We left Rome, with a weird taste in our mouth.  The city is incredible, the crowds are distracting.  It is tough to make sure that you have your camera and cash after walking a block.  The Girl Scouts Gone Awry incident did not leave me feeling great about crowds and strangers in big cities, where everything seems to be a hustle.  The restaurant, Alla Rampa, was a great Birthday treat.  We spent too much money on food in Rome, and the hotel had the greatest folks in the world and lovely amenities.  But the city lost its appeal from the moment we stepped off the train.  

Roberto, the manager of the Concordia, had left for a few days holiday, so we did not get to thank him for the beautiful haven that he provided us with.  The night clerk got us a taxi, who did an extra circle of a fountained traffic circle to holler at another cabbie to roll down his passenger window.  He reached into the pocket behind the front passenger's seat of the cab he was driving.  He grabbed the Sunday paper that he had stashed there and threw it through the open window into his friend's cab.  I remember living in the student ghetto in Flint 30 years ago, and most of the neighbors would take turns on Sunday morning dropping a paper on 2 other porches of other friends.  Being that we were of questionable financial ethics at the time, the box that sold papers would not stop you from picking up 3 as you only paid to open it for one.  MY BAD.  But I remember the sharing of the paper.  We got to Roma Termini quickly and affordably.

Before I get too far off course I would like to remind a couple of young women to respond to their emails that folks on Holiday have taken the time to send, or we leave the German Marital Aids, that were selected with such care,  at customs and make do with cheesy post cards.  

Back to the trip to Napoli on the train.  We have a Eurail pass for 4 days (not in a row).  The intent was a trip to Napoli, change TRAIN STATIONS and then take another train to Pompeii and stay a few days.  This would involve 2 cab rides as we OVER PACKED.  We were warned that the station in Napoli was not as nice as the station in Rome and you had to be careful.  So I was prepared.  We unloaded more luggage than Sara Roarick took with her to her move to San Francisco.  And schlepped it for half a mile to the main part of the station.

SURPRISE, there were several Helpful people wanting to steer us to a waiting taxi.  In some cities, in the states, I would rather ride a gypsy-cab, but the whole idea of gypsy ANYTHING was not appealing.  We got to a certified, real life, municipally approved Taxi Stand and flagged a cab for about a 3 block trip that I did not want me and my bride to walk.  Marsha, always considerate, kept asking me if we should be telling him where we were going before he got us loaded into his cab.  It is much like a young lady telling an adolescent boy that there is no way he is getting to first base, let alone stealing home plate, long before the first soda is purchased or movie selected on a first date.  I said NO.  We got settled and he asked "Where to" more or less in Itanglish.  I told him our destination which was about 3 blocks away and would yield him a small fare.  

"Where are you going from there, Salerno?"  "No, Andiamo (we are going to) Pompeii"  I had looked up the phrase in a book, so I seemed less gullible.  "And then you take a train on a Sunday during a Holiday weekend and then get a cab to a hotel?"  He was good.  "Let me drive you there, it will be easier and cheaper" he more or less replied.  We have the damn Eurail passes, so the train fare was not a factor, but leaving one station to go to another and find a cab and the hotel, that was a factor!  We started haggling....NOT NEGOTIATING.  We had established that he was bidding on the opportunity to take us to the front door of the hotel that we had reservations at.  He started at 70€ and I offered 50€.  We can all guess where this was going.  Sixty it would be.  

And like a bat out of hell, he had us on the turnpike in just a few minutes.  While waiting in line to pay the toll, our cabbie started a conversation with a woman with her kids that were obviously in a gypsy-cab.  It was all very friendly.  When it was complete, he explained the circumstance.  

Craig's Version: I thought he said that she was the mother of his children and it was their First Communion day and they were off to the countryside to celebrate with family.
Marsha's Version:  She thought he said that the woman was his children's teacher, and was taking her kids for the First Communion celebration.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist, just a mother, to realize that this poor schmuch would not be working on the day of his child's First Communion.  Marsha's version made Mucho sense.  This guy drove over 140 kmh.  Marsha later asked how fast that would be in MPH, and I guessed at about 90 or 100, and will confirm this some other time.  This guy asked for directions at least twice when we got to Pompeii, once from the Policia.  Asking directions, in this case, does not break the Male Code of Honor And Pride.  It makes his job more profitable and is acceptable.  He commented that the name of the hotel  Amleto was from Shakespeare's Hamlet...the fence straddling Dane of infamy and a heavy body-count.

After putting our tons of luggage on the steps, I gave him the 70€ he originally asked for.  Nice guy, EXCITING ride  We fell in  love with Amleto, but Marsha has some issues about the bidet configuration that she will gladly share with anyone that appreciates a well designed piece of porcelain.  We rested a bit, and Marsha wondered how late restaurants would be open on Sunday evening so we started to tour the city, on foot about 5:30 (17:30 to be more europeanly accurate).  We found a place and it looked great, but deserted.  The proprietor was well into his wine, and came out to serve his only 2 customers...US.  We ordered a bottle of Rosatto, and he asked if we wanted to eat.  We did, indeed.  He said that his cook was not coming in to work till 7:00 (19:00), but he could throw a good salad together for us.  It was obvious that this guy had a buzz going, and he ran the place but was not the cook.....what would this mean?

Pompeii is a nice town, his café is in a good corner of the town square.  Location, Location, Location.  And a cook would be helpful.  He brought us a salad with bread that was Magnifico.  By 19:00,  we consumed a salad with roasted marinated eggplant, strange mushrooms, green banana peppers, 3 different lettuce, Zucchini, red pepper and 4 Mozzarella balls the size of EXTRA large hard boiled eggs.  It was arranged like a florist had done the job.  We finished with a lemon confection and cappuccinos.  A young kid showed up to work at around 7:00pm and a 15 minute argument began.  The kid got his butt chewed by a pro.  One of the men from the town square stopped by our table and said "He pays him when rain comes and there is no business.  When it is winter and too cold for the outdoor café, he pays him.  When it is busiest time of season, this kid, a Ukrainian with no permiso, that the patron sponsors to come over to work, comes to work when he wants."  It was a great bit of entertainment.  I think the kid was a waiter, as another worker was getting the kitchen rolling.  Our tipsy host fed us well, and allowed us to see a part of the job that would have made us uncomfortable, usually, but he showed us how human a man can be trying to earn his bread by running a café.

Pompeii came alive at Seven on a Sunday evening  for some holiday we were unaware of.  Kids, Old Folks and everything in between... including dogs, started jamming the center of Pompeii.  We worked our way back to our room, fighting back Italian pastry that were attacking from all sides.  And from our terrace we could hear a lot of music and activity over loud speakers in the square.  We went up to the roof garden and found a spot to observe what they were doing.  The Rosary was being read, there was singing, and the streets were packed with families.  After a while we went back down to our terrace and then the fireworks began.  What a grand treat to end a day!  Fireworks were going off on what must be Vesuvius, but we will know better in the morning.   Seeing the lights on the mountain was a great sense of awe and history.  Man was controlling these eruptions.  The last time God ran the show was in WWII.  A lot of damage back then, but none like the time that the town was buried and preserved in ash.

Just our first day and we have not yet seen the village preserved for hundreds of years in ash.  A lovely country town, with nice citizens and pleasant tourists.  And the food looks REAL promising!!!

Remove all doubt to email me.

craig@alldoubtrodgerson.com