ROME: February, 2003 (Part 1)

Once a week, on his Sunday off, I would convince William to get out of bed, out of the hotel and into the world. Without my nagging, he'd be content to sleep until lunch, order room service, play a game of Scrabble, watch the hotel's American ESPN feed, and return to bed. I understood his exhaustion, but wouldn't have it.

One afternoon we left the Excelsior for lunch, with plans to explore the Colosseum and the Roman Forum afterwards. As we left the subway station and approached the imposing structure of the ancient Colosseum, we were greeted by the sight of beefcake boys dressed up as gladiators. For a fee one could have a photo taken with one of these cheesy Ben-Hur movie extras. They were encouraging young and old alike to step into a prop chariot and paste on smiles with them. I thought about my previous visit here, blissfully devoid of gladiator wannabes.

Once inside the Colosseum, I recalled how I sat almost entirely alone on a sunny November day way back when, eating my picnic lunch while envisioning the hugely popular and ghastly battles of the first and second centuries.

Now, many years later, the Colosseum and the Roman Forum were undergoing restoration. I'm all for supporting the crumbling walls of historic structures and it irked me that fools felt the need to spray them with graffiti and make off with whole chunks of two thousand-year-old stone.

But beside the scaffolding I saw a sign advertising a musical performance. Right here, inside the Colosseum. Nooooo....

All around us, other tourists and families traipsed by, licking their scoops of chocolate gelato. Talking, talking, talking. The lack of quiet interrupted my thoughts and I couldn't imagine anything beyond the hubbub in front of me. The structure was still impressive but not as evocative.

Same deal with the Roman Forum. We did manage to duck the crowds by climbing up narrow pathways through gardens and into a neighborhood of ruins above what was once old Rome. From our perch we looked below into the downtown area, where Julius Caesar had once made political speeches. Where the man foolishly ignored both the Ides of March and the admonitions of his wife and walked straight into a flurry of daggers. He fell dead at the statue of his archenemy, Pompey.

Should have listened to the wife.