Pompeii- Part I

The first thing I noticed once I got into Naples was a stray dog coming into the station to take a dump at the bottom of a flight of stairs, then it lifted it's leg at the corner of a wall and took a leak against it. Ah, Napoli. How I missed you so. The ride from Termini, Rome's train station, took about 1 hour and 15 minutes through the Eurostar train, so I was down south in no time. It was hot and sticky, and as I walked to the cicumvesuviana, the train that connects the region of Campania together, I noticed a thick dark haze shrouding the city. If you've ever been to Tijuana, Mexico, I suppose that would be the best comparison. It's very hot, choked with pollution, people, and noise, and everything seems on top of you. It's also home to the Camorra family, the ruling Mafia around here. Given all that, I quickly made my way to the train, taking the SORRENTO line to Pompeii.

I made my way up to Villa Dei Misteri Motel, where the Pompeii Food and Drink group was staying. I introduced myself to some of the members when I got there, then did the formal introduction before dinner. There were people from all around the country, of different ages and sexes, although the majority had ties to the University of Maryland (where the project is based out of), and quite a few from New York City. They told us we were now officially workers for the Italian government, and they laid out an evacuation plan in case Vesuvius decided to erupt again, since it's long overdue (everyone laughed, because they doubted it could be pulled off by the state). It was eerie to see that volcano towering above us all, knowing what it had once done 2,000 years ago, and what it's expected to do next in the near future. Anyways, I really liked the group that came together for this, as everyone was very nice and knowledgable. We all had dinner above the pool of the hotel, and we enjoyed ourselves with pasta, wine, and gelato before going off to work in the morning.

I won't get into each day's experiences here because it would take too long to describe everything that happened. But I will do my best to give an account of what it was that I did and where we went as a group to give you a feel for what the experience was like. I was assigned to the drawing team with two other people - a team leader (Shelly), and a fellow volunteer (Gina). I helped take measurements of structures and features around the ancient city, while the team leader sketched it out and recorded the findings. The first house we went to was a mess. Located near the center of town, it was, for the most part, rubble. Around 150 bombs were dropped by the United States and it's allies on Pompeii during World War II (we thought they were hiding ammo in some of the buildings), and you couple that with earthquakes, volcanoes, neglect, vandalism, and the ravages of time, and you're going to get some structures where it's difficult to make out much of anything. Fortunately, this structure still had a little kitchen area along with a lararium, a household shrine where little statues of the Lares (the household gods) were placed. Some were richly decorated with designs and bright colors, and often had a picture of a writhering snake underneath... but most were plain little niches in walls. A lot of them were found in kitchen areas, though there is some debate whether or not some of them were either shrines or areas to strore kitchen goods. That, unfortunately, is one of the most frustrating, yet at times interesting things about Pompeii: the debate about what something might be, or what happened in a structue. Many times during the project, we would have to wait until the project leaders were done arguing with one another over what certain structures may have been or what they could have been used for. The debates surrounding Pompeii are numerous, and everyone has an opinion on something. Even those who think they are right most likely are not. Classicists, art historians, and archaeologists make up a shake-and-bake bag of people with different views on everything surrounding this site (and most of them ridicule each other underneath their breath), but Pompeii has also given us a huge amount of valuable information regarding everyday life during the high point of the Roman Empire.

We would stay at a house or structure until we were done with measuring every wall and feature, such as a lararium, or triclinium (the dining room with three couches usually connected to one another where three Romans would lay across three to a side and eat). A lot of the triclinia we identified and measured seemed to be outdoors, with gardens and vineyards next to them, where people would probably dine during the summer when it was really hot. One of the houses I was lucky enough to work in was the House of Felix and Sabinus. I tried looking up some information on this house, but couldn't find much about it, as it is closed to the public. Being able to walk into structures and see things that tourists don't have access to is an amazing feeling. It was interesting to see how the Romans re-used their materials, as one of the couches next to the triclinium had drinking vessels built into it as support at the base of the stone couch. There was a broken amphorae (wine jar) next to it, and it still had ash and pumice stuck to it from the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Next to the modern vineyard (which was reconstructed from evidence of a prior vineyard in antiquity), was a hole in the ground - most likely from a Allied bomb. The house also had a lararium with a snake underneath it, and some colored plaster still sticking to the walls. All of these structures have no remaining roofs, since they all crashed to the floor during the eruption. Many of the walls have been reconstructed, as well, so at times (even with a professional architect) it is difficult to tell what is ancient and what is a modern restoration. Some homes have broken amphorae lodged into the tops of walls; this was done by caretakers who used these ancient artifacts as a sort of barbed wire to keep one from hopping over walls. It looks stupid, and was an even dumber idea. In fact, a lot of strange things are going on around Pompeii. The ancient theatre has been "restored", where they have placed perfectly placed cut stones over the ancient seating area, making it look clean and modern for shows during spring and summer (this, along with many other modern improvements around the theatre has turned it into someting new, and is no longer - in my opinion- an ancient theatre). The sidewalks in the city, where you can see traces of lead pipes that carried water, and bits of pottery and marble stuck in the ground, is being repaved with modern concrete to make it more accessable for tourists to walk on. There are other places on the site that are being worked on, and some people have complained that the city is being turned into a Disney-like attraction: Pompeiiland. There is a good side to it all, though. There really are a lot of improvements around the site, and it seems a lot friendlier and accessable to the public. A lot of homes and sites are being opened up after long restorations, and they look wonderful. It's a mixed bag, and it will be interesting to see where they go with the city.

Well, this is just little of my experience, opinions, and feelings surrounding my time in Pompeii. I will write up a second part to it all, with a little more detail on some of the lectures, people, and sites that I came to know throughout my stay last week. For now, it's off to the airport to pick Jordan up, and head to Sorrento to explore the Amalfi Coast.

Last Night in Rome

The rest of my time in Rome consisted of getting to sites too late in the day to let me in - around 4 or 5 pm, because I stayed up at night to visit La Boticella, a bar near Piazza Navona where some of us from the Ohio State study abroad program in 2008 visited. Gionvanni, the owner, has become somewhat of a celebrity in Pittsburgh and with the Steeler Nation. Being a Steelers and Penn State fan, he caught the attention of the powers that be in the Steelers organization, and he has traveled to Pittsburgh to attend a game and has been treated like fan royalty, with tours of the locker room, and meeting with the owner, players, coaches, and team legends. With this, he has generated a lot of intrest in his bar, which equals great business. It's interesting to see a Steelers fan come in, not knowing what he/she was walking into, and seeing their eyes light up. Anyways, Giovanni is a good guy, and I had fun returning to the scene of the crime there, as I have fond memories of the place.

So basically all I did was walk around the streets at night (meaning around 2-4am), when the heat and tourists couldn't get to me. It's beatufiul to walk around the monuments at night with no car horns, or vendors yelling, or tourists trying to find the local Hard Rock Cafe. After getting up around 11am each day, I would usually make my way into Trastevere to find new places to have lunch and dinner, because afterall, food is one of the biggest attractions in all of Rome and Itlay. I had some extremely good dishes, along with a couple of adequate enough plates to just give me enough energy to burn off for the walk back to the Vatican.

My last night, I decided to head to da Bafetto, a pizzeria near Piazza Navona popular with tourists and locals alike. It has a definite circus atmosphere, as the owner, Mr. Bafetto, is the loud and sometimes incredibly rude ringmaster. You wait at the door for a place to sit, and the line usually stretches out pretty far, with sometimes up to 40 people waiting. Bafetto comes out and asks how many people are waiting to get in (he doesn't speak English). You could be the first person in line, and he could take the person behind you or 10 people behind you before he lets you in. At times he looks like he's going to either have a heart attack or is constipated (I guess it's the same thing?). But people stand in line for a reason, and once you get in and get your pizza, you realize just how worth it all that hassle was. Bafetto sat me down at a table with three other empty chairs, so I was glad I would be getting my own spot, but then he started yelling at groups to sit where I was sitting, and they had a look on their eyes like I was some sort of axe murderer, and they returned to the line outside. Finally, he plunked down a girl to sit across from me, and she didn't fight it. she was by herself, which was akward for me, because as you know, I am not good at making conversation. Lukcily, I heard her speak some Spanish to the waiter, so I at least tried to make a little small talk, but she seemed just as shy me. it really didn't matter to me, because I was there for the pizza, and when I got it and took the first bite, my eyes rolled back into their sockets. So good. I was in another world and couldn't be bothered with anything else. Add to the mix a liter of house wine, and it was pure indulgance.

Both I and the girl had finished when the waiters were creating a huge commotion with a patron making his way in. They sat him down at our table as they spoke to each other in Italian, but I was able to pick up a hint of an American accent on the guy. For about 5 minutes, we all sat there silent. It was at this point that I couldn't take the akwardness any longer, so I asked him if he spoke English, and from there, that's when the night turned into something more than I was expecting. The girl chimed in and said she spoke English as well, and now the akwardness was broken. He introduced himself as Mark, a Bostonian living in Naples and teaching children at the NATO base down there, and he had lived in Italy since the 1970's. She introduced herself as Rita, a Portuguese inventment banker who moved to Brazil with her soon-to-be ex-husband, and on vacation by herself in Rome. We spent a good amount of time talking and laughing about things, and at one point, Mark ordered another pizza and split it up amongst the three of us (YES!). When it was time to pay the check, he picked it up for us (WOW!). Free pizza from da Bafetto's and great conversation with good people? I really lucked out. Mark suggested we got out for some drinks, and I mentioned La Boticella and Giovanni, which he had never heard of in all his years there. He was just as amazed as most people who stumble upon a Steelers bar in Rome, and he hit it off with him real well. We watched the end of the Spain World Cup victory, and I bought the two of them shots of grappa and beer as a token of my appreciation. Since Mark drove down up from Naples, he said we should all hop into his car parked along the Tiber river and make the drive to a couple of his favorite Irish bars near the Colesseum. We hopped in his little car and sped around town, blasting past all of these wonderful ancient monumnts illuminated by the light. We made it to these bars, but they were a let down, as not much was going on, so we swiftly left both of them. Mark dropped me off near my hotel, as I had to get up early and make my way to Naples in the morning. All in all, it was a fun night, and a nice way to end my first of two stays in Rome during this trip.

Am I Dead?

I began my final full day in Spain by walking down to a cafe and getting a small coffee along with some churros con chocolate, which is an extremely satisfying way to start your day. I picked up one of the many newspapers slammed with coverage of Spain's win over Portugal in the World Cup, and to say they went nuts is an understatement. The way we think of something like Ohio State football, or the Yankees or Lakers winning championships is nothing compared to this. Soccer is probably bigger than Catholicism in Spain, and it shows. You could feel the buzz in the air that day, and see the cops on their horses galloping around the city while the Spanish flag flew from balconies. I spent that day doing the usual tapas crawl, trying whatever was thrown my way after ordering a beer, and it left me in a semi-coma until around an hour before the game. I decided to walk around town to find a bar with a tv, and one which wasn't too crowded. I settled on a place called Grand Cafe de Madrid, which wasn't anything too spectacular, but it had beer, television, and hardcore fans. Like everyone else there, I kept my fingers buried into the table until the striker David Villa scored the lone and deciding goal against their Iberian neighbors. Of course, I put my loyalty behind Spain after the U.S. and Mexico were knocked out, because I have grown to love and respect the people of Spain after my month and a half there taking part in an archaeological dig and traveling around with Jordan last year. The streets of Madrid were filled with happy Spaniards convinced that this was the year they would be crowned champions of the world. I'm really happy that I was there to witness it. Now I know that Ohio State football fans aren't the only insane lot out there.

My final day ended without much drama, aside from being accosted by another hooker. I ended up looking around for more tapas and beer, when an Eastern European streetwalker with a rather unfortunate face came up to me and grabbed me around the waist and said "25 Euro you like". I told her I had no money but I appreciated her generosity. Well, that's when she developed a frown on her face and told me I was a liar, so she promptly demanded that I show her the contents of my wallet. I had to laugh, and kept walking down the street. After wrestling with some mini sandwiches and olives, I walked back down the street and she power walked towards me and threw her arms around me yet again. "5 Euros! Don't tell me you don't have that! I saw you! SHOW ME YOUR WALLET!!!!!" I kept walking while she yelled God-knows-what in some strange Eastern language.

Oh, Spain... how I will miss you and all of your weird whores.

I was too hyped up to sleep before having to go to the airport at 5am to catch my flight to Rome. My time was spent watching really weird music videos by Spanish and American artists on their equivalent of MTV. One video featured a lot of Satanic imagery and soft core porn, with a backdrop of acid rock that would have been at home during Andy Warhol's 1960's. Then they played a Britney Spears video, and that was when I decided that that was the true Satanic imagery and soft core porn, but it was all just wrapped up in a nice little package to be sold to those pre-teens of the early 2000's who grew up with her and were now becoming lost women with jobs to nowhere and had brat children running their lives. I began to get a really weird vibe from all of this. How could a Britney Spears video make me feel so disturbed? Especially when it followed some wannabe-famous Spanish rock band's true attempt to be sick and twisted? My brain started to hurt. And then... then... they played the new Lady Gaga video. Wow. I had to turn the tv off because I knew I was about to fall into the deep end of my mind, and I really didn't want to go there, especially not at 4am before a flight. This HAD TO be a sign that the plane was going to go down in the Mediterranean. I gathered my clothes and threw them into my bag and headed to the airport.

Checking-in with Easyjet sucks. Of course, I paid $46 for my ticket to Rome, so I really shouldn't be complaining... but let's just say I am making an observation. The lines were enormous, and the people at the counter had a difficult time trying to understand what was going on. After initial confusion about whether or not I was supposed to be on the flight, the agent printed out my boarding pass, and I was off. I picked up a speedy boarding pass, which helped my avoid the mass of humanity that was trying to get to the counter before their flights left, so it at least saved me some headache. The flight itself was nothing spectacular. I managed to secure a seat at the front of the plane, so my knees were happy about that. There was moderate turbulence for the duration of the flight, which stopped me from getting any sleep in. We landed in Rome about 40 minutes after we were scheduled to, and I made my way to the arrival section to try to find the shuttle bus driver to take me to my hotel. Unfortunately, there was no one there to greet me, and I spent some time combing the area to finally find that my name was printed on a piece of paper attached to a counter. I was informed that the shuttle bus driver would call my name in 15 minutes. That was 40 minutes after he finally did. This guy was... well, he was something. When the lady behind the counter of this shuttle company called my name, he looked at me and gave me a wink, while his gold chain rubbed against his chest hair and his wrinkled black suit screamed for an iron. What a cheeseball. He played with his hair while the other passengers were called, and afterwards we headed to the van. For some strange reason, he decided to walk in the middle of the street instead of using the sidewalk to get to the van, and people let him have it, but it really didn't matter to him, since he decided to give them a piece of his mind if they talked any crap to him. Either he has titanic balls, or he is the biggest knuckle dragger I have ever come across. Probably both.

When we got in, he turned around and looked at us with a look that he probably practiced after looking at James Dean photos for years, and didn't say anything at all. The van was hotter than Hell, and the air conditioning wasn't working (there were large, black patched of fuzz above the vents). He started the car, and immediately, a Michael Jackson song started... not one of the semi-respectable ones, but one of those that were overly cheesy and difficult to listen to. Thankfully, he changed the station, but he settled for the annoying theme song to the Friends television series. Oh, God, no. It was at the point that I knew that I was dead. The plane crashed in the Mediterranean and I was just living this weird Lost (the tv series) finale scenario where life kind of kept going after death only to realize you were really dead even though you didn't know you were dead (don't worry, I am confused too). There was no way I was living this. He moved his head back and forth, really into the song. If this were my first trip to Italy, I would have jumped out of the van thinking this was what it was all going to be. No. I died. I still don't believe I am here. This was too weird of a situation, even for me.

I got to my hotel, the hotel Columbus, right next to St. Peter's without losing my mind. I promptly took a 4 hour nap because I was dead tired. Later in the evening I made my way over to the Trastevere neighborhood of Rome for dinner. I've decided to focus my two and a half days here on that part of town, the old Jewish Ghetto, and the ancient Via Appia outside of town. there really isn't anything else that I am dying to see in the typical tourist areas of Rome, as this is my 4th trip here, and I have bled those dry.

Trastevere is a wonderful part of Rome on the left bank of the Tiber River. This is where you will find a more authentic Roman experience, especially with food and atmosphere (there is a smaller concentration of tourists here than there is over on the other side focusing on the ancient and Renaissance monuments). I ended up walking to a restaurant called Cave Canem (Beware of Dog in Latin), where I ordered a mozzarella, potato and rosemary pizza - a truly amazing pie - along with a jug of house wine for far less than you would have gotten on the other side of the river. Needless to say, I will be back there to look for some more great restaurant options, of which there are no short order of in Trastevere.

I really hope I can find new things to do in Rome, but in all honesty, I wouldn't mind seeing those old ancient Roman monuments again. It is, afterall, what I love. But most of all I really wish I had my friends, family, and girlfriend with me here. This is a town that really should be seen with loved ones, like Paris. I'd love to take everyone with me and show them around this truly amazing city. It's a place that I strongly encourage everyone to take time out of their busy lives and experience some day. I promise, you'll never be the same again.

Here We Go...

Blogs are dumb, but some of you have asked that I give updates on what has been going on here during my stay in Europe for the next month, so here you go. This place is called Existential Dread because it's what a psychiatrist once told me that I was living in, so I thought it would have been a cool title for a book if I ever made something of myself. I didn't and probably won't, so this is what I am calling my blog. I might have been in dread a few years back, but really, travelling around Europe does not equal dread. Life is good.

This is my second full day in Madrid, but I'd better get you caught up on how everything went down before I got here.The flights out to Europe were pretty simple enough. The only problem I had was the inability to sleep flying from Chicago to Dublin. I made the stupid decision to stay up all night the previous day, thinking I could sleep on the plane. WRONG. It was a pretty miserable, but made tolerable by the fact that Aer Lingus gave me a free upgrade to economy plus, giving me a window seat in the first row behind first class. I spent most of my time looking out the window during the flight. There was a brilliant moon out, and it illuminated the Atlantic Ocean below me. There was something incredibly soothing about seeing each ripple in the ocean moving in the opposite direction of where we were going.

When I got into Dublin, I was really excited to head into town and visit some of the sites that I didnt have the opportunity to see last year. I bought my shuttle bus ticket into the city and made the ride into the city center. The bus dropped me off in the Temple Bar area (aka where all the tourists are). I walked about a mile out to the Archaeology Museum before I noticed how empty the streets were- no tourists in sight. I had completely forgotten that it was Sunday, and that most everything didn't open up until after noon or not at all... including the pubs. Wow. I came to Dublin to just look at a bunch of closed signs on doors and windows. I was screwed. Since there wasnt anything I could do, I decided to walk out to the River Liffey so I could nod off on a bench while watching young punker kids walk by looking like they just came out of a UK/Sex Pistols 1978 time warp, and the painful sounds of U2 being played by some guy with a boom box (I'm not kidding, U2 is overplayed there. I know they're proud of them and all, but still... my ears are slowly bleeding).

I must have been on the bench for an hour and a half, looking like a fat junkie with my constant nodding off and wrinkled/stinky clothes. I must have been a sight to see. I decided to get up and try to find something to eat so I could stretch my time out and not spend it looking like a transient. I made my way back into Temple Bar and found a place called the Bad Ass Cafe. They serve breakfast all day, and it looks like a fine establishment where you can have a Guiness with your beans and eggs in the morning after a night of partying at the clubs, and that's what it was inside. Irish kids probably not much older than 18 hiding their faces behind sunglaseses, boys with weird hair wearing pink Paris Hilton t-shirts, and girls looking like they just finished turning tricks around the corner all hovering over their plates of white pudding and beans while talking about how amazing the previous night was and how much they hated their lives. I felt their pain. At least about feeling miserable, that is. It's kind of hard to enjoy being where you are if you feel like you have a desert in your eye sockets and an anchor in your feet.

Anyways, the food was good for being so bad, and I decided to head to the airport after 5 hours of doing absolutey nothing in Dublin. I'm sure I'll be back, but I would like to get outside of the city next time and explore the countryside. It looks beautiful from the sky. It was about this time that I remembered that I forgot to pack my camera's battery charger, so that means only a few photos before my camera dies - not a good thing considering I was planning on taking tons of pictures during my time in Pompeii next week. Crap.

When I got off the plane here in Madrid, it was like a shot of energy hit my body and I was ready to take on the entire city. I was really excited to be back here, and I couldnt wait to check into my hotel so I could dump all of my stuff off and get going on the streets. When I got to my hotel, the Hostal Cruz Sol, near Plaza Mayor, I came across a bum who kind of had a passing resemblence to Charles Manson. He had a huge poster tube type of thing in his hands, and he screamed while making a slashing movement from his back all the way down near my head, stopping short of striking me. I gave him a dirty look and he gave me a mentally imbalanced stare (hard to describe, he definitely didnt have all his marbles). What an interesting start to my stay back in Madrid.

After checking-in, I walked out to look for some tapas at bars across the neighborhood. I jumped from one place to another, eventually making my way up to an area close to the red light district near Grand Via. I stepped into bar that serves little sandwiches and beers for 1 Euro each, so I filled up fast and cheap on some really delicious selections of food. After I finished, I heard a commotion outside, so I decided to see what was up. I walked down the street headed down to the main plaza in Madrid, the Puerta del Sol, when a prostitute (she was wearing a one piece outfit that made her body look like sausage stuffed in casing- YUCK - and her makeup was over-the-top... almost circus clown worthy) grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back violently, enough so that I had to turn back to talk to her because I needed my arm back. She had quite a motor mouth on her, and she asked if I wanted this or that for a low, low price. I kept walking as she laughed behind my back. Undoubtedly, her mom and dad are proud of her.

When I got to Puerta del Sol, there was a huge throng, probably 200-300 people dressed in blue and white, holding flags of Argentina and singing national anthems while climbing the statues scattered around the square. I had assumed they beat Mexico in "el Munidal" (the World Cup), and the expat commuity here came out to celebrate. It was interesting to see, but what I really want to see is what would happen here if Spain beat Portugal in their match-up Tuesday evening. It's all the rage here, and hopefully Spain can pull out a win so I don't get my head smashed in by that bum.

My second day saw me waking up around 1pm. I slept for about 12 hours, and it felt so good after not having slept for a couple of days. The entire day was a tapas adventure from me, as I jumped from bar to bar and tasted lots of different things, like patas bravas (potatoes in a spicey sauce), acetunas (olives -lots of different kinds), many different types of jamon (ham) and queso (cheese) from around Spain, tortillas de patata (a pie-like dish made out of eggs and potatoes... very soft and tasty), and whatever the waiter gave me whenever I ordered my beer. Each beer comes with a tapa, whether it be one of these things, or an assortment of nuts or chips. I was at one bar where a man cutting the meats was really excited to see if I liked the chorizo he gave me, and asked me if I thought he cut them well. He seemed really happy about his work, so he kept rewarding me with lots of yummy things to stuff my face with. I paid 1.50 for my beer and got enough food to last me for the rest of the night. That's one of the things I love about Spain. Friendly people and lotsof great quality food for dirt cheap prices, if you can find the right spots. If you talk to people and speak their language, or at least make an effort to try, you will usually get rewarded with anything from a smile to free food or drink. I don't want to leave Madrid, but I have Rome next, so I can't complain. There's just something about Spain that really makes me feel comfortable (aside from being able to speak Spanish), and a big part of that is the people and the environment they've made here in their country. Its truly one of the great and underappreciated countries of the world.

Today, I am sitting at a cafe called Cafe de Oriente, right next to the Royal Palace in Madrid. There is a large statue and gardens next to my table, with a great view of the palace (as you can see in the photo above). I know I am going to pay out the nose for this coffee, but its worth it. The view is spectacular, and the vibe is extremely mellow. There is a little tension in the air across, as Spain plays Portugal tonight in an elimination game in the world Cup. There are flags of Spain flying from balconies, and people are walking around in their national jerseys. Yesterday at a sporting goods store, while looking at soccer jerseys and handling a Portugal shirt (Jordan is of Portuguese descent), a worker game up to me and said rather loudly "You guys are going to LOSE tomorrow!" I told him to take a look at the size of the jersey (medium) compared to me, and told him I was looking for somethig for my girlfriend. He was much nicer after I cleared all that up. He actually seemed offended that I was supporting Portugal in any way. It should be crazy tonight. The police presence here has grown compared to yesterday, and I expect quite a scene here if they win tonight, and probably a really somber city if Portugal takes them down. In any event, it should be quite an interesting experience!

Time for more tapas and beer.

-Scott