Route 66 A.D.:
On the Trail of the Ancient Roman Tourists

Tony Perrottet

New York: Random House, 2002. ISBN: 0-375-50432-X. Pp. 391 (index)

Review © 2006 Branislav L. Slantchev

As the author notes, the modern idea of travel, at least in the West, seems to involve an unhealthy obsession with seeking out the most unique experiences one can possibly come up with. One's status as a traveler is determined by the things that one has seen that others have not, and can therefore only enviously dream of. Whether it's trekking in the most remote jungle or visiting some tribe that progress has somehow bypassed, we seem to get our kicks by being the first (or among the few) who achieve these feats of travel. I wonder what's next: scaling Everest naked, swimming under the polar ice cap, or perhaps rappelling down an active volcano?

All of this is in stark contrast with the tourist industry that every vagabond worth his salt must despite and denounce at least twice daily. What? An organized tour? That's just for losers! Now, I have to admit I share some of that attitude, but it's still odd to see how an entire industry seems to be thriving in direct opposition to the professed travel goals of the modern Westerner. Maybe, just maybe, the majority of people who go abroad do something else?

The answer would be blatantly obvious to anyone who has ever witnessed a tour bus with tourists packed like sardines in their own sauce, snapping furiously at some historical site or other as their guide controls the chaos with a skill that would put any Marine drill sergeant to shame. Yes, most people go where everybody else does. And most people want to see the things that everybody else sees. How refreshing, then, to see that this particular urge is not new. As Perrottet makes clear, the whole point of the Grand Tour for the ancient Romans was to experience what everybody else has.

After spending hours at the New York Public Library, Perrottet manages to collect enough ancient travelogues to reconstruct the tour many high-born Romans seem to have favored. So armed with these hefty tomes and a lot of enthusiasm unencumbered by the fact that his girlfriend is expecting, the author sets out in the footsteps of the first tourists, to retrace their route and see just how different the modern experiences are form those the Romans had.

Although the author travels to places we have seen or heard of many times before (Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Egypt), this is no ordinary travelogue. There are, of course, the obligatory stories of chance encounters, disappointments, scary ordeals, and serendipitous finds. But the narrative flips back and forth between what the ancients would have seen and what we see now, what the ancients would have experienced and what we experience now, what the ancients would have thought and what we think now. There are hefty dozes of history and culture served in delicious morsels and small doses that are never overwhelming and always welcome. The author's erudition is pretty impressive, whether it is about the spicier side of the sex lives of the Romans or the down-to-earth side of sleeping at a flea-infested roadside inn.

It seems that surprisingly little has changed from the times of the ancient Romans, at least in what a tourist would have to go through. From the little annoyances with transportation schedules to more serious inconveniences like food poisoning to serious danger like armed attacks, many of the episodes would be just as familiar to anyone who travels outside the West today. We are not the first to bitch about some rapacious locals and wax eloquent about the hospitality of others, or to grumble at being ripped off by unscrupulous merchants only to brag later about some great deal we have found, or to respect the local custom more in the breach than in actual conformance. Indeed, it is hard to see what, if anything, has changed in all these centuries since Pax Romana made the Mediterranean about as safe as it ever has been in history.

Unfortunately, the schtick starts to wear thin about two thirds into the narrative. By the time the couple headed for Egypt, the steam was spent and the story was losing its momentum. Some annoyances also begin to surface. While the couple's misfortunes on Capri were worth a laugh (then again, why would anyone risk waiting for the last ferry after being specifically warned about it by a local), the subsequent escapades left me scratching my head in wonder. In particular, the author's rather cavalier attitude to his pregnant girlfriend was off-putting and somewhat disconcerting. Not just that, but walking willingly into terrorist-infested regions of Egypt was, well, not what a normal tourist would do. In fact, the author's obsession with having unique experiences overwhelms him several times: when he is not diving off the coast of Italy to see underwater ruins, he's trying to dive off the coast of Alexandria to do same. When he's not slogging through the rain to see some ruins in Greece, he's on a train with stones being thrown at him in Egypt, when he is not taking off with a stranger to a wedding in a remote desert village, he is cruising in a rickety Russian car around the countryside. By the time he got his comeuppance at that wedding, I actually felt he deserved to experience the groom rubbing sensuously his thighs on the author's while swaying in slow gyrations in their dance under the moon.

Still, a wonderful read with the occasional flashes of humor, Rome 66 A.D. is richly informative in what its main purpose seems to have been: compare our modern tourists (of the mass variety) with the ancients only to find out we're basically the same people who want the same things.

July 5, 2006