My second full day in Italy was one that I had been looking forward to since long before my departure. I read an entire novel, a handful of articles, and a somber yet beautiful poem about the city, really setting the tone for what was to come. Pompei turned out to be far more beautiful, complex, and insightful than I had anticipated.
My first glimpse of the area came as we traveled via bus on an Italian highway. The drive was scenic, filled with vineyards, mountains, and my first glimpse of the sea. As we approached our destination, Mt. Vesuvius loomed in the distance. One of our instructors mentioned that the mountain was now only half the size it had been before the big eruption. The top had simply been blown right off, leaving a flatter, yet still massive mountain in its place.
The entire class was a bit more reserved than we had been, holding the city in reverence for not only all that was lost, but all that was preserved.
“Does anyone know what happened here in 79 A.D.?” our guide, Gianni, asked as an opening to our tour. We all knew the answer, yet we were all too shy to say it. The school’s Chancellor, who had joined us for most of the trip to Italy, spoke up.
“Well Mt. Vesuvius erupted and destroyed Pompei,” he said, simply, stating the facts that we had all come to know.
“I’m so glad you said that, Mr. Chancellor,” Gianni said, in his thick Italian accent, with a bright smile on his face. “Many people believe that to be true, but I urge you to look around at what you see. Does this look like a destroyed city to you?” he gestured to the buildings surrounding us. Remnants of a once lively, successful city, the streets were lined with what had once been storefronts, saloons, houses, amphitheaters, and forums.
Despite all that had been preserved, the sense of loss was strong. There was a heaviness in the air, one that wasn’t quite explained away by the brewing rain clouds. It was as if I could feel the presence of all of those thousands of people who had once walked the stone paths, drank from the fountains, or ran for political office by participating in lively debates in the city’s main market square. The people who watched as Mt. Vesuvius blew her top off, and were powerless against the clouds of dust and ash that engulfed them faster than they understood what was happening, their entire lives suffocated beneath the relentless ash-fall.
I kept these people in mind as I explored the city, following along to Gianni’s insights into the way the city was run. Apparently, for every one house in Pompei there were six shops. The city was self-sufficient, not relying on importation of goods. They collected rain water from roofs and channeled it into underground reservoirs because they were unable to dig wells due to the foundation being made of hard lava rock. There were no addresses in Pompei. Instead, people indicated where they lived based on what fountain they were closest to. The fountains had statues of significant figures on them.
Gianni spoke of the discovery of tools that let us know the ancient people were capable of delivering babies via Cesarean sections. He taught us that the frescoes outside of shops served as a way to communicate to people speaking all different languages, allowing them to see what the shops offered. We visited a spa, where I learned the true origin of spas. An acronym, SPA stood for “Salus per acqum” or “health through water” in ancient Rome. The people believed in the healing powers of water, and they created public spas and bath houses to honor that power.
The tour of Pompei was probably the most valuable I had during the entire trip (except for Marco, but I’ll get to him in a future post.) I learned about these ancient people and their culture. I walked along their paths, and I viewed the most beautifully preserved pieces of art.
One of my favorite parts was the House of Vettii, which is a part of Pompei that has been closed off to the public for the past 20 years as archaeologists worked to uncover it. It is believed to have belonged to a couple of slaves who managed to buy their freedom. Their house was filled with symbols of their wealth and success, which in their time mainly just means paintings and statues with giant penises.
In one room, a fresco I came to know as “Cupids at Work” showcased Cupids selling perfume, making wine, and mining gold. These provide valuable insight into what types of careers the citizens of Pompei may have had.
What surprised me most about Pompei was the minimal emphasis on the casts of bodies created by Mt. Vesuvius’ eruption. Before my visit, that was the one fact I knew about the place, often highlighted as a “cool” aspect of the city’s history—how the last moments of its people were frozen in time. While I did see the casts, I discovered that Pompei held so much more magic and wonder. It baffled me that this single detail overshadowed the city’s true essence.
After our tour with Gianni ended, we had lunch at the one restaurant within the ancient walls of Pompei. Corey and I were kept company by the local tomcats, and while the rain began to come down, we would not be deterred from seeing more of the city after our bellies were full.
After the initial downpour passed, a small group of us set off the explore the parts of the city that weren’t covered by the tour. It was a lot more of the same, storefronts, houses, and long, stone paths. It was beautiful and peaceful. Away from the main crowds, there was a comfortable silence that Corey and I walked in as we made our way to the Amphitheater.
We kind of lost our way to the amphitheater, but somehow made it there accidentally anyway. However, instead of walking in on the side where we could get inside the amphitheater, we found ourselves at the entrance that contained an underground Pink Floyd museum. I guess the band had played a concert there once, and as a result, there was an entire tunnel with photos and videos of the band. It felt extremely out of place in the otherwise somber city. Our time was running out, as we were supposed to meet at the bus shortly to return back to Rome. So we rushed back to the parking lot, but still made time to appreciate the beauty of the modern city, outside of the ruins’ walls.
I managed a short nap on the bus ride back to Rome, but woke with about 30 minutes left of the journey. The small group of us that had gravitated together began making plans for our free evening. Corey is a bartender back home, so he became our unofficial guide to all things alcohol. I told him that I really wanted to find some Limoncello. He assured me that before the trip was over, we would get some. Lydia and Chris still had a lot of people they needed souvenirs for, so we planned an evening of shopping before dinner. I found recommendations for a good neighborhood to find authentic Italian goods, set apart from the many tourist traps. With everyone on board, when we got back to the hotel, we set right back out to explore.
We found this small shop, and I found an espresso set that I simply couldn’t pass up. The others bought some jewelry and clothing. As we walked the alleys, we passed a restaurant that Chris had read about before coming to Italy. It was revered as being a great place to get an affordable, authentic Italian meal. We decided to go there for dinner, and the difference between that restaurant and the tourist trap we dined at the night before was night and day. The atmosphere was calmer and classier. In fact, I felt severely underdressed, but the wait staff didn’t seem to mind. It was a process, but with 5 or so meals under our belts, we were beginning to understand how to order multiple courses in a way that didn’t make our waitress want to rip her hair out.
We each went around the table, ordering one to two courses, and Corey chose a bottle of wine for the table. I ordered bruchetta and lasagna. Corey and I ended up sharing some sort of strawberry dessert that I can no longer remember the name of. It was delicious, however. As the meal came to a close, and my body and mind were warm with wine, I found myself extraordinarily grateful that I found myself amongst people I felt I belonged with. Before the trip, there wasn’t much opportunity for me to really get to know my classmates. Being one of the older students in the group, I really worried that I would end up an outcast. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Rather, I spent each day of the trip getting to know these people, laughing harder than I had in a very long time, and forming genuine, lifelong connections. Our waitress approached our table wearily, asking about the check. We as a group were well aware of the stress Americans can cause in Europe by asking for split checks. As such, with each meal, one of us would pay the entirety of the bill and the others would repay that individual with euros or via venmo. When we told the waitress it would be all on one check, I saw the wave of relief rush over her. When she returned with the bill, she also had a bottle of Limoncello and some sort of cherry digestif, both of which were made in house.
I couldn’t believe my luck. Mere hours after I declared the importance of finding limoncello, and we were being presented with a full bottle, completely free of charge. I took a shot of the drink, and passed the bottle around the table for everyone else. We were all getting a bit buzzed at this point, and we were excited to explore the city some more.
Before heading back to the hotel, we decided to check out the Colosseum at night. And what a sight it was. What had already been extraordinary in the daylight, the view of the Colosseum lit up in a golden hue against the dark backdrop of the night sky sent shivers through me. It might have been the wine talking, but the beauty was breathtaking.
To top it off, I was surrounded by an amazing group of people. As we walked around the massive building, my notification went off to “BeReal.” Long story short, be real is an app that prompts you at random times, once a day, to take a picture of yourself and whatever is in front of you. I forced the group to be in my Be Real (and discovered that apparently it’s very uncool to have a Be Real.) Looking back on that photo still makes me laugh, remembering what a beautiful, wonderful night I had with them all.
Another 20,000 steps later, and my second full day in Italy was a wrap. Lydia and I returned to our hotel room, eager to get a full night’s rest, knowing the next day would be just as eventful.
~
Thank you for reading Part 2 of my Italian adventures. Your time and interest mean the world to me, and I hope you enjoyed reading about my experiences as much as I enjoyed sharing them. Stay tuned for more captivating stories and discoveries from my travels. There’s so much more beauty and wonder to explore together, so don’t miss out on the upcoming posts. Grazie e arrivederci
Until next time,
B
