Napoli Rocks

It’s hard to turn every day into an afterschool special. Because sometimes there is no moral to my travel, there is just normal life. Just a normal day with a few thousand-year old monuments; which are notable, but not affecting, not likely to be something you remember vividly. But today there is a story, and it’s because of the people involved that it is important, that it is affecting, and that I will remember it. I have discovered that people, not monuments, make impressions on my life.

That said, of course I went to see the monuments! This morning I set off, after a brief breakfast adventure which resulted in some chocolate pastries and fruit, with my new friends John, Briana and Stacy to see Pompeii, an ancient Roman city which was buried under tons of burning pumice from the explosion of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD. That is a very long time ago. We paid their excessive entry fee and also partook in audio guides so we could tell what we were looking at, and we began to explore the ancient city, which accommodated 25,000 Romans back in the day. It is a huge complex, so I’m sure we didn’t see everything, but we did see some remarkable things. It amazes me to see evidence of the rationality of the Roman people. Judging from their court system, their artwork, and their sporting events, among other things, it is clear that the residents of ancient Rome were possessed of intelligence at least equal to our own. It’s also amazing to consider the fact that they were the first real civilization, which is significant because it means they had no foundation for the way they did things; every problem was new. Everything we’ve done afterward has sprung from their original method of thought, building upon their groundwork. It was a fascinating place to explore, especially the amphitheater. Its form was mostly covered in grass, with a few rows of seats still clinging to the green slope. It made me want to have a picnic.

When we returned, we couldn’t eat our planned dinner of rotisserie chicken just yet, because it wasn’t yet late enough for dinner, so John and I walked down to this park area, which was neat, and continued on to the water. Naples is on the western coast of Italy, and the water is within easy walking distance to the hostel. We explored this pier I found yesterday, and on the way back we encountered two children, probably seven or eight years old, calling into the jumble of boulders which, along with the dock, formed the barrier between the open sea and the calm bay on the other side. Their calls were met with frantic yelps from within the rocks. John and I were interested, so we went over to see what the fuss was about. With their tiny amount of English (dog, cat), and our tiny amount of Italian (No thank you, Where is the train station?), we were able to piece together that their dog was inside the rocks and they couldn’t get her to come back out. (Actually this doesn’t seem like it would take much communication; seems pretty obvious, now that I think about it.) Anyway, the kids wanted John and I to move these huge boulders. There was no way. We didn’t even try because the rocks were huge. But there did seem to be a formidable passage into the rocks, at the end of which, the dog’s tail could be seen. The kids didn’t want to go in there, though they were small and would have fit nicely, but I was curious, so I decided to climb down in the rocks and see if I could help the dog (yes, it’s that kind of story). I was able to gymnastic myself down to where I could touch the dog, which I was hesitant to do. It was frantic; barking, yelping, crying, making every sound of which a dog’s limited vocal box is capable, and I was afraid if I startled it, I would be mauled by this small rat-like excuse for a dog. I had just taken off my chamois shirt to see if I could wrap the dog up and carry it, hysterical, out of the rocks when a black cat crossed my face. This is not a figure of speech. The dog was chasing a cat through the rocks and seemed to be free to move as it pleased, as reported by the above-ground support crew a few seconds later when they saw the dog appear on the top of the rocks for half a second before diving back in after the cat. I, feeling foolish, as usual, climbed back out of the rock wall. Our hypothesis is this: the cat was in the rock wall investigating a dead cat, which I found along my path to the dog. The dog followed after the cat, and until the cat left, the dog would stay in the wall, at the behest of her owners. I told the Italian boys I was sorry, in Italian, and tried to explain, with wild gesticulation and rampant hand gestures, some of the complexities of inter-species domestic animal relations. They were happy we had stopped to help and one of the boys showed off his English, saying “Thank you very much!” before we continued on our way. We had made it about fifty yards before one of them called out to us. We turned around and he was running toward us to deliver a gift to me for climbing in the rocks for them. It was a small starfish they had found that day. I accepted most graciously. It stinks of rotting seafood and will surely break as I continue my travels, but I can’t imagine a more perfect souvenir.

Update: I have some pictures. There's one of me and my new friends at the ampitheatre at Pompeii, one of me down among the rocks, and one of a pizza chef sharing his most prized possession with the camera.