The Pompeii beads

Dear Reader,

It's time to tell the story of the Pompeii Beads. It's the one my sister always asks me to tell and I always enjoy telling it.

It was my very first trip to Europe and my very first time in Rome. I had planned the "Grand Tour" mad dash around Europe on my own for the first time using my "Let's Go to Europe" book as well as Fodors, Fromers, Lonely Planet, you name it, I'd read it. I thought it was a well planned tour and felt very prepared but as we all know, things never go exactly as planned, especially on your first trip to Europe.

This story isn't about that, however. I'm just providing some background because I was very excited, you see. I'd dreamed of Europe all of my life; since my mom used to read Grimm's Fairy Tales to me and we saw Sleeping Beauty, I dreamed of castles and knights on horses and the Black Forest, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and King Arthur and Camelot. In fact, I loved Europe and everything about it so much that I chose European History as my college major. Yes, I was ready to go to Europe, that's for sure.

By the time we got to Rome we had already toured England and France for 8 days each riding trains and driving cars and taking ferries but nothing could prepare us for Italy until we stepped off the train and met the "barkers" waiting to take everyone to a hotel they were pushing. Usually I would have said "No" because I had my "list of hotels in my budget" but we were tired and chose a hotel across from the train station which turned out to be very nice indeed.

It was on our third evening in Rome that we walked to the Trevi Fountain after wandering all about seeing the Spanish Steps and the Piazza del Popolo nearby. It was lovely and crowded and romantic, ah, Italy. John and I got hungry and began to smell the wonderful aromas of Italian food so we followed our noses and were seated in a tiny little ristorante nearby. I can't remember the meal but I remember the booze. The food was a delight. That's all I know. The wine was red and a full liter. I think we had two liters. The waiter was ever so attentive. After dinner he insisted we try an array of liquers which he promptly brought to our table by the bottle and sat down with us. He poured glass after glass of liquers, bitter ones, and sweet ones, and ones that tasted like licorice, yuk, but we were having a ball and laughing and we were in Italy enjoying La Dolce Vita.

Unfortunately, neither of us really knew where we were. We had been wandering all afternoon and forgot to pay attention to the directions we had traveled. At midnight we were staggering down dark lanes in search of our hotel. It's a good thing we stayed across from the train station because that was on the map. But it was so dark John couldn't see the map and I kept sinking to my knees. Yes, I was totally bombed and no help at all. In fact, I was walking in a Z pattern all over the place mumbling and giggling and just having so much fun while John got more mad and scared at the same time. He finally had to grab me by the neck and hold me upright and force me to walk forward like a marionnette, which he said was pretty funny to watch. I would kick my legs out in front of me just like a puppet but everytime he stopped to consult the map, I would sink to the ground.

Somehow, we finally found our way back to our hotel and crashed instantly. Unfortunately for me, I must have gotten sick in the night and used the basin since there was no bathroom in our room. (Those were the days when we saved money by staying in pensiones with the bathrooms down the hall.)

The next morning we were supposed to take the train to Pompeii. I had no idea when I had planned the trip that it really wasn't good for a "daytrip" or how long it would take us to get there but we had planned to spend the night in Naples. Needless to say, I wasn't interested in Pompeii anymore because I felt awful from the hangover. But John was mad at me about the sink and the night before so he yelled at me to get up at 6:30AM and announced we were going to Pompeii so I'd better get a move on. I remember standing in the shower swaying and wishing I could die but I'm nothing if not a trouper. Somehow I got my act together and followed John as he ran to the train station and we managed to hop on the train just as it was pulling out.

It was a very crowded train in second class and hot too. All of the windows were closed and most Italians were dressed in their wool suits in the middle of July. The day was already getting hot and very humid and, of course, I felt lousy. I was dying of thirst too and didn't have anything to drink. The water on trains is not safe to drink. This was a terrible feeling with no relief in sight.

Once the train started bouncing around on the tracks, I felt even worse and had to make frequent runs to the nearest WC. I would return white faced and start to sob a bit while John glared at me. All the women, especially the older ones, began to glare back at John for some unknown reason. Then we realized that they thought he was beating me! A younger woman sitting across from us introduced herself and said she was from Malta but she spoke very good English. She explained to John the problem and John then told her I was sick. She explained this to the other women and they all let out a collective sigh of relief. If I weren't feeling so bad I would have laughed but I couldn't.

I told her I really needed a Pepsi. That's always been my drink of choice for hangovers but she cautioned me not to drink anything sweet but I didn't listen. When we made our first stop a drink vendor was outside the window and I hailed him down and bought one. It tasted great but then I got really thirsty and was sick again. She was right.

While we rumbled along we realized we were on the slow train from hell. It stopped at every single tiny town along the tracks. Only one building was required evidently to merit a stop by this train. You see, I thought the espresso train would be the fast train but it is just the opposite. The espresso stops everywhere and takes up to twice as long to get to Naples as the fast train. This was great. Not only was I sick but sweating profusely from the heat and on the slowest of the slow trains.

I begged John to open the window and he got the permission of our lady friends and the air blowing was such a relief. But almost instantly a man sitting behind me facing the opposite direction jumped up and slammed our window shut. I was stunned and started to cry but John got mad. He jumped up and opened it again and the man jumped up and slammed it shut again shouting something mean in Italian. All the women around us looked disgusted and went oooooooooooooohhhhhh. John opened the window again and stop there daring the man to do something. The nice Maltese lady advised that the man had said a bad word and to "just ignore him, he's a pig". This made me laugh afterall. The fight continued for a bit longer and John managed to find some words to call the mean man and finally won. Way to go John!

We were traveling along the coastline and looking at miles of beaches when we stopped again at some outpost consisting of a few other tracks and a tiny shack of a train station. I saw a granitas stand and went for it. Granitas is frozen drink with fresh and very tart fruit flavors. I love limone. My mouth was watering and I just couldn't wait to get my hands on one. But there was a line and it wasn't moving very fast. John was watching from the window in his panic mode and kept telling me to hurry.

Then something very strange happened. All at once everyone on the train jumped off with suitcases in hand and started running across the tracks towards a train that was parked there. I had finally ordered my granitas when John ran up to me with our bags and said "Come on, we have to catch that other train now!". But, but, my granitas, but why? The Maltese lady had told John that our train was on strike but the other train was not. I thought John was crazy. I'd never heard of a train going on strike in the middle of a route. It seemed totally crazy. But then the Maltese lady stuck her head out the door and yelled at us to follow her so we did.

I didn't get my granitas but we did make the other train after running across the tracks and once again having to jump on the step of a moving train. We didn't even know where that particular train was going but at least it was going somewhere.

After what seemed like hours, we finally made it to Naples. I was feeling a little better by now and even able to navigate the station and find our way to the Circumvesuviana train which goes down the Bay of Naples coast all the way to Sorrento. The second stop is Pompeii. This is a very confusing station full of theives, pickpockets and con-artists and the Circumvesuviana is well hidden way down in the basement with no directional signs or explanations. It amazes me still that we managed to find it without incident and get off at the Pompeii stop. Of course, it was the wrong Pompeii stop. Yes, there are two. One right at the first entrance and the second requiring a good hike up hill to the other entrance. We chose the second because we just didn't know.

Now trudging up the dirt and gravel path up the hill, sweating, and gasping for breath in the heat I saw something beautiful to the eyes along the right side just ahead. A granitas stand! There were all kinds of stands with drinks and food and trinkets galore. I told John this time I was going to get my granitas no matter how long it takes. It was actually quick and I sucked the thing down in less than a minute.

Then I got interested in the other stands. Several had the most beautiful beads I had ever seen glittering in the sun. They were tiny and delicate pooka shells and different colorful stones. I told John I wanted to buy some and he got mad again and bemoaned that we would never get to Pompeii but I was determined. I ended up buying a necklass for myself and one for my sister, Marj. I was very proud of my acquisition and feeling very hungry too. "Let's go, I said." And we did.

Continuing our climb we both noticed a dizzy feeling coming over us and when looking down the earth appeared to move side to side. I didn't say anything because I assumed it was my hangover causing this sensation. It wasn't until after we were inside the ruined city that John finally mentioned it. Little did we know that the area along the Bay of Naples, especially in close proximity to Mt. Vesuvius, is in a state of constant earthquakes, usually small ones.

The tremblings got worse and worse until we witnessed a woman fall off of the stepping stones crossing the cobbled streets and banged her shin very badly. It was bleeding. We were freaked out and thought maybe Vesuvius was about to blow again so we both decided that the rest of Pompeii could wait for another day and we hightailed it back to the train station.

This time we caught a fast train, went back to the same hotel and checked in again; how silly it was lugging our bags to Pompeii, and promptly went out for another lovely meal in Rome.

Our trip continued on to Florence and Venice and then up to Vienna, Austria, across Austria to Germany, through Germany to Amsterdam and then back to Hardwick, England by ferry from Rotterdam. These places all provided good stories for us to tell after we returned home but my sister's favorite story is still about her Pompeii beads. After I told her what we went through that day and yet I stopped to buy beads, she was impressed and likes to say I went all the way to Pompeii just to buy her some beads.

Even mishaps can make happy memories that's why I always like to say when I'm given lemons, I make lemonade, or a lemon granitas!

Ciao bella!