I love old things. If you’re reading this blog, chances are you do too.
A shimmering skyscraper leaves me dizzy but unimpressed. The ruins of the Forum in Rome, however, leave me speechless. I’m happy to sit for hours on a bench near the House of the Vestal Virgins, soaking up history—preferably with gelato in hand.
When I travel, there is always more to do than time allows. So my travel plans often hinge on age. The Eiffel Tower, built for the 1889 World’s Fair, is a famous landmark and an excellent way to get a view of Paris. But the Cathedral of Notre Dame, began in 1163 and built over a span of almost 200 years is first on my to-do list.
How can you not wonder over the thousands of lives that have passed, the dramas that have unfolded, while that soaring cathedral was built stone by back-breaking stone? Those worn stones have witnessed the loves, joys, tragedies and deaths of countless people—generation upon generation. If they could speak, what stories they would tell?
And so, if I have a choice of visiting a modern landmark (and by modern, I mean less than 200 years old), or a display of ancient Etruscan funerary urns, you know where I’ll be. I can’t help it, that’s where my imagination is ignited and where I feel the wonder of history.