Itálica

I am happy to say that today is the first day I haven't felt like throwing up at some point during a meal. Well so far, but I'm going to Burger King for dinner so I'm pretty sure I can make it the whole day. I haven't had much sleep in the last few days and I may be going completely insane but other than that I'm doing alright. I miss people at home that I can't talk to but I guess that comes with the whole being however many thousand miles away that I am. Unfortunately school starts tomorrow, but that just means that I have to go sit from 15:00 to 18:00 through a class (Intensive Advanced Spanish Grammar...also known as Spanish 320 at home, but doubtfully taught by a professor as amazing as Sayo Murcia) that I've already taken at U of O. Maybe I'll remember the stuff so well this time that I can teach it when I return. I wish sarcasm was more recognizable on paper/screen.

Well today we went to this ruined former Roman town outside of Sevilla (like 25 min away) called Itálica. From roughly 200AD, or BCE if you want to be politically correct, the town's ruins contain the Spanish equivalent of the Roman Coliseum.  While it was pretty damn amazing, the majority of the tour was boring and filled with looking at the first two and a half feet of ruined walls of homes and imaginary stair cases. Unbelievably, Itálica is the more recent edition to the "city." The older part is still buried under a newer town which is currently inhabited.

The Coliseum was the clear highlight and main attraction of my trip to Itálica. If I heard (and translated) correctly, the Coliseum was at times able to hold up to twenty five thousand spectators (apparently third most in the Roman empire) which were divided by social status. We were explained that when large amounts of people would come (many by horse), the gladiators would be told something along the lines of "hacen mierda," (they make shit... more or less there are a lot of people coming) because the enormous piles of horse shit would pile up and would stink the place up. This shit smell apparently also led to nervous breakdowns amongst gladiators and to the binging and purging of food in order to avoid an appearance and more than likely a death in front of enormous crowds. The whole time I was there I was thinking about how weird it was that a place were thousands of people were pretty much brutally murdered.

I'm about to take my siesta and I hope its a long one so I don't need to be awake as long and so I can catch up on sleep. But anyways, here are some pictures from Itálica:

When a gladiator would win, a symbolic representation of his feet would be made into a mold alongside those of a god (they were pagan if u didn't know).

Above: My friend Carlos and I on the hill above the ruins. To the Right Up/down: different views of stands/fighting grounds.   

Me getting ready to fight a lion, or two.

 Underground area used for holding animals and gladiators before battle.

My friend Jeff being hit on by some girl that asked for a photo and said they had met before, they hadn't.

Above and below: Tunnels and holding areas for gladiators.

I look pretty gay in this photo.

Most of the columns had fallen, but this one is a trooper.

Alright well I've had way to much trouble trying to post this. Have a good one. I love you.