12/2/08

Rome is for Lovers, Not Runners




Rome is not a city for runners. There were no runners, just walkers, as I breezed along Via Nazionale, an old Roman boulevard that pierces through the heart of the government center at 0730 Mon morn.

Perhaps folks in business suits to working suits were just diving back to the work week after a weekend of rest and mass.

But for whatever reason, on this cool, crisp eve of December morning, there were no runners, no, not even joggers out to celebrate the dawn of a new workweek or for me to work off the drunk of a long weekend.

So, I took in early Monday morning Rome all to myself--the Piazza (Venizia) in all its Monday morning grandeur, the Colisseum, which over the last 20 immortal centuries has seen many, perhaps millions of chariot racers, but maybe not nearly as many runners, the Roman Forum where not even my brand new, sparkling running shoes could kick start the Imperial winged-god of Nike to inspire 21st century Romans to participate in man's most primitive sport.

Rome may not be a city for runners, but it is indeed a city to run in. Well, why not for the scores of foothills that teases my legs to shove through, for the bascilica-studded boulevards that pumps a vibrant heartbeat to my heartstream, for the cafe-coddeled cobblestone streets that feels light, moist, and dense--enticing me to further whip off my shoes and run barefoot under the arch of Constantine, just like the ancient Romans did during their spectator-thronged games--do I need to add more?

And the answer did not come freely as I trounced through historic hills laced with ancient clay. But it did flow more freely along with the double-sized mug of frosty draft that unfailably made my stromboli taste like real Italian, the zesty peppers and spicy sausages as if Michelangelo had painted them himself on the ceiling of my mind.

As I took another slice of pizza, loaded with portabellas and zuchini; and as I washed that morsel down with just one more overflowing mug of beer, I looked out my window and screened a mass of pedestrians--all Italian and my guess all authentic lovers of Italian food. They were young, old, my age, guy and girl--diverse in sex and soul but not really in shape and size. And as I took, really my last bite of anchovy and kissed my last pluck of brown olive wrapped in artichoke heart, I digested the sheer fact that these individuals--all more than likely strangers--shared something completely in common.

There were no buckles busting from the seams of gentlemen's waistline like Vesuvius erupting at Pompei.


Instead, I gandered at studded shapes adorned on symmetrical frames chiseled with Italian chins and Mediterranean brows -- that was the common consensus whether young, medium, or old.

This wholesome look did not discriminate either--old, medium or young--it was the look of fresh tomatoes alongside a healthy serving of creamy cottage cheese, baked fresh on a thin slice of flatbread, then sprinkled freely with arregano and mozarella.

Then as I savored my very last gulp of overchilled Italian fresca it exuded warmth like the realization that I finally found the distant truth that indeed Italians and particularly the Romans simply did not have to run. The god of Janus or the goddess of Minerva had somehow blessed them with the flannel and physique of a Roman warrior, or perhaps it was the fact that they were descendants of Romus and Remus, the founding brothers of Rome: who were abandoned by the Tigres River and raised on the milk of wild wolves.

So here you have it -- the answer to life's puzzle--Romans don't run because they don't have to. And the view is just as lovely, and in fact more spectacular if you just go slow.

Boarding plane now to Germany--and yes there's lots of runners there.

12/1/08

Romus Magnificus







Only one word can describe what I laid eyes on today -- no, not incredible: "Magnificus"

Rome has shaped up to be by far the most beautiful European city I've visited this year--and this is my 4th trip to Europe since last Dec.

And the Colosseum is just breathlessly amazing in it's astronomical feat of engineering and even more amazing that it's still around and in great shape after over 2000 years.

Couldn't believe what laid in front and all around me -- the ancient city of Rome in all it's grandeur and imagined in my minds eye Julius Caesar or King Augustus addressing the crowds in the Roman forum.

Indeed my visit to ancient Rome and my run around the ruins of Palatino has been the highlight of my European vacation and has definitely been the most inspiring and uplifting.

What is the lesson -- that remains to be seem -- but I know I can take what Rome has taught me (that if we dont learn from our mistakes, we are destined to repeat iit) for a very long time, if not a lifetime.

During my tour, I was amazed and saddened to hear about how the Christians were persecuted  in the hands of the authorities of the Roman Empire.  In fact thousands of Christians were martyred by Emperor Nero who blamed Christianity for the great fire of Rome.  Refusal to worship the Roman emperor was considered treasonous and punishable by execution.  Christians were tortured, burned, starved and even forced to gladiatorial contests to amuse spectators.  

That was until Emperor Constantine was exposed to Christianity by his mother, Helena.  Constantine followed Christianity after experiencing a dramatic event at a battle when he looked up to the sun and saw a cross of light.  He would eventually claim the emperorship in the West.

Off to Germany tomorrow after an inspiring morning run.