Two gladiators circle one another in the arena, kicking up dust with sandalled feet, sweat dripping onto the dry earth. They each take a few tentative swipes before one fighter connects with the crucial blow; his adversary staggers, clutching his side, then crumples in a heap of leather and steel on the floor.
For a split second the audience hesitates, unsure of what they’ve just seen. Then, the fallen warrior stands up, wipes fake blood from his brow with a grin and bows enthusiastically. “And now, we will enjoy a procession of the best haircuts in Ancient Rome!” the announcer proclaims over a crackling loudspeaker.
Proudly yet lightly —that’s how the Croatian city of Pula wears its heritage. “Back in the first century, Pula was known as Pietas Julia,” explains Vesna Jovicic, a local guide with long gunmetal hair and thick-rimmed purple sunglasses, when I meet her after the gladiator show at the arena. “Emperor Vespasian had a lover from Pula, called Antonia —a freed slave who became his companion after the death of his wife. He built the amphitheatre for her.” Much has changed in the intervening centuries. The amphitheatre now hosts the annual Pula Film Festival, while British band Florence and The Machine had graced its stage a few weeks before my arrival. In 2013, the arena even hosted the beatification of a saint, priest Miroslav Bulešić, who was murdered for his beliefs in the 1940s. Still, its ancient stones have stood firm while the political sands have shifted time
