Rome is called the Eternal City, and for good reason. For over two thousand years, Rome has stood as a dominant city in the realm of European politics and society. A stroll through Rome is a stroll through a modern metropolis, but it is also a trip back in time, a voyage through the echoes of history. It is a whisper of one of the world's most powerful empires and arguably the most influential force in Western civilization.

This was the theme of our first day in the capital of Italy. A sojourn through the ancient core of Rome, past monuments and ruins, surveying the remnants of the Roman Empire. Despite a rocky night of sleep sporatically interrupted by drunken revellers entering and exiting my hostel room, I managed to rise out of bed at 7:00 in the morning, take a shower, and meet my travel companions at 7:45.

For the next two weeks, I would be tagging along with my friends Andrea and Jill, two close fellow graduates from USC who had been talking about this trip for years and planning it for months. This was their first time in Europe. This was our first time in Italy. Excited and eager for the start of what would surely be a fantastic vacation, we set out for our first destination: the Colosseum.

The largest sporting amphitheater in the Roman Empire, the Colosseum was begun under the emperor Vespasian and completed under the reign of Titus. Although today, it is a shell of its once former glory, it still commands quite a presence all around it.

For us, the Colosseum was a twelve minute walk down the street my hostel was on (Via Buonarroti, which then turned into Via Angelo Poliziano), then right through Parco di Traiano. As we walked over the slight hill on Trajan's Park (I believe that's the translation), the Roman icon rose up to greet us, looming grandly in the distance, confident of its own monumentality. If it hadn't struck us before, it certainly struck us then.

"We're in Europe!!!" Jill squealed merrily, with all the delight of a [transplanted] Angelino suddenly released into a city with substance and history. Indeed, there it was in all its massive grandeur: the Colosseum, past home to gladiator bouts, simulated naval wars, rallying political speeches, and other public spectacles of the time. There it was, just as I'd seen in countless books, aged, slightly ruined, yet still imposing. Imagine what a sight this must have been two thousand years ago when it was new and shiny!

My camera immediately went to work, clicking away with the carefree precision of an instrument designed to capture scenes and memories.

We walked around the ancient stadium for about half an hour to fully appreciate all of its angles. Besides, the Colosseum didn't open until 8:30. Once it did, though, we were quickly inside, having purchased our admission for 11 euro--a somewhat steep price, except it also included admission to Palantine Hill.

Somehow, the interior felt a lot smaller. It felt downright cozy, actually. In today's age of super-mega-sports-stadiums that carved out cavernous spaces even on the playing fields, I had become used to a sporting venue that was mammoth in size and scope in every possible way. It took me a moment to remember that even though the Romans were great engineers and builders, even they had limits, and even though an amphitheater such as this was enormous from the outside, once one factored in the terracing seating and structural requirements inside, there was only so big an actual performance surface could be.

That didn't prevent the inside of the Colosseum from being any less impressive, however. It was fascinating to see most of the ground level open, exposing the underground tunnels, holding rooms, and infrastructure that housed the gladiators and animals that fought there. And glancing up at the crumbling upper levels of the stadium, I imagined how amazing it would be to actually see the upper decks, to truly understand how large this structure really was. Fifty thousand people might not seem like a lot of capacity today, especially since a USC football game at the Coliseum in Los Angeles can net over ninety thousand screaming Trojan fans, but considering this was built two millennia ago, it certainly was quite an accomplishment.

We strolled around the perimeter of the Colosseum, deftly sidestepping tour groups and making our own casual way around the oval layout. Within half an hour, we felt that we had properly taken everything in. Next was the Roman Forum and Palantine Hill.

The Forum is, of course, famous for its many ruins, be they columnar remnants of temples of just random pieces of frieze or stone bases lying around. Palantine Hill, on the other hand, is actually believed to be the historical origin of Rome, well before its days as the heart of an empire. Although the development of Rome into an empire basically wiped out any traces of the early settlements, this was still an interesting tidbit to know.

Our walk through Palantine Hill and the Forum was eclectic, if only because we just kept on running into random ruins. Turn the corner... a piece of Corinthian capital. Across from this little fence... fragments of an arch. Behind those trees... a cylindrical piece of an Ionic column. Next to these ruins... more ruins. This fact made us giggle over and over again. Where else but in Rome could one literally stumble upon a two thousand year old artifact lying right there next to the street? This reality humored us throughout the morning as we made our way around.

Another aspect of the city (and all of Italy, really) that amazed us (especially Jill) was the colors of the buildings. I had run into this before... somewhat... in France. My stay in Saintes had left me quite charmed by the clay roofs that covered houses everywhere, big and small. The earthy texture of the city roofscape was definitely something I had never experienced in Los Angeles, where the American pining for free space and open land meant that houses could never achieve the intimate density that thrived in Europe. Yet, in France, houses tend to be light colored--taking on the hue of whatever limestone was quarried to build them. Italy, on the other hand, is filled with flowery, warm tones of yellow, sepia, salmon, and brick, all blending together to create a hearty contrast to the green vegetation and blue skies of the natural environment. This medley of colors comes off quite pleasingly to the eye and is--I submit--an integrally subliminal part of the romantic allure of European villages and architecture.

After the more tranquil stroll around Palantine Hill, we made our way back down the more tourist-friendly Roman Forums, aka history's littering ground. Those random ruins I had mentioned before were in full force here. Veritable armies of broken down stone and columns and statues stood strewn about, almost like a ragtag camp, lying casually for all to observe. Some were even right in the middle of paths and could be sat on or lain upon. Imagine that... taking a nap on a two thousand year-old artifact.

No, we still hadn't gotten over the giddiness that comes with experiencing history firsthand.

We were making fast time on the day. During planning, we had allotted one and a half days just for the ancient core, but it wasn't even noon and we were more than halfway done with the places we had wanted to visit! With this in mind, we decided to slow our pace a little bit and amble more. I led Andrea and Jill off a side street and around to the northern perimeter of the Forum, toward Trajan's Market. There was a method to this somewhat circuitous route. The last item on our list was Vittorio Emanuelle II, which I knew was going to be incredibly massive and astounding. My goal was to avoid coming around to a point with a direct view for as long as I could, to build up suspense to the approach.

I wasn't completely sure what to expect with the market, having only skimmed through the guide book description without really processing any of the information. I suppose I at least expected something resembling structure. Instead, there was a long excavated pit with several columns and a lot more--that's right--random pieces of ruins. I confess I was slightly disappointed, but that feeling washed over when I realized exactly what I was starting at--a pit. A descent in elevation. Ground level for the Romans. Ground level that was a full story below current ground level.

This got me thinking. Most European cities are built in levels. With so much history, it is inevitable that a city in its current manifestation will built upon the ruins of its previous form, which are most likely built upon an earlier version, and so on. What we consider underground today was actually above ground hundreds or thousands of years ago. But over time, cities have melted away into the strata of earth, forming layers of history within the ground not unlike geological bands found in canyons and valleys. To observe this firsthand and realize it at the same time... that was an interesting moment. It was almost like having an epiphany, except without the angelic choir and momentary euphoria of personal enlightenment. Nevertheless, I paused for a moment and went, "hmph."

Eventually, the "elephant in the city" (if you could call it that; if so, it would have to be a smooth, white, elegantly titanic elephant with lots and lots of stairs) could not be ignored, and we made our way around to Piazza Venezia to gaze upon the Monument to Vittorio Emanuelle II, unifier of Italy and titan of Rome.

Grand?  Most definitely. Even though I had been expecting it, the monumentality of the architecture still took my breath away, at least for a moment. Andrea and Jill seemed to agree with equal brevity.

"Wow," was our universal comment.

I've never been to Washington D.C., but I imagine this must be a similar feeling to standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial. We, as people, are conditioned to measure everything based upon our scale. We base our evaluation of size from our own sizes. And from our experiences, we also form opinions on "how big" various things in life "should be." A column is maybe as wide as we are. A tree is several times as tall as we are. A door also a person to comfortably pass through without having to squeeze or duck.

Now, when we see these same elements scaled bigger or stretched taller... that's when a sense of monumentality kicks in, and we can't help but gape in awe at the overpowering extravagance of it all.

There was just one problem. A significant portion of it was under refurbishment. A huge curtain was draped over most of the top part of the front, shielding the facade. Unfortunately, this reduced what would have otherwise been an overly impressive effect. And much to Jill's frustration, this whole reality of major Italian attractions under partial refurbishment would become a trend throughout our trip.

We had lunch before we actually went through Vittorio Emanuelle II, followed by our first gelato of the trip. I paid two euros for a cone of tiramisu, which was as delicious as advertised. Only later would I find out that this was actually a bit pricey for gelato, but at the time, it seemed decently comparable to, say, something from Coldstones.

Once we went up the steps of Vittorio Emanuelle II, we discovered a most peculiar thing. Apparently, people can rest on old ruins, litter on the ground, and walk across a street whenever they wanted, but there was absolutely no form of besmirching allowed on the pride monument of the city. As strictly stated on the set of rules right in front of the gate, sitting on the steps was absolutely forbidden, as was drinking or eating anything. Furthermore, as we discovered, standing on an elevated block was also prohibited, as was sitting on something that looked like a bench, but was apparently not.

The guardians of these rules are short, elderly officers with whistles who dispense with shrill, machine gun style shrieks whenever anyone does anything remotely forbidden. Andrea found this out when an officer rushed up blowing his whistle because she was sitting off to the side. Later on, while Jill and I were resting on a bench, another officer eyed us warily, as though we were sinisterly plotting to split the monument asunder. Get too close to a roped off area? Whistle! Take a swig of water from a water bottle? Whistle! And these officers seemed to revel in their power. Curmudgeons with alarms, they took way to much pleasure in tweeting tourists away. Compared to these folks, the student Department of Public Safety officers at USC who bark at students to walk their bikes seem relatively chill.

A second thing to note about Vittorio Emanuelle II: it has a lot of stairs.  As it turned out, this would be the first of many stair climbing experiences, but at the start of our vacation, we were not quite prepared for all those flights of stairs.

"Man, if this monument was ever invaded, the attacking soldiers would have a helluva time getting up," I remarked. "They'd probably be gasping for breath halfway up, wondering who in the world decided all these stairs was necessary."

Not missing a beat, Jill chimed in, "Yeah, and when they sat down, an old man with a whistle would come charging at them, blowing away, forcing them to continue invading despite being exhausted!"

The view from the top of the monument orients guests up Via del Corso, a two-lane street that is actually one of the more prominent "boulevards" in the city. I couldn't quite figure out why this was such an important axis, however, until I looked at my map and saw that I was apparently looking at Piazza del Popolo. Too bad it didn't have any prominent monument to mark the alignment. At least in Paris, the axis of the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe to the Grande Arche is visibly anchored by those monuments. Here? Not so much. So that was perplexing to me, from an urbanistic standpoint.

Our last stop of the day took us by the Circus Maximus, ancient home to chariot races and such. Located just south of Palantine Hill, this half-mile long swath of land was supposed to be a ruined race track. Instead, it was more like this:

I was amused. Jill and Andrea were downright bitter.

"That's it?!" Andrea exclaimed.  "It's just a stupid park with a dusty track!!"

"Where are the broken down chariots and horse bones?" Jill demanded.

I chuckled. Rusty chariots and equine remains... I had to admit that such a display would have been more interesting. Having been spoiled by the charms of the Forum and Palantine Hill, Circus Maximus was definitely disappointing, especially to end the day. Then again, you can't have everything. So we walked the half mile course to the other side, then continued our way back home to rest.

Later in the night, we stopped by the Colosseum to see it at night (and so I could take photos). It was pretty nifty, though not as stunningly lit as I had envisioned.

All in all, however, we had crafted quite a busy day and covered a lot of sights, all on foot. Not a bad way to spend a first day in the Eternal City.

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For more photos of Rome, check out my Facebook photo albums:
ROME [PART 1]
ROME [PART 2]
ROME [PART 3]