Lost in the Catacombs

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We hit the hotel breakfast room at rush hour. There are lots of people, but no plates, glasses, bowls, cutlery, or anywhere to sit. We get by by stealing some glasses and spoons from the bar in the next room.

This morning we've booked a tour to some catacombs. Our guide is an American art historian named Jeanette. She's not vertically challenged, although this time it's less of an issue; we're in a bus, which should hopefully make it a bit harder for us to lose her.

The Catacombs Di San Callisto are just outside the city. Jeanette tells us that the Romans weren't allowed to bury their dead in Rome. They were worried about the smell of decaying bodies and disease, and cremation hadn't yet taken off. This suited the early Christians, who were keen bury their dead with their bodies in tact, as they believed that they would enter the afterlife in the same form as they died. They held funerals in the catacombs, but it also gave them a chance to hold other ceremonies such as masses and baptisms underground in secret, where there was less risk of persecution. This particular set of catacombs has nearly 20 kilometres of tunnels, and is on five levels, so roughly as deep as the height of a five storey building. The tunnels were hand excavated in the soft soil, which was fortunately still solid enough to be self supporting. Sixteen early popes were originally buried here, but their remains were later relocated to Saint Peter's Basilica. The catacombs were eventually abandoned and forgotten for many centuries. They were only rediscovered in the 19th century when sheep and farmers started disappearing into deep holes in their paddocks.

Jeanette is a very interactive guide. She likes to ask us lots of questions as she goes and she then uses our answers to illustrate points in her commentary. Our tour group has about twenty people and about half of them are Aussies. While we're waiting to go in, she asks all of us our names. She repeats mine back as "Dive". All the Aussies think this is very funny. I'm very embarrassed. I think maybe I should consider investing in some elocution lessons when we get home.

Jeanette asks us where we're going next after Rome, and we tell her Florence. She says it will be about five degrees hotter there, and will be "like a furnace". It's 40 degrees here. We've booked an all day walking tour in Florence for the day after tomorrow. If it's 45 I doubt we'll survive. I wonder how our offspring will cope without us.

We descend into the catacombs via some steep steps. It's cool underground, which is a welcome relief. There seem to be passages and rooms going in all directions. There are holes of various sizes dug into the walls which we're told were used as tombs for either individuals or family groups. The bodies were washed, embalmed with oil, and wrapped in linen, before being interred. The burial was then completed by sealing the holes with marble slabs. Each tomb was marked with the person's name, occupation, and the exact duration of their life, to the nearest hour. I wonder how they knew this. I suspect the ancient Romans might have been a bit overly obsessive with their record keeping. We're not allowed to take photos, which is a bit disappointing.

The holes don't look big enough for an average adult. Jeanette then explains that the average Roman man was only 4 foot 10 inches tall, and the average woman only 4 foot 2. She tells Issy that at her height she would have been regarded as an Amazon. Apparently I would have been regarded as a freak and would have scared everyone off. Some would say I still have this effect now.

Most girls got married at 13 or 14 to men who were about 24 or 25. Jeanette asks us how we think most woman would have died. We respond correctly that this would have been in child birth. Most women got pregnant on average once per year and if they were lucky they survived enough multiple child births to get to about 20. The infant mortality rate was about 40 per cent. We're told that the average man lived to about 40, and 45 if he was really lucky. She asks us how we think most of the men would have died. The most common answers are from disease, and as a result of battles. She gets to Issy who says "from too much sex". Everyone laughs. I wonder where that came from? What's happened to my shy bride? Apparently Roman women didn't have too many rights. Family inheritance could only be passed to males, and sons were first in line, followed by sons-in-law. If a Roman only had unmarried daughters his estate went to the state, and the daughters got nothing.

One of the Australian ladies faints, so Jeanette heads up the surface to get help. I hope she can find her way back. I wouldn't like our chances of trying to find our way out of here by ourselves.

Next stop is a section of the original Appian Way, which was a 500 kilometre long Roman road from the capital to the southern end of Italy. It was built mainly to speed up communication and so that soldiers could get to the southern ports relatively quickly. It was exactly 14 feet wide so that it could accommodate rows of seven men. Ordinary Romans could also use it, but soldiers had priority. I suspect the sight of row after row of soldiers marching along here might have been just a tad intimidating for the locals, even if they were 4 foot 10 midgets. The road is also famous for its role in the life of the slave gladiator Spartacus, who rebelled against the empire's treatment of his fellow gladiators. He and 6,000 of his followers were eventually defeated by the Roman army, and they were then all crucified along the Appian Way as a message to citizens about what happens to you if you rebel against the state. I'm starting to sense the Roman rulers might have been quite big on intimidation.

Next stop is a Roman aqueduct. This was an extraordinary feat of precision engineering. We're told that it carried large volumes of water nearly 30 kilometres with a drop in level of less than a metre. The water was apparently used in Rome's many bath houses. Jeanette asks the group what we think the bath houses would have been mostly used for. Common answers included bathing and swimming, but Issy comes out with "aqua aerobics". Again everyone laughs. I thought she had the same breakfast as me, but now I'm not so sure. She's been anointed the class clown.

The aqueduct is next to one of Italy's relatively rare golf courses. Jeanette says that Italians don't have the temperament to play golf. I think I might be part Italian.

We have a short siesta before setting off for some more sightseeing, and to see if we can find a shop that might sell a replacement for Issy's lost camera charger. I've identified three potential targets on the Internet, and these are the only listed camera shops anywhere near us. A sign on the door of the first one says that it's moved to the suburbs. The second one's also relocated, and the third one's door is boarded up. This is a bit frustrating. I know we weren't allowed to take photos in the catacombs, but I'm now beginning to wonder whether this ban might have recently been extended to the whole city.

Next stop is the Pantheon temple. This was completed in around 120 AD and has been in continuous use as a church since about the 7th century AD. It's one of ancient Rome's best preserved buildings. It's particularly remarkable for still having the largest unreinforced concrete dome roof of any building in the world, 2,000 years after it was built.

We move on to the Trevi Fountain. We've been looking forward to this, but it seems we're going to be disappointed. It's being renovated and there's no water in it. We throw our coins over a wall onto a concrete slab. This is not quite what we'd hoped for. Last stop for the day is the Spanish Steps.

We decide to make our way back to the hotel on the Metro. It's peak hour on a weekday and the trains are ridiculously crowded. It's a struggle to squeeze on, but it seems that the fun's just begun. The doors open at the next stop, and we're pushed, shoved and elbowed as more passengers try to force themselves into the already packed carriage. I think peak hour train travel here might be quite a hazardous occupation. I wonder how they go getting the injured up into ambulances.

We've arranged to meet Issy's cousin Sandra and her family for dinner. We attempt to cross the road at the pedestrian crossing in front of our hotel. As usual no one even looks remotely interested in slowing down for us. We decide to wait for a break in the traffic. After a while we see a group of nuns start to cross from the other side, and everything immediately screeches to a sudden halt. It seems that running nuns over at pedestrian crossings is not considered acceptable behaviour. I make a mental note to try to find some nuns next time we want to cross a road. We have a very pleasant dinner with Sandra and co at an alfresco restaurant next to Piazza Navona.

Issy reads yesterday's blog and hits me. I wonder what I've done wrong this time. She tells me that my blogging needs to be much more accurate. She says I wrote that we both had siestas yesterday afternoon, whereas in reality only I had a siesta while she stayed wide awake. I realise again that blogging is a minefield and that it can blow up in your face when you least expect it. I decide to try to be much more careful with my facts, particularly important ones like who slept when.

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'Dive'your blog makes me lauh out loud !!