One Day In Pompeii

 

My brother Peter has invited me to write a story about 

my day in Pompeii with Carly, my daughter, so I’m going 

to attempt to tell you here in writing about the joy and 

the pain of our day there together.



Having done this, he has given me the great gift of

revisiting that day. The absolute ecstasy, pain and

hilarity that we encountered on our outing to

Pompeii in 2014.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a desire to visit 

Pompeii. I’ve read books about it. I’ve watched films 

and docos. I was in Sydney once, and the previous night 

I’d been to the “Gay and Lesbian Sleaze Ball”. I knew 

that there was a Pompeii exhibition at the museum. I 

was wandering down Oxford Street and realised I 

was around the corner from the exhibition. I was 

alone and had the time. I remember standing in line 

waiting to get to the ticket box and go in to view the 

exhibition, when all of a sudden I just burst into tears.
So much so that I was sobbing. I don’t know if it was 

the drugs from the previous night, or if it was merely 

my excitement at being near the actual items that had 

been brought here from Italy. But as will you see, I 

was about to appreciate this experience very much.

When Carly and I had decided that we were going to 

Italy, I wanted to go somewhere that would make it easy 

for us to get to Pompeii. We chose to be stationed in 

Salerno, as this was also close to the Amalfi coast, and 

a train ride away from Naples and Pompeii. The day 

after we’d been to the ruined city of Paestum we were

 set to go to Pompeii. We walked into town from our 

little apartment and there we found we had to catch a 

bus rather than a train to Pompeii. For some reason, 

trains were not in use at the time.

This was going to prove harder than we thought as
no one in Salerno seemed interested in helping us
understand how to do this. Was it our absolute 

inability to speak Italian? Was it merely because
we were foreigners? Everyone at the train station

brushed us off in a very cool manner.

So after hanging around for perhaps 30 mins, after
getting our tickets, then waiting for the bus, and
wondering if we were indeed going to get there at
all, it was so exciting to be finally driving on route
to the site. The bus seemed so huge in the small
streets of the surrounding towns as we pulled off
the freeway. We were dropped off after going
through the township of Pompeii with the walls of
the ruins of Pompeii on one side, and something
that really blew me away on the other side, was…
caravan parks!


They were mostly all closed up and looked for all
the world like parking lots or car sale and caravan
saleyards, so very different from Australia because
all the caravans and the concrete in the parking
spaces came right up to the edge of the road, and
were closed off by ordinary wire fences.


We got dropped off at this little carpark, and I did my 

best to make sure that I was asking the right questions 

about our return/pick-up, of the bus driver who, besides 

having no English at all, was in a hurry to get going. I 

said things like “What time does the last bus leave 

tonight?” I reiterated it in two or three different ways, 

and each time he told me “Si. Si. Si.” and gave me 

what I thought was a very clear understanding that 

buses left from this very car park at Pompeii, for 

Salerno. I really thought that was it. We were okay. 

We had the correct info for our return trip later that day. 

Not far to walk back to get on the bus. Easy! Yay!

The walk from the car park where we were dropped 

near the gates of Pompeii was only about 2 minutes, 

but, for me, nursing a foot with plantar fasciitis and 

uncomfortable shoes. I had already walked my feet off 

on this holiday that we’ve been on for a month. We 

were calling this holiday “Around the world in 80 days.”

Simply because our holiday was for 80 days. Which 

neither of us could believe in the first place because we 

couldn’t afford to take that much time off but we’d 

already booked it when we walked out of the travel agents. 

We both looked at each other and said, “80 DAYS!!!! Shit.

That is three months.” But against our better judgement 

at the time, we went ahead with all that we’d planned

that day in the travel agent's office in Chadstone, and I 

have never regretted our plans.

From what I can gather, there are three entrances
to the ruined city of Pompeii. We were dropped
off at the one near the Amphitheatre. That means
your walk towards all the little streets that weave,
through the town is a lot further. I found walking
along the streets of Pompeii not so easy, as the
cobble stones are huge and deeply rutted for
differing reasons.

Along the edge of each one is a deep rut, and also the 

stones themselves have deep crevasses from cart wheels 

rolling over them, and just general wear-and-tear to the 

much used stones that create the roads.

This reminds one that there was such a lot of life 

lived in this place. So many reasons for living. So 

much activity each day that this city thrived before 

that last day. Add also to the walking around factor, 

the township is not flat. I’d always imagined it as

flat. So negotiating walking, looking, taking photos, 

and finding your footing. And the emotions!

So, we entered Pompeii from the visitor centre 

leading towards this huge amphitheatre. Climb 

up the steps towards the township and look 

down over the amphitheatre, and the newer 

township of Pompeii, there is the sea, just over 

there. And up to your left, Mount Vesuvius looks

quite small really, yet in fact it is towering over 

this little ant colony with all its might. What was 

that huge thing in the distance sitting outside 

one of the houses in the little street. We 

couldn’t see properly. But Carly and I thought

it may be a bear. It turned out to be a huge dog 

that we came across a few times during the 

early part of the day. Who did it belong to? 

Was it a resident of the Pompeii site? It was the 

biggest, furriest dog I think I’d ever seen.

I told Carly, I’d heard there was a building where
they housed some of the important artefacts
found in the ruins. Also some of the people that
fell at the hand of the volcano that day. You’ve
probably seen these images. Hands up to their
faces, holding their child, holding each other,
foetal position, trying to protect themselves from
the lava, pumice stones, ash, gasses, smoke,
or the heat.

But I was not prepared for the large tin shed that housed so 

many findings. This shed has everything on shelves or on the 

floor, or on a makeshift pedestal.

But it’s open to the elements even though it has a 

roof, it’s not like a clinical tidy, clean space. 

It’s more like a huge garage! 

It’s a very emotional thing to see those figures in 

photos, let alone to see them in real life. I didn’t know 

then that all these ‘figures’ were plaster casts of the 

real people who died on that cataclysmic day.

One of the lovely memories 

I have of that  day was sitting 

in the Piazza with the sun 

streaming down on us as we ate 

our picnic of ham rolls and 

crisps that  we’d brought with 

us for lunch that day.

It’s difficult to try to express the feeling of knowing

what happened here that day. How amazing was this

place built by the Romans with their incredible bricks and

their cement that's a mix of cement and crushed tiles

that will withstand almost anything. And time has

proven this, some Roman buildings have survived

from the 13th century BC, more than 3000 years ago!

That may explain why so many of the objects found in

the city remained intact despite the eruption. 

Though most things had already been picked over by

the Spaniards and earlier archaeologists some of the

objects that survived have since been managed more

carefully and can now be seen by us in our time, and

for many a time to come. The beautiful artisans' works

on the interiors of rooms and in courtyards of houses.

The incredible buildings that survived and the way

these buildings were built by the Romans. Their brick

and cement work that withstood the volcano that day!

The roads and paths that wind their way through this

huge town. It’s mind blowing that the structures

have survived.

But let’s keep going with my memories of that day.

We walked and walked, right up to the top of the hill

where you can see the town below you and where

there are obviously some 'off limits’, behind the

scenes areas. Bringing the mind back to the fact that

you are in a kind of theatrical setting of sorts.

I kept thinking, “All of this is not real anymore.

Time is such a strange creature.

What would any of them think if they could come

back and see what happened to their city?

Their dreams of the future?

Their day-to-day lives are gone, just like that.”

One minute you are in some person's home, but there are

just so many. And that makes for a difficult choice...

Which home do you choose? 

It started to become evident to me that we were being

followed. It was the huge black dog. Just sauntering

along behind us. It felt kind of nice to have contact

with this magnificent animal. Walking down an ancient

street where there were probably lots of animals, sounds,

a hubbub, and smells of both the good and bad kind I

suppose. Knowing I was looking at a highly decorated

wall that was stared at by this or that member of a family

while seated at breakfast, lunch or dinner. A teenage

girl who wanted to finish quickly so she could meet her

boyfriend, perhaps on the sly? A father who wanted to

get to the hardware store with his slave to pick out the

material for the renovation of that room, that roof, or

something in the garden? A wife who hated being a

slave to her domestic life? And Boom! Gone. If you

didn’t run from the town that day, or if you were not

at your other home and not on holiday at this beautiful

seaside resort that day, you were a goner!

Anyhow. There comes a time when all good things must

end. So. We headed to the gate to find our bus. On the

way there we smelled the sweet smell of freshly baked

dough and other beautiful foods. A pizza bistro near the

gift shop at the entry/exit. And they were sending out

some pretty good looking pizzas. So we sat our tired

bones down, ordered a pizza to share, and ate what I

remember to be a very good pizza. Then we got up, my

feet ached more now than they had before we sat down:

a common effect of Plantar Fasciitis pain, and headed

to the end of the car park to wait for our bus. There,

lying on the corner of the side street and the main

road, was the big black dog. 

No seats. Just the dog, a lamp post, an emergency type

of telephone in a box, and us. We waited. It started to

get a little late. Probably about an hour later, we

decided to go ask at the bistro how often the buses

to Salerno come along. The Bistro was closed. The

gift shop was closed. Everything was closed. We had

no sims in either of our phones to be able to call

anyone, and who would we call anyway? How could

we make ourselves understood even if we could call

anyone? Oh… my feet, and whose dog was this? 

We kept waiting and now it was getting beyond the

joke. What about this telephone by the roadside with

the red button and a speaker in a box? It had a sign

that suggested something that looked like it was

intended for an “emergenza”.  Maybe it said “Polizia”.

And in our minds this was certainly an emergenza!

So we thought we should try it. We were getting really

nervous by now. Should we walk into town? How

would we find another bus stop that would be the

correct bus for Salerno? We called the emergency line. 

About 20 minutes later some kind of official car

pulled up to the curb. We tried to explain. They didn't

understand us and told us to keep waiting here. I think

that’s what they said anyway. So, the dog, Carly, and

I stood there. My feet were burning. At some stage,

in the dark, we decided this was stupid, so we started

walking past all these caravan parks. All closed of

course because it was December wasn’t it. Off season.

The dog followed. We kept walking, and realised that

if we kept going we were heading toward a freeway

where there was no pavement. Oh, my feet. I thought

they were going to fall off.

We cut across some kind of dead space with rubble,

weeds and rocks. The dog stayed steady with us. Then

we saw some town lights and started to see a few signs

of life. Had I mentioned that back wall at the entrance

to the site of the ruins of Pompeii, which we were

walking along, were just void of life. Hardly any cars

passed us on that corner. It felt very eerie. I digress.

But, “Oooooooh! My burning feet.” On we went until

we met a man who said there was a travel agent who

may be open at this time of night. Somehow he kind

of understood that we were at our wits end. The dog

followed us and the man led.

The travel agent's lights were on. There was a client

speaking with him. We waited. Terrazzo floor! Burning

feet floor, I should say. When he’d kind of finished,

I think I butted in, but he had no idea about any bus

to Salerno. The man who’d directed us helped us more

that the travel agent did. Anyway, it seemed we had to

walk along this road, continue until we saw the church, then…. I don’t know.

What happened from thereon is a blur really. Somewhere,

we lost the dog. At some restaurant where people were

sitting enjoying their evening. Families together. Why

didn’t we ask one of them? I think we were senseless at

this point. We saw a church. We turned right. There was

a bus stop….. on both sides of the road! We chose one

side. A bus came. Driver said no to Salerno. About twenty

mins later a bus started to pull up on the other side of the

road. We ran, or hobbled over there dodging cars, and

asked/pleaded/cried out. “SALERNO?” He smiled and

said, “Si’. We climbed into that bus which took us to a

stop about 5 blocks from our apartment. But we knew

where we were.

And that, dear “Friends of the Armchair Traveller”, is that!

Chris Tammer

8.5.2024