Antiquity in Italics

Antiquities and ruins intrigue me. Not in the sense of time, though that is incredibly humbling, the continuity of human endeavor stretching back past the edge of what is conceivable. It is the mystery of what survives, the how, and more importantly to me, the why. Itálica poses these questions.

Itálica survives. Excavations reveal stone, mosaics, statues, house foundations, plumbing, the things of everyday life needed in a novus urbs (new city) of 206 BC. Its 25,000 seat coliseum, used for games and theatre, nestles against a small hill. Like a modern theatre, or a bullring, it reveals its backstage intricacies--tunnels, wings, and mysterious engraved footprints at one entrance. What did vendors sell here?







Up the hillside from the coliseum, a small Roman town reveals itself, signage interpreting the platting of the streets and the design of buildings. Foundation vents and recesses for marble walls in the foundations speak of early methods for coping with the region´s intense heat. Underground plumbing tells the engineering story of baths and fresh water taps. Lead pipes tell the human story of lower classes dying because wine is too expensive to drink.



School children populate the streets again, crowned in laurel leaves and tiaras.



Lying dormant, concealed by dirt of the centuries, amazing mosaic floors remain at Itálica. Tiny bits of glazed ceramic piece together images of sights unseen, Roman gods and goddesses and African jungle animals, including hippo, ibex, and crocodile. Excavation continues as does conservation. Floors retire from view under a fresh layer of dirt, like crops rotated seasonally.







Other odd bits of emphemera rest hidden in drawers and lockers at the archeological museum of Sevilla. Arms, heads, and of course, genitalia of Roman statues lie locked away from public view, victims of a prudish Spanish ruler. Few statues remain in situ. They, and other bits and pieces of Itálica, find their way into the buildings of Sevilla. A marble column serves as a corner bumper for a building. Millstones support weighty stone walls. Trips down small calles reveal Itálica as one grand recycling center.



Built as a retirement town for Roman soldiers, Itálica falls victim to nature. The Rio Guadalquivir meanders away, leaving the town literally high and dry. A new novus urbs grows at the base of the hill and serves as the foundation for subsequent towns, including the current Santiponce.

Itálica, built on a rock, survives as one answer to one why.