The Mediterranean Cruise Chronicles: Part VII (Pompei)

The ship's next stop was in Napoli (Naples), from where we took a train to Pompei. Arriving in Napoli after two frustrating days in Florence and Rome, Mike and I were set for only a half day in the "Vegas" of Italy.

But first, Napoli was disgusting and rotten; more accurately termed "a dump." But we needed to walk a couple of kilometers to get to the train station. The walk was slightly unpleasant scent- and scenic-wise, but entering the train station was like stepping through the gates of Heaven. And as usual, we checked out the ticket machines.

"Pompei" wasn't listed.

We double-checked the Google instructions, and sure enough we were in the right place. So how the hell were we going to get to Pompei? We asked a woman working a coffee shop.

"You need-a go to the newspaper shop-a or tobacco shop-a," she pointed across the way.

Oh. Kay...since that's so obvious. [face-palm]

So we purchased the tickets...and then couldn't figure out how to get to the correct terminal. Because that was hidden, too. One of the female customers at the coffee shop led us to a man who looked like he worked at the station, asked him, and then the man directed us to a few teenage boys who were heading that way. The teenagers led us to the correct terminal while immersed in their own conversation.

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Mike and I arrived at Pompei. Walking toward the ruins, we enjoyed the relaxing "small town" landscape like we had in Pisa: strolled down the main street, purchased due ("two") cannoli (Dear American White people who say "a cannoli": "cannoli" is plural and "cannolo" or Sicilian "cannolu" is singular), and enjoyed the weather before it got deadly again. It worked for us.

Through the ruins' entrance one is immediately greeted by the famous amphitheater. After walking into, through, and popping out of it, Mike and I enjoyed a nice, shady walk to what used to be the residential outskirts.

Walking this pathway, save for our landing into Barcelona (and a few other painful life experiences), I'd never known anything that perpetual. For as long as we walked the narrow "sidewalk" there were a plethora of partially-standing stone structures with intact wall paintings, stone benches, sinks, shelves, etc. And in one building there was a relatively large crowd around--at the risk of sounding like a 'tard--a "preserved" dead person ("preserved" = by hardened volcanic ash?). It was pretty cool...

1-ish PM knocked and it got hot. I don't do well with long, aimless, hot walks, and Mike neither slept well the night before nor had breakfast. His cells were beginning to shift into Gear II: cannibalize the next fat tourist. We turned around and headed out.

This time the friken hot train that returned us to Napoli was both punctual and truthful about its destination. It was the best thing since the cannoli.