That Time I Became a Gladiator in Spain

It was the hottest day of the year and because it was August, all of Spain was closed. “Where does one get food around here?” I mumbled. The streets were like a ghost town. The few people out, probably other American tourists, were huddled in the limited shady spots checking their phones, most likely also looking for any place that might serve food and drinks. I wasn’t alone in my frustrations. The kids were whining and begging to go back to the car. My mother-in-law was quiet and baffled that businesses were closed in peak tourist season. Our hunger levels and the heaviness of the heat had thrust us quickly into the “hangry” scenario. We were on the verge of sharing hurtful words that could never be withdrawn. It is not a situation one wants to be in with their mother-in-law or their kids.

Spain is beautiful. Spain in August on the hottest day of the year during afternoon siesta is borderline torture. On a normal day in Spain, cafes close in the afternoon for siesta with a few offering only drinks. In August? Businesses choose to close for weeks. It’s holiday time in all of Europe. Everyone is at the beach. Who in their right mind goes to see ancient Roman ruins in the hot and dry Extremadura region of Spain in August? Oh. Right. We do.

Our quest for food is pointless. Even the two cafes we manage to find aren’t serving food. They offer no sympathy, just looks of annoyance at our lack of planning. We make our way up the main street back to the entire reason for our visit to Mérida, Spain: the Roman ruins. The visitor center is open but even the few staff working are surprised that anyone is visiting in this sweltering heat. We buy our tickets and make our way back outside to see these ruins. “These better be worth it,” I think.

Mérida is the capital city of the Extremadura region and home to some of the best preserved Roman ruins in Europe. Ruins that date back to 25 BCE, a time that my mind struggles to comprehend. We walk a narrow pathway, following the arrows that denote the correct route. Stone surrounds us and a sign informs us that the path we are on used to be the road around the Roman Amphitheater. The rather large stone formations sticking up along the path were the speed bumps. I guess those carts and chariots moved pretty quickly and the Romans developed a transportation solution still used today–though not in stone form, thankfully. Our path narrows between two walls and then just beyond that is the first major sight of the museum: the amphitheater.

Sweat is dripping into my eyes. My clothes are soaked through and the mid-day sun is beating down on my pale skin but even in this heat I appreciate the sight in front of me. We briefly skim the information posts and move along quickly in order to find shade. Our path leads us to a dark tunnel. At first it looks like a large pizza oven–perhaps this heat is starting to actually bake me. But upon entry, we are welcomed with a pleasant drop in temperature. We linger for a bit letting our bodies cool down and sip what’s left of our lukewarm water.

Exiting the tunnel we enter the main floor of the arena and my imagination immediately takes over. Maybe the heat and hunger are causing hallucinations but I swear I see Russell Crowe in full Gladiator gear at the opposite end of the arena. I squint, both from the sun and sweat in my eyes, to rid myself of this image. But the sights and sounds around me are changing and it’s clear I’m no longer in present day. A Murmillo gladiator, dressed in his loin cloth, a ridiculous fish hat adorning his head and wielding his long shield is approaching the arena. Chants of “Kill him!” and “Pardon him!” are coming from all directions. I’ve traveled back in time and as luck would have it, have found myself in the middle of a gladiator battle. The crowd is energetic–men, women, children all together in the stands. Gender did not dictate where one sat in the arena, unlike the theater. The sun is pounding down on me and my heart is racing. My body feels suddenly heavy. I glance down and to my surprise I’m holding a sword with two blades. My forearm is covered in steel and at the end is another blade. In gladiator times, I am known as the Scissor. The chants continue to get louder. The sweat is now covering my eyes and I struggle to see in front of me. Am I…am I supposed to be fighting? Charging at me is the Murmillo and maybe Russell Crowe–is he still here? The pounding is getting louder and closer but it’s the sound of my heart beating. My children are nowhere to be seen though it’s possible they are chanting from the stands. I can only hope they are screaming for my pardon. And, my mother-in-law, well, it’s questionable whose side she’s on. The sound is deafening. My body is on fire both from the sun and my newly acquired gear. I lift my blades. The Murmillo is steps away. I hear more screaming. Everything goes black.

“Mom! Mom!” I open my eyes and see my kids hovering over me. I’m lying on the dirt in the middle of the arena.

“What happened?” I manage to ask.

“I don’t know, you just fell over.” replies my oldest while taking my picture with her phone.

“Mom, I’m hungry.” says my middle child. “Don’t you have ANY snacks?”

“Oh, finally! You’re awake. Where’s your phone? Can I play a game?” asks my youngest.

“Where’s your grandmother?” I ask.

“Oh, she went to get help.” My oldest adds.

I slowly stand up, still feeling wobbly and loopy. I blink a few times and notice Russell Crowe and the other gladiators are gone. I’m no longer the Scissor but just a mom without snacks and apparently, now a phone, as my youngest has claimed it.

My mother-in-law returns with a staff employee and some water. “I’m fine” I promise as I take a sip. We slowly make our way out of the amphitheater and retreat to the Roman theater in order to have a seat. I’m the last to make my way through the exit path and I turn slowly to take one more look, still feeling confused from what just happened. While I know it was all my imagination, I can’t help but continue to hear the chanting and feel the vibrations on the ground as the gladiator is charging at me. It was history coming to life. What a bizarre feeling.

The Roman theater is impressive with its large columns and marble statues. We slowly stroll the dark hallways, enjoying another break from the sun. In peak tourist season, the theater still has productions in the evening, a reminder that we had planned our visit poorly. Given the temperature, it was no surprise we were the only ones sitting in the theater observing our surroundings. I note with annoyance that according to the information we read, seating in the theater is by social ranking and women did not rank highly on that list. Children, however, were granted seats near the stage. I sympathize with the mothers sitting in the top rows watching the behavior of their children below. I imagine they excelled at the death stare.

Feeling tired and still very hungry, we agreed it’s time to make our way out and return to our car, not-so-secretly hoping that maybe a cafe would finally be open. Exiting the visitor center, we see a covered area with a misting system. We all rush over to feel the cool mist on our overheated bodies. The temperature is well over 100 degrees and as soon as the mist is sprayed it evaporates in an instant. We never feel the coolness. Resigned to be hot, we begin to make our way back to our rental car, stepping into every shady spot along the way.

Up ahead to the left we spot a cafe with people sitting on the patio. We stop and enter the restaurant where the server informs us that they are only open for drinks. We all agree we need something other than lukewarm water so we take a seat. Anything cold will do at this point. The server brings iced teas for the kids and sangrias for the adults. At this point, alcohol on an empty stomach seems like a good idea. The condensation is already forming on the glasses as soon as the server places them on the table. As we sit sipping our drinks, my mother-in-law looks at me and asks if I’m okay. “I’m better now” I reply. “I think I just overheated.”

“Hmmm. That’s understandable.” And then she takes a long pause. “I nearly passed out too when I saw the gladiator charging you. I really didn’t think you’d survive.”

Author’s note: This is a fiction story based on a real visit to the beautiful city of Mérida, Spain. Mérida is home to some of the best preserved Roman ruins and is a fascinating place of history. Stepping into the amphitheater and theater do evoke feelings of stepping back in time and it’s easy for one’s imagination to go wild. Our family did visit Mérida on one of the hottest days of the year in the middle of the day. The town was empty. The cafes were closed. It was hot. But, I did not find myself involved in any gladiator fights nor did I pass out onto the arena floor. And, as far as I know, my mother-in-law did not imagine my death. However, I did have a vision of Russell Crowe standing in the middle of the arena floor preparing for battle. For more information on Mérida, Spain, visit https://turismoMérida.org/home/ but don’t go at 2pm on a hot August day. Trust me.