CW #10: The Pantheon

I walked into the Pantheon at three different times of the day – once at 8:30am, when the doors first open, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening, around the time the Pantheon closes. During each visit, I was amazed by how the time of day made each a unique experience. However, my 8:30am visit was the most rewarding.

Only in Rome would I have pried myself out of bed at the crack of dawn to visit one of the city’s most splendid monuments. I sat on the steps of the fountain facing the Pantheon, waiting for the giant doors to magically open. It was now 8:32am and nothing was happening. Had I misheard the time it opens? And then, I saw one of the massive doors slowly crack open. I stood up, almost slipping on a step from my anticipation and excitement. A little old woman peeped her head through the crack and began to pull and push the heavy metal doors. It was like watching a little boy trying to push a massive boulder. What an interesting yet unusual spectacle.

It felt strange being one of the first to be inside the Pantheon because I was so used to a mass of people taking pictures and the loud inaudible conversations that would overwhelm the Pantheon experience during mid-day. I wasn’t suffocating for the first time, like I was during my afternoon and evening visits. Instead, I felt calm and at peace.
The very first thing I noticed when I stepped inside in the morning was the array of colorful marble surrounding the interior, and the incredible symmetry. It’s more difficult to notice such details during the day and evening when there isn’t a single spot where I can simply enjoy what the Pantheon has to offer. In the afternoon, all I see is a sea of heads. In the evening, things are slower, but it’s just too dark inside to truly appreciate all the magnificent detail. So, now that I had the unique opportunity to really see the Pantheon, I sat down on a bench for a while and stared, taking notes on the interior grandeur. The experience in the morning is more personal.

The morning light shining through the oculus caught my eye – a central focus. My eyes were drawn to a single, perfect circle, settled towards the top of the ceiling. It reminded me of the moon. I didn’t have to squint, or shade my eyes when I looked directly into the light because it wasn’t blinding bright, like during the afternoon, or barely noticeable like around the time the Pantheon closes.

It was refreshing being able to freely explore every corner of the Pantheon right as it opened without having to squeeze past tour group after tour group. And for once, I could hear the loud echo of my shoes squeaking as I walked across the empty marble floor.