Travel: Why Mérida is home to Spain’s best-preserved Roman ruins

As we walked from my hotel, towards the centre of town, my guide suddenly pointed to a building, that stopped me in my tracks. Unlike temples perched on hills or isolated behind fences, this ancient Roman building rose directly from the modern city, cheek to jowl with lively cafés and apartments. The Corinthian columns were well preserved, because  it had been part of a 16th century Renaissance palace. I  was transported into the past and imagined ancient worshippers offering prayers, where now people casually checked messages on their mobile phones or chatted.

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Best-preserved ruins

Mérida in the Extremadura region of  Spain, which was founded over two millennia ago, in 25 BC, as Emerita Augusta, holds some of Spain’s best-preserved Roman ruins. My local guide explained that if you dig anywhere in Mérida, you are likely to find some old ruins. She added that projects here routinely halt because a foundation reveals a mosaic, a wall, or even an entire forgotten street. Then archaeologists have to be called in and the ruins have to  be dated and assessed.

My hotel, Ilunion Merida Palace, was located in the lively Plaza de Espana and housed in a 16th century palace, with a central courtyard decorated with tiles. My first morning took me to the Roman Theatre, Mérida’s show stopper, constructed against the slope of a hill. This was founded by Agrippa, son-in-law of Emperor Augustus, between the years 16 and 15 BC. It later went into disuse, sand and debris slowly covering the place. It was in the 20th century, that archaeologists rediscovered this marvellous construction almost intact under the ground, their discovery prompted by the exposed upper section of its tiered seating.

Entering its semicircle of stone seats felt like walking back centuries. Marble Corinthian columns, a special sunken place for the orchestra, statues of gods, goddesses and emperors from Ceres to Proserpine, placed on pillars( the originals placed in the National Museum of Roman art),  I could almost imagine the murmur of audiences waiting for a tragedy or comedy to begin in ancient times. Behind the stage was a garden with columns and porticos for relaxing.

The theatre was so magnificently preserved that those ancient performances felt just a breath away. My guide explained that every summer the space came alive again with the Classical Theatre Festival when actors stand where Romans once did, their voices rising towards the sky and are watched by a spellbound audience.

Just a few steps away was the gargantuan Roman Amphitheatre, which could seat at many as 15,000 people. Walking into the oval arena, with tiered seating for different social classes,  I could almost hear the roar of the crowd, the clang of weapons, men and beasts preparing to fight. Inscriptions on old stones were found here, that helped identify, when the building was inaugurated. In the middle was a ditch, where under wooden boards, wild animals in cages and equipment were stored in the past. “Gladiators did not die like shown in movies, they were very precious people-slaves from conquered territories, who were trained to fight and were looked after very carefully,” explained our guide.

We walked to the Morerias area, where an archaeological site was discovered in the 1990s, when government offices were being built.  It shows how the city grew from the Roman period to the Visigothic and Moorish periods, like the layers of a cake. Mérida was adapted by different cultures, and one can see years of history at this site, starting from a Roman road to a black and white marble floor of a house. I spent several hours at the National Museum of Roman art, designed by the Spanish architect Rafael Moneo, in warm and earthy brick. Inspired by the  Roman arches and aqueducts, the museum had soaring semi-circular brick arches, creating a stunning backdrop for its Roman treasures. Sunlight flooded into the museum through large windows and skylights, and  an underground crypt  allowed visitors to walk among real Roman houses and a necropolis below the museum’s foundations.

From decorative friezes and cornices from old Roman buildings, to marble statues of Ceres, the Roman god of agriculture, with the lifelike folds of her robe, and a veiled bust of  Augustus, recovered from the excavations this was a sensory feast into its Roman past. Against large expanses of walls were mounted Roman mosaics, made from thousands of pieces of natural stones and even coloured glass called tesserae, often depicting mythological scenes from  daily life, and natural landscapes. Many were recovered from grand Roman mansions in the city. Displaying these fragile mosaics was a tremendous job of conservation techniques, meticulous cleaning and then lifting it to great heights. One section was devoted to cooking vessels and tableware, as well as exquisite Roman glass ware from delicate perfume bottles to  lamps. Exquisite jewellery including necklaces and brooches made from gold, silver and  semi-precious stones as well as hairpins gleamed behind glass display cases.

Later, I walked to the Aqueduct of Los Milagros, or the Aqueduct of Miracles built  from granite, bricks and concrete, in the first century AD, to bring water to the ancient city, so named because of how well it is preserved. Massive weathered arches rose across the landscape that had been punctuated by a recent train line, and I could not help but marvel at the ingenuity of Roman engineers, who built this enduring structure. Storks nested on its highest points, their calls echoing through the open park around it. Though Mérida is an ancient city, it is also  full of life with restaurants and bustling squares. That evening, as the sky deepened into violet, I found myself in a small studio, for a flamenco class run by warm and passionate, Fuensanta Blanco. “If you want to understand Mérida,” she told me, “you must listen to its rhythm.” We pulled on  special shoes, and she began to dance, her heels striking the floor in sharp, confident patterns that echoed through the room. I followed her lead, feeling clumsy and unsure but she was encouraging. “Flamenco comes from centuries of influences,” she said. “Just let yourself go”. She told me how she once taught a group of Indian students, and how they had become close friends through the art. I felt lucky to glimpse the soul of the local culture, even just for a moment.

After my dance session I walked to Mérida’s old Roman bridge,  called the Puente Romano over the Guadiana River. This was one of Spain’s largest Roman bridges with 64 mighty arches and still in use by pedestrians. Just next to it loomed the seventh century Muslim Alcazaba or fortress,  built using Roman stone, surrounded by a moat and palm trees. From the old bridge, one can get a  great view  of  the contemporary Lusitania Bridge, built by star architect Santiago Calatrava.

By nightfall, Mérida  looked magical. Green and purple lights illuminated Roman ruins, where people strolled after dinner. Children played in plazas overshadowed by ancient columns. As I walked to my hotel after dinner, I was struck by how seamlessly the ancient coexisted with the everyday, in this city, where history was not something you  just visited- you walked on it every day, and ultimately carried it with you. 

wknd@khaleejtimes.com