101 Places Not to See Before You Die - Catherine Price [43]
No one’s really sure what attracts the sharks to the café or, for that matter, what they eat while they’re there—despite its name, the White Shark Café is considered by scientists to be a food desert, devoid of any other creatures that the great whites might enjoy. Which brings me back to why you shouldn’t visit: no matter what the sharks are doing, they’re likely to be eager for a snack.
Chapter 67
The Sidewalk Outside the Roman Coliseum During the Crazy Gladiator’s Shift
If you visit Rome you should, of course, go to the Coliseum. But do not linger on the sidewalk outside.
I say this because of the gladiators. No, not the ghosts of the thousands of men slaughtered in the Coliseum’s ring to give nobles something to do on a Sunday afternoon. I’m talking about the modern-day gladiators: the guys in sandals and capes who accost tourists outside the coliseum’s entrance, offering to pose for photographs in exchange for tips.
Most of these gladiators are harmless, more interested in carrying on loud cell phone conversations with their girlfriends than they are in accurately portraying ancient Rome. But there is one gladiator who takes his role-playing more seriously than the rest. Trust me: you’ll know him when you see him.
I caught my first glimpse of his feathered helmet and silver face mask as I took a gelato break on a nearby stone bench, and it didn’t take me long to realize that this gladiator was different. The other gladiators smiled and posed for photographs with people who had voluntarily approached them. The crazy gladiator grabbed a woman off the street, hoisted her above his head with a grunt, and held her hostage until her boyfriend had taken a picture. The other gladiators let kids touch their swords. The crazy gladiator seized a small girl by the back of her overalls and pretended to plunge his trident into her stomach as her flustered parents struggled to find their wallets. The other gladiators attracted children by letting them try on their helmets. The crazy gladiator had a net.
The tactic worked. He drew a crowd. And I, a person who experiences a rush of anxiety any time I see a mime, decided that I wanted a picture with him.
I handed the camera to my friend Mark, and we approached, feigning calm. This did not fool the crazy gladiator. “Ah! Christians to kill!” he shouted in English. He ran at us, trident raised, and grabbed me by the neck. “Come over here!” he said, gesturing toward a fellow gladiator. “Christians to kill! I love killing Christians!” His friend obliged, holding a plastic sword to my throat as the crazy gladiator pointed his trident toward my chest and yelled, “Silicone, ha ha ha!” as Mark snapped a photo.
I barely had a chance to recover from this public reference to my (decidedly silicone-free) chest before the crazy gladiator grabbed our camera, handed it to his friend, and pulled us both toward him for another shot. Then he angled the trident toward Mark’s crotch and gave the camera a worried look and a thumbs-down.
Luckily, no breasts or testicles were actually harmed in the making of our photographs. Instead, the second gladiator snapped a final picture, turned to Mark, and said, “You tip the gladiators, yes?” And like countless tourists before us, we nodded and pulled out our wallets, grateful to have escaped.
Chapter 68
Any Place Whose Primary Claim to Fame Is a Large Fiberglass THING
When it comes to this particular type of roadside kitsch, I thought that America must be the winner. Take, for example, the giant muskie at the Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame & Museum in Hayward, Wisconsin. More than four stories tall and as long as a Boeing 757, the fish is the largest fiberglass sculpture in the world.
But while we might have the biggest, Australia has the most: it’s home to more than 150 giant roadside sculptures, which are affectionately known as Big Things and are becoming recognized as a type of folk art.
It all started with the Big Banana. Built