Another Travel Writing Assignment

Spirit of Place

My hands gripped tightly at the iron railing as we descended further and further down the moss-covered steps. My feet quivered in my tightly laced sneakers as I thought of the painful death that would surely come if I were to fall now. When my feet hit the dusty bottom of the Colosseum’s basement, relief flooded my body at the same time the sound of water reached my ears. Tall support pillars surrounded our group as we followed our guide through a maze of green, deteriorating walls. Reaching the opposite end of the Colosseum’s floor our guide pointed toward a large, dark cavern that once was a holding cage for the wild animals ready to be released into the spectator’s games. Gazing at that dark place of fear and anxiety, the spirit of place hit me so hard I nearly crumpled at the knees.

Thousands of years ago, in this dank place, men had prepared themselves for battle against the unknown forces of nature.  While we as humans constantly prepare for this battle against nature, nature remains the innocent.

Stories of pain and fear seeped from the surrounding walls, witnesses to the gruesome events that once took place here. My quivering feet begin to twitch for another reason. The soul of this place is dark and I attempt to keep my feet from fleeing.

Although I have encountered the spirit of place in many other less depressing places, I have always been absorbed by a great sense of history. The spirit of place for me is created by the events and people who once stood in the same position that I now stand. Although life pulses through the Italian streets I walk every day, I cannot escape the spirit of those who are now gone, those whose stories were never told. Perhaps these phantoms are trying now to tell me their stories, but unfortunately I don’t speak their home language.