The ruins of the Roman Forum felt like Central Park to me. The silent tourists walking the directed and clear cut paths were all too familiar. No New Yorkers go to Central Park just to walk around. Unless we are working out. So basically, I never go. The gaggles of Italian youth learning about their heritage reminded me of a fourth grade trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The bus was late picking us up, so we all just played in Central Park and learned about the monuments. That is the only reason I know about any statues there.
The streets of the Roman Forum have encountered many historically famous footsteps; but, today, they felt trampled upon as children screamed and our group sluggishly slid through the drizzling rain and humidity. But, even through the sore feet and waning interest, the historical excitement gets me every time. Earlier, when we stood where the statues of Cleopatra, Venus and Caesar were in the Temple of Venus Genetrix, I could feel the deceitful and crazy energy of the golden idol to Cleopatra surging through my feet, and not just the broken one. The same goes for the Forum. The hustle and bustle of the daily life of the ancient Roman was present, even through all the distractions. Sunburn aside, it was a wonderful introduction.
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