I woke up the next morning at 7am so I could be to breakfast which started at 7:30. I got ready for the day, pack my bags, and donned my now dry clothes, the whole time surprised I didn’t hear others waking. I got downstairs at 7:30 and found myself alone. The sweet women came out of the kitchen with a confused look on her face and asked if I was ready for breakfast. I said yes. And with another confused look on her face, she proceeded to prepare me a croissant and some hot chocolate. She watched me for a while and then as if gathering enough courage came to my table and proceeded to tell me, (with many hand gestures, it was 6:30am. Capisci? I had missed daylight savings.
In the end, the extra hour worked beautifully. I decided to discover the modern city of Pompei. The city’s main Piazza was beautiful. An enormous Catholic church (for the small town of Pompei) loomed over a reflecting pool which was surrounded by benches and beautiful green grass. I walked inside and admired the art. The decorations. The gold. A while later I ventured outside again. The town was not yet stirring so I was able to sit next to the reflecting pool and just think. The sun was gleaming and the warm rays were welcoming. It was beautiful.
I was standing outside the gate to Pompei Scavi (the archaeological sight) 10 minutes before opening time at 8:30. When the gates opened I was the first one into the sight because I had bought a three day pass and the other tourists needed to wait until the ticket booth opened. (why they didn’t open the ticket booth before the opened the site is a mystery to me).
So I found myself alone in Pompeii. The first person to enter the gates. I wandered on some now familiar paths and found myself at the Garden of the Fugitives. I had wanted to see this garden so badly, only because it was the picture that everyone sees about Pompeii. There are thirteen people, of all ages, absolutely frozen in time. They ran to the garden for shelter but instead their lives were ended there. I couldn’t go home without seeing this famous scene. But what I saw and what I felt surprised me.
The garden is on the edge of the town in its own quaint corner. I curved around many vacant streets until I saw the garden. I walked town stone steps into a small yet beautiful garden. Birds were chirping. Sun was shining. Plants were growing. I was alone. Here in this tranquil garden this frozen scene of terror. Of shock. Of pleading. Children burying their heads. Mothers feeling helpless as their little ones perished. And here I was, standing 2000 years later. Watching their expressions. Their last moments. I could feel their emotions. panic. alarm. horror. pleading. The scene was unbelievably touching. The scene was so sacred I could bear to take pictures. Tears began rolling down my cheeks as I gazed at the children. The sweet innocent souls. After a while I tried to pull myself away, telling myself I had more things to see. I only made it to the stairs. Then I came rushing back. Leaning against the glass I let the tears flow.
Later, I found my way to the theater. Besides the garden, this was my favorite place. I walked into the small theater which was made completely of stone. It was small and intimate. I am sure the actors on this stage interacted with their audience and loved each night they preformed. I would have loved to sit on those stone steps and watched the actors. So close to me.
Unfortunately, the large theater was closed off because I think they were reconstructing the wooden stage. But, my curiosity got the most of me and I knew I had to see it. I found a super thin opening in the gate blocking the entrance. I pushed my bag through the slit and slipped myself in. It was well worth it. The large theater was astounding. I walked around just imagining the seats being filled with people. Oh how I wish I had been able to live then and walk down the street to the theater. Sit on the brick steps and watch a comedy, or tragedy play before my eyes. With people full of emotion. Dancing around on the wooden stage. How beautiful that would be.
I slipped between the gate again on my way out but to my embarrassment ran straight into a touring group who was peering through the gate as I was leaving. The tour guide looked at me with bewilderment as I managed to say scusa me. I wasn’t too sneaky of a culprit.
I walked through Pompeii’s streets one last time and then exited the Scavi not knowing that I would get a real taste of Napoli real soon.
