Acta Non Est Fabula

« Mille viae ducunt homines per saecula Romam »[1] or better known in its simplified, Plebeian expression: « All roads lead to Rome » is perhaps the dullest, most over-used quote on Rome. Nevertheless, it bears an undeniable truth: Rome is the heart of Europe, and also functions as such; a civilized and civil-sized pump that is kept alive by the constant flow of curious travellers and carefree wanderers. Its glamor as strong as Earth’s gravitational force, its allurement as bright as a thousand suns, and its magnitude as natural as the course of time. Rome is intertwined with history and vice versa.

As every Muslim is obliged to visit Mecca at least once in their lifetime, as such should a visit to Rome equally be encouraged. Let’s call it a Western Hajj, a hereditary obligation to honour those to whom we owe everything, and almost everyone. And even if your motives aren’t culturally grounded, hedonistically driven, or even randomly chosen, Rome should be on top of your bucket list.

From a romanticized portray of the gladiator lifestyle, to a TV show about the most scrupulous and defining era in Roman history. From « panem et circenses », to « horum omnium fortissimi sunt Belgae». From the legendary twin brothers, Romulus and Remus, in 753 BC, to the last Roman emperor, Romulus Augustus, in 476 AD. Rome’s history reads like a non-fiction suspense novel. The similarities with Game of Thrones are unmistakably: a lot of blood, violence, intrigues, and the ventilation of almost all primal instincts and carnal desires. But in the margin of all that gruesomeness, the first million-city was born. What is it about this city that is as mythical as the story behind its name?

Cruising on a Vespa through the biggest outdoor museum on Earth is like watching time fly by (do mind the reckless drivers and negligent pedestrians while you are at it). It’s the best way to get the most out of your visit. However, if you want to plunge deeper into the ocean of Roman history, I recommend going on foot; do as the Romans did it. It’s the only way to inhale the ever-present magical atmosphere of the Eternal City swirling through the air like the smell of freshly cooked ragù alla Bolognese. Passing by the iconic buildings and monumental artefacts that Rome is dotted with, I always get overwhelmed reminiscing about the fact that the likes of Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Augustus, Petrus, or – in more recent times – Napoleon, used to walk along the same dirty Tiber, visited the same grotesque monuments, and enjoyed the same comforting warmth of the sun on their skin.

It’s a difficult, yet exciting thinking exercise picturing these god-like figures in flesh and blood, thereby transcending them from your textbook onto the actual stage where they thrived and/or died. It invokes a tantalizing feeling. A feeling that especially rushed me when I was standing on the rostra looking over the Forum Romanum, with the Colosseum rising in the distance. I could hardly begin to imagine the scenes that must’ve taken place here. Intrigued by the life and times of Marcus Tullius Cicero, I recalled reading that this was the pulpit on which he used to address the people of Rome. But it was also the stage on which Marc Antony showcased Cicero’s decapitated head and hands following his betrayal. It proves that Rome’s grandeur was also wrapped in a lugubrious dark ribbon.

Rome’s first stone was laid in 753 BC. Since then, it has been a permissive hostess on many occasions: it has witnessed a mass abduction of Sabine women; it has once been saved by the cackling of sacred geese; it has tolerated the reign of numerous tyrants and countless kings, consuls, and emperors; it has seen elephants parading in front of her walls; it has been sacked and liberated multiple times – even by her own kin; it has been burnt to the ground and then built back up; it has seen her slaves riot against her, fail, and being crucified all along the Via Appia; it has contributed to the fall, survival, and rise of Christianity; it has been the scene of epic battles, triumphs and speeches; it has supported the building of churches, theatres, columns, basilisks and obelisks; simply: it has fed the history books with more stories than we can keep track of. It has seen it all once before, and will see it all once again; « Ipsa historia repetit ».

Rome serves as a collective memory of our history: a library without books, a museum without a roof, a life lesson without a teacher. Free to enter, difficult to leave. It can endure the continuous trampling of human feet and bulldozing of spinning wheels, but at least we must return the favour by being aware of its significance. As Augustus once famously said: « I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble ». We should keep it that way.

[1] A thousand roads lead men forever to Rome.