserved this place as the spot in which I end our formal
classes. Their assignment is to simply explore. I want them to walk through the
ancient forum and theatre district and determine on their own what once thrived
in the house and along the cobblestones. Take pictures of what appeals to you.
Record what has grabbed your attention and imagination.
They come back two hours later with tales of underground
passageways and fields and walls. They excitedly recall geckos and strange
flowers and bugs. They show me photos of statues, a theatre, writing in stone. They
are excited and declare that this was one of the best places we visited this
month. I ask them why and they really cannot tell me an answer.
But I know why.
Because there are no guards to shush you, no guides to
present to you, and no specific plan of action to organise you, you are left
alone within the city. It is up to you to determine what you see, what you
find, what you examine. As a result, you create your own connection to Ostia
Antica. You are given a chance to commune with the Romans rather than observe
or study. You walk their streets, play in their yards, and explore their homes.
All this for a 45 minute ride on public transit.
We had a great last night in Rome. We presented the kids
with a 12 Labours of Hercules sort of exercise and sent them on a scavenger
hunt. While they ran about taking photos
of wine bottles and fountains and people looking at maps, we sat in the piazza
next to the Pantheon and ate tiramisu and drank lattes. Tough gig.
The night was perfect with a gentle breeze to make sure we
never got too hot. Now the weather wants to cooperate!
The kids come back excited and energised. By the time we
bring them home they are exhausted and still have to pack.
I sit here in my hotel room very early in the morning and
listen to the city wake up. Rome wakes up with horns honking and men yelling.
At least I think they’re yelling.
I have not slept at all this past night. Between the late night return from our activities to
the pressures of a day of travel I could not sleep. I rarely sleep on the plane
but I might make an exception today.
Desperate, I remembered I had a canola left in my bar fridge
so I ate it. It’s pretty bad when you have a three day old canola for
breakfast. I’m thinking my doctor would not approve.
It’s been a great month with a good group of kids, but I am
ready to go home. I cannot wait to see my garden which is dying from the
drought back home, my bedroom which is in a shambles because we have a new bed,
and my television shows which may or may not be accessible because of connection issues.
But most of all, I cannot wait to see Eric. He will tell my
about his adventures in the North and I will work very hard to stay awake. I
figure I will fall apart somewhere between Kingston and where we turn off the
401.
No worries, though. Eric will take me home.
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