This morning we docked in Naples, our last port before heading back to Civitavecchia (Rome), where we would board buses to transport us to the airport. We had no interest in seeing Naples, but did have two things on our agenda: Pompeii and the Amalfi Coast. This was a port where we chose not to go on a ship's excursion.
Terry found Carlo Arcucci, of
, on
, where Carlo is very highly rated and the rave of the reviews. We set up our tour well in advance. We began with reservations for three, and then later added the two latecomers, Sheila and Wande. Carlo was very flexible.
While in Rome, Terry discovered a terrible error. He had arranged for Carlo to pick us up in Sorrento (where Terry was initially led to believe that we were docking; he refuses to take responsibility for this!). One day at the hotel, while reviewing the cruise itinerary, he discovered that we were actually docking in
Naples! He called Carlo (via Skype, which cost him only about 18¢), who assured him that this was no problem. He never showed any impatience as we kept changing our arrangements. It would have been bad for all if Carlo had been waiting for us on the dock at Sorrento, a good enough distance from Naples to have scuttled our plans.
We started off our tour for the Amalfi Coast in a very nice minivan. This is some of the most beautiful coastland in the world. The views are jaw dropping, and as you drive deeper and higher into the mountains along the coast it becomes more enchanting and seductive.
Some sources place the mythical Land of the Sirens here, in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off the west coast of Italy, where they resided on three small rocky islands, called Sirenum scopuli. With their beautiful and hypnotic voices, the Sirens lured sailors to their deaths in the destructive rocks. (It had to have been their voices, because upon closer inspection the sailors would have been repelled at their female heads mounted on the bodies of birds. Ew.)
We passed through delightful and picturesque towns and villages as we climbed higher into the mountains. The views were incredible and the towns and villages the most charming we had ever visited. As we rounded curves, we beheld gardens, olive and lemon orchards, coves, cliffs and bays. It kept getting better. Here we realized one of the big advantages of not taking one of the ship’s bus excursions: Carlo's minivan could go places where the buses could not.
When we got to Positano – a must stop – Carlo had arranged in advance for a parking space. (Parking is not easy there!) He oriented us and sent us off for an hour, allowing us to explore and shop. One of the main sights is the Church of Santa Maria Assunta, situated in the center of the village. Here resides a Byzantine icon of a black Madonna from the 13th century. Legend has it that pirates had stolen it and were transporting it via ship when a terrible storm came up. They heard a voice, presumably from the icon, telling them to put her down, so they dutifully dropped her off at the fishing village of Positano.
John Steinbeck, in his
Harper's Bazaar article of May 1953, “Positano,” wrote:
“Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone. ... The small curving bay of unbelievably blue and green water laps gently on a beach of small pebbles. There is only one narrow street and it does not come down to the water. Everything else is stairs, some of them as steep as ladders. You do not walk to visit a friend, you either climb or slide. Nearly always when you find a place as beautiful as Positano, your impulse is to conceal it.”
Adding to its allure was the 2003 romantic film, “Under the Tuscan Sun,” where some of the filming took place.
The walk around Positano was a little treacherous with its descending cobblestone streets, so Julie decided to meditate in the church while the rest of us made it down to the seashore. As Steinbeck wrote, there is no sand on the beach, just pebbles (rather large ones at that, but smooth).
We all did a little shopping, then retrieved Julie from the church. It was back to the car and then we were off for Ravello, with more breathtaking scenery. Carlo stopped often enough for us to take photos, but knew where to avoid the worst spots packed with buses and where you'd have to jostle for a view.
We arrived at Ravello and he dropped us off again, setting us loose for an hour. The five of us did different things. Three of us visited the marvelous Rufolo Garden, an 18th century palace, which inspired Richard Wagner's dream garden in his opera Parsifal.
We regrouped, and then drove a short distance – higher yet in the mountains – to Pontone, where we had a delightful lunch at Ristorante San Giovanni, overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. After that, it was off to Pompeii.
At Pompeii, Carlo had arranged for another tour guide (at a very reasonable price). This really impressed us, because Carlo's expertise was not in Pompeii. Other tour guides may have tried to wing it, but he knew his limitations and ensured the best possible experience for us. Our Pompeii guide was a former teacher and knew his stuff.
Pompeii was a Roman colony after being conquered in 80 BCE, although it was originally settled sometime between the 8th-6th centuries BCE. At the time of its destruction in 79 CE by the exploding Mount Vesuvius, Pompeii was a thriving town with an amphitheater, forum, aqueduct, fountains, temples (Jupiter and Apollo), bathhouses and brothels.
All of this changed abruptly in 79 CE, when the volcano Vesuvius erupted. Pliny the Younger, whose uncle Pliny the Elder died in the eruption, was an eyewitness and placed the eruption on August 24; later archaeological evidence, however, suggests that it was two months later in late November. Either way, the conflagration completely overtook Pompeii, as well as its neighboring colony, Herculaneum.
All had time to flee, but most did not recognize the danger until it was too late. Pliny the Younger wrote in his account:
“My uncle was stationed at Misenum, in active command of the fleet. On 24 August, in the early afternoon, my mother drew his attention to a cloud of unusual size and appearance. …He called for his shoes and climbed up to a place which would give him the best view of the phenomenon. It was not clear at that distance from which mountain the cloud was rising (it was afterwards known to be Vesuvius); its general appearance can best be expressed as being like an umbrella pine, for it rose to a great height on a sort of trunk and then split off into branches, I imagine because it was thrust upwards by the first blast and then left unsupported as the pressure subsided, or else it was borne down by its own weight so that it spread out and gradually dispersed. …My uncle's scholarly acumen saw at once that it was important enough for a closer inspection, and he ordered a boat to be made ready, telling me I could come with him if I wished. I replied that I preferred to go on with my studies, and as it happened he had himself given me some writing to do.”
And so it went. Pliny believed that poisonous fumes killed the inhabitants, whereas another theory held for many years was that suffocating ash killed them. More recently, studies have indicated that it was the intense heat that killed them. In any case, when it happened, it was swift.
What struck us all was the landscape. We had imagined a more flattened ground, with excavated pits where homes and shops once stood, but it was quite different than that. There are many structures aboveground, all in some state of ruin but standing nonetheless. The streets are still intact, where chariots once rode and left their ruts for us to see to this day. It was also much larger than we imagined. But the excavation is not complete. It was not until 1748 CE that excavations began. Considering that Pompeii was covered by 85 feet of multiple layers of ash and soil (hot mud came after the ash), we were told that it will take many years more completely excavate it.
Our guide took us to some very interesting places and regaled us with facts and engaging stories. After inquiring about our interest, he asked if we would like to see a room in a building with erotic frescoes. Nobody demurred, so he took us in. Since this is a PG-rated blog, let’s just say that after 1900 years, nothing has really changed in human recreational activity.
We walked the site for two hours, each of us taking turns with Julie to ensure that she didn’t trip on the cobblestone streets and uneven walkways. There were some remarkably well-preserved structures, from modest dwellings to elegant villas – some of the latter replete with inner courtyards, fountains, atriums, dining rooms and art galleries.
The skies kept clouding up and it sprinkled occasionally, and we were able to retreat for cover when necessary. Later into the afternoon, however, almost as if on cue from a Hollywood movie, dark clouds gathered over Mount Vesuvius. Loud, angry claps of thunder exploded in the distance like eruptions; lightning fired its sinewy bolts. This bout of fury intensified and the air vibrated around us. It was scary. Finally, it subsided and it was time to leave.
We bid our guide farewell and left in amazement at what we had seen and learned. We were dazzled. It seemed more like two days than one, with the contrasts of the beautiful Amalfi Coast and the ruined city of Pompeii. It was an unforgettable experience.
Remarkably, Julie endured the whole day, so upon arrival at the ship, she quickly went to her cabin to rest. We gathered on our decks to relax, but the ship did not pull out on time. Apparently, a ship-arranged excursion hadn’t yet arrived. The captain announced that we were going to wait for a while. We watched the staff out on the dock anxiously awaiting them, stanchions still in place, cool washcloths at the ready for instant refreshment. After an hour we departed; the captain’s announcement was a little muddled, but it sounded like he said we couldn’t wait any longer.
Naples had recently been hit by impromptu strikes from disaffected workers who decided that the best way to get their message across was to blockade traffic at inopportune places and times. Carlo told us that they had done that in Pompeii just that morning, and moved on elsewhere in the afternoon. The tour bus may have been a victim of the workers’ message. In any case, they would have to take a long ride from Naples to Civitavecchia to meet the ship the next morning, about 185 miles.
This was our last night on the ship, and we had to be ready for an early disembarkation. We were instructed to leave our packed luggage outside our cabin doors by 11 PM. Because of Julie’s injury, Terry had the joy of packing, so skipped out on dinner and went with the room service menu again.
Sheila and Wande did not want the Tones to feel stood up, so they opted to go to dinner. This was the last night to see how the Caper of Table 435 would turn out, with its numerous twists and turns.
At the table, the Tones already seated at the window, Mrs. Tone took the high road and suggested to the Mister that they change seats to mix up the seating a bit and let someone else enjoy their coveted location. If the Tones
were the force behind the caper, this was the chance for them to redeem themselves. Mr. Tone, however, refused. For many of us who may have had any doubt about who was behind the caper, this eliminated it.
We all put our luggage outside our doors on time (more or less->>Sheila) and turned in. We had to get up very early the next morning to catch our transportation to the airport, as we all had early flights.
For one last, treasured evening, we were lulled to sleep by the gentle movement of the ship and the sweet scent of the ocean air from our open balconies (and Julie by her Percocet).
