Rasmenia

“It is disturbing sight, to encounter these bodies tormented with suffering, anguish and fear, and petrified by suffocation in their appalling postures…” -Marcel Brion

*

When I was in the 9th grade, I had to take an Earth Science class just like all of the other 9th graders in my school. My teacher was a crazy guy named Mr. Schultz who had a tendency to be very animated when explaining things like earthquakes, tidal waves, tornadoes & volcanoes. One day, when we arrived for class, Mr. Schultz was all dressed up like a Roman soldier. We all laughed because it was weird.

Actually, it was pretty fun. I never forgot it. Partly because I have a soft spot for wackiness. And because that was the day I learned about Pompeii. Standing in front of the class in helmet, armor & swordbelt, Mr. Schultz showed us slide after slide of a city forever frozen in time. He explained with excitement how Mount Vesuvius erupted, how the ash & pumice buried the city… how it was forgotten & then uncovered. I was excited, too. This was some fascinating shit.

I told myself then & there that I would go. I would go to Italy & see this place.

It took some time. I’ve been out of the 9th grade for… well, for a while.

The road from Rome to Sorrento is a bit long & to tell the truth, not all that scenic. Much of it is spent passing through Naples, which our handy guidebook described as “decidedly seedy.” Exact quote. I shit you not. With good reason. Naples isn’t even a little bit nice. We planned to see Pompeii & Herculanum, which are both located in Naples, but we decided to stay for a couple of nights in Sorrento, then take a day trip by train to the archeological sites in Naples.

The train ride took about 30 minutes & when we arrived at the Pompeii site, there wasn’t much of a line, so we got to the ticket window in just a couple of minutes, only to be turned away for not having cash because trying to get anyone to accept a credit card anywhere around Naples is almost impossible. So, we went to the ATM at the entrance, got the cash, then found ourselves in line behind dozens of people who apparently materialized out of fucking nowhere. This gave us the fun opportunity to fend off people trying to sell guided tours & American tourists wanting to know where we’re from.

A half hour later, we had our tickets, a couple of those super-cool audio guides & were on our way inside. The aggravation from just a few minutes ago began to ebb away as we entered the ruins of the city.

Believe it or not, we actually got there before it got crowded.

It turned out that the audio guides were the way to go. Guided tours tend to rush you through things & having no guide at all would really diminish the experience, as you’d be missing out on all kinds of interesting explanations & information about various buildings & sculptures.

However, some things needed no explanation.

I spent the entire day, running amok like a loon, snapping photos, pointing at this statue, or those temple ruins. I folded & unfolded my map, kept my audio guide pressed up against my ear as I cursed & gave the stinkeye to all the lazy fucking tourists who climbed on the fragile ruins, or sat on them with no regard to anything except for their own fat asses.

We do this at home, too, but with TV & Fritos instead of fresh air & history.

We visited the famous brothel of Pompeii, which is actually quite small. There are few beds & while they are separated by walls, they’re still very close together. I probably had more space & privacy when I was an office peon working in a cubicle farm. However, some of the wall frescoes are somewhat intact, so you can still catch a glimpse of some sexy fun time porn pictures while ambling through Pompeii with the rest of the slack-jawed bovine tourists.

So. Hot.

Many people believe that Sodom & Gomorrah was actually Pompeii. Whatever. Why not.

It was early afternoon when we realized that our feet were killing us, we had forgotten to bring snacks & our stomachs had started wrapping themselves around our spines. Oh, yeah… & we still wanted to see Herculanum, which was 30 minutes away by train & would be closing at 7pm. So, we began our quest for food. While there is a modern fast food place right in the middle of the ancient city, we didn’t eat there because… well, because I was annoyed that it was even there, it was crowded to the point that the building looked as though it was vomiting human bodies from its every orifice & it was an Autogrill, which in reality, is not food, but grease-soaked offal on a bun.

So, we exited the city & found a juice bar that served fresh paninis. The juice was made from the lemons that can be seen all over Sorrento & at that moment, was the best goddamn panini & juice I’d ever tasted.

We were right by the train station, so we went over to wait for the train into Naples with some other American tourists. One of them was from Colorado, so I was happy to chat with one of my people, as that hardly ever happens to me anymore. Before long, we were in Naples, looking down at the city of Herculanum.

There it is. Well, part of it, anyway.

I would argue that Herculanum has been preserved better than Pompeii. It’s smaller, but it’s a lot more colorful & some things survived here that didn’t survive Pompeii. Like wood. We actually saw wood still intact in some places. The paintings & mosaics were truly unlike anything we saw in Pompeii. Unfortunately, not quite as sexy, but still very, very cool.

Well, maybe still a little bit sexy.

We stayed as long as we could. The sun was setting & most of the tourists had gone, so we almost had the city all to ourselves. It was nice, until we found ourselves waiting at the train station in Naples which was, exactly as the guidebook promised, “decidedly seedy.” We succeeded at not getting mugged or stabbed & a little over an hour later, we were back in Sorrento, celebrating with some very non-Italian Guinness with fish & chips from an English pub.

Olivier & I clinked our pint glasses as a little cat mewed & scurried past us toward the back of the restaurant. I told him about Mr. Schultz, his wacky Roman costume & slideshow of Pompeii.

“I knew when he was all worked up & showing us those slides that I would go see it eventually,” I said.

“And now you’ve seen it.”

“Yeah. It took a while, but I’ve seen it.”

“Another mission accomplished.”

“Nah… I still have the rest of my bucket list. It’s still a big list.”

“Maybe because you keep adding things to it,” he said.

“Yeah… maybe.”

“Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.” -Robert Browning

*

Our first mission upon arriving in Rome was: find the bed & breakfast. Second: find food. The first was easy enough, though the bed & breakfast wasn’t really a bed & breakfast. It had a bed & some snacks, coffee & juice there that were very breakfast-like. To be more accurate, it was a 2-bedroom apartment, right there in the city & with a pretty nice view. Which is okay.

As we checked in, the owner  informed us that a French couple was staying in the other room & that we’d likely see them during our 3-night stay. Whatever. No big deal.

He & Olivier chatted for a moment while I went to the window to check out the view again. Only… I couldn’t  see a damn thing, aside from an enormous cloud of stinking smoke that had suddenly blocked out the sunlight. I made an announcement about Rome burning because, you know… it’s not something I get to do everyday. Everyone rushed to the windows, quickly closing any that were open. We were up on the 8th floor, unable to see exactly what was on fire. We could smell burning plastic. We heard cracking & snapping. Somewhere behind the smoke, we could see the flicker of huge flames.

“This is not normal,” our host said. “There is a little market below. They sell fruit, vegetables… things like that. So, don’t worry. Fire is not a usual thing.”

Oh. Okay. As long as it's not a usual thing.

He shook our hands. He wished us a pleasant stay, then left us to enjoy the wafting toxic smoke. We didn’t know what else to do, so we said, “Eh. Fuck it.” We brought our luggage up from the car. We freshened up, then headed down to the street to join the onlookers & fire trucks.

We took a gander at the damage, which looked to be mostly just one little vendor booth, not the entire market. No one was hurt, aside from some poor salesman’s business. Deciding gawking really isn’t much fun, we embarked on our quest for pizza & wine.

Bottle of red in hand, we found a pizzeria & went inside. We gazed at all of the pizzas behind the glass, all available by the slice. We asked for two of everything. Evidently, this is not normal. The girl behind the counter gave us some weird looks & asked us if we were sure. “TWO? Of EVERYTHING?”

We took our two of everything & our bottle of wine back up to the room, which still reeked of burning plastic. Toward the end of our gluttony, the roommates arrived. Luckily, another couple around our age who didn’t seem to be annoying or too insane.

In the morning, we went straight to the Colosseum because you know, that’s the shit you have to see in Rome. When you step out of the métro & look up at it, it knocks your jaw right open & leaves you feeling very small & very new because compared to something so enormous & old, you are.

The girl at the entrance couldn’t be bothered to use words or eye contact to communicate with us. Instead, she relied on eye rolling & pointing. What she  pointed at, we couldn’t say. We walked in the direction she pointed us toward. We found only more tourists, bumbling around, wondering how to get inside.

There's a slight chance she was fucking with us. Slight.

After a few moments, we were approached by an Italian woman who said she was a tour guide. For 25 Euros each, we could get tickets, plus a guided tour of the Colosseum, Forum & Palatine Hill. Okay… sure. Why the hell not.

She handed us over to another lady & we thought we’d be able to go in, but we didn’t. We had to wait for them to sucker at least 6 more people. So we stood around with another couple, waiting. We waited for over half an hour before we threatened to try to find tickets & go inside on our own. Tour guide relented & said we’d start the tour, but what she actually did was stall for time while her partner frantically cornered tourists to make her sales pitch.

A few minutes later, we were handed over to yet another person, an American girl, who gave us a brief & unremarkable tour of the Colosseum. Not to say that it isn’t impressive – it really is. The guided tour just sucked.

It looked just like this. Minus the roof, floor, burning bodies & most triumphant gladiator.

Afterward, we ran amok on our own, making our way all the way around, before meeting the rest of the group outside for our tour of the Forum.

Of course, we were handed off to yet another tour guide, a British guy who at least had the decency to use sarcasm & humor during the tour. However, his tour through the Forum & up the Palatine Hill was rather half-assed. After it ended, Olivier & I spent another 2 or 3 hours wandering among the ruins, taking pictures & eating shit repeatedly from stumbling along all of the worn & uneven stones along what used to be streets.

In between taking adorable photos of ourselves, of course.

It was around 3 or 4pm when we realized we’d been geeking out so hard that we’d forgotten to eat. We quickly made our way to the Hard Rock Cafe because we just happen to really, really like their food.

After we’d stuffed ourselves like fat bastards, we went on a bit of a walking tour & encountered the horrific & chaotic crowd at the Trevi Fountain. The clusterfuck made it nigh impossible to get near the fountain & my disdain of crowds made the thought of any attempt unbearable.

But, we did manage to get a few photos.

The legend is that one must leave a coin in the fountain to guarantee they’ll return to Rome again one day. I didn’t leave a coin, so perhaps I won’t be back.

If you believe in that kind of thing.

Five years. Five years since I’ve worn a dress. Five years since I’ve had my feet in a shiny new pair of girl shoes, standing next to a crazy French man in a funky pinstriped suit with a pink ribbon in his hair. Five years since we stood there next to one another, in la mairie du 18éme arrondissement in Paris, listening to some very official-looking guy who rattled on in French.

I barely spoke any French at all then, but it seems that very official-looking guy was jabbering on about wedding vows. I didn’t really understand any of it, but apparently, we got married that day.

I think so, anyway. I really have no idea what Fancy Sash was talking about.

I’ve read that the typical gift for a five-year anniversary is wood.

Fucking wood? Sure, wooden things are nice, but, um… no thank you.

Usually, on our anniversary, we’ll go away for the weekend, or pick a really nice place for dinner because Olivier & I really dig a nice quiet atmosphere where we can be alone. Also, we really, really like dinner. Ok, food in general.

This year was no different. Well, it was slightly different. We were in Greece, after all.

We woke up early, got ready & had breakfast at our hotel. We stuffed ourselves with more of the thick, creamy deliciousness of the Greek yogurt & thick, dark Greek honey. Then we were in the metro that took us closer to the Acropolis.

As it turned out, we couldn’t have picked a better day to go. March 25th is Independence Day in Greece, so all of the historical sites were free for the day. We just strolled right in without needing to get any tickets.

Olivier & I stopped to check out a few sculptures at the entrance, then made our way slowly up the southeastern slope of the Acropolis. Within a few minutes, we arrived at the Theatre of Dionysus. The cool part is, it’s not fenced off, so you can walk right in & sit on the limestone seats.

We continued on, passing ruins of the Sanctuary of Asclepius & the Stoa of Eumenes. Just before we reached the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, we of course met up with another one of these awesome Athenian dogs.

We continued on, passing more ruins until we finally reached the top of the hill. Climbing the steps, arriving at the place where an enormous statue of Athena Promachos once stood. On the north side, next to the fallen ruins of the Old Temple of Athena, stands the Erechtheion:

Which was impressive. By impressive, I mean staring slack-jawed with awe & wonder, trying not to have a total geek-gasm in front of all the other tourists.

I almost managed to keep my geeking mess to myself… until I found myself standing in front of the Parthenon. Standing there, looking up at this thing, it was one of those surreal moments where you feel kind of like you’ve been magically inserted into a movie set, or a photo in some travel guide.

One of those moments when you look up at something & feel so very small. When you see what human beings can accomplish, how long it can last… & you start to ponder just how little you’ve accomplished & just how temporary you are.

You know that feeling? It was kind of like that.

A subtle reminder of what slackers most of us really are.

With all of the history surrounding us, all of the awe swimming around in our slack-jawed heads, we did what any two sane people would do: asked a stranger to take a photo of us being dorky tourists.

A person can geek out on something for so long before they have to move along to get their nerd on elsewhere. We took our time to make our way back down the slope, enjoying the view from the top, overlooking Athens. Once we reached the bottom, we only had to walk for a couple of minutes before arriving at the Acropolis Museum, which had also waived the entry fee for Independence Day. Score.

The museum is still quite new, having only opened in 2009. The really bitchin’ thing about this place is that an ancient Athenian neighborhood was discovered underneath the site of the museum & has been incorporated into the museum’s design. As you approach the entrance, the glass flooring lets you see the ruins of the old neighborhood below.

Inside, there are several sculptures & other artifacts from the Acropolis & visitors can watch a cool little movie explaining the history of the Parthenon from the time of its construction up to the present day. This actually pretty interesting because maybe you didn’t know, but the Parthenon has been through some serious shit – the Roman Empire, Christians, Ottomans… Venetian mortars. Serious. Shit.

But, anyway… like I was saying.

What the hell was I saying?

Oh. Right. Five years. This was still our anniversary, after all.

We had made a dinner reservation the day before at a nice place in the Plaka, which is the old part of Athens. It’s the area just under Acropolis, so it is quite touristy. But, we weren’t in the mood for off-the-beaten-path. We were all about a nice, mooshy, sappy, lovey food fest with plenty of wine & ouzo. This was just the place.

The restaurant, Ελαία, (Elaia) has a rooftop dining area & we had a view of the Erechtheion as we drank our booze & ate our food. It’s now one big blur of ouzo, salty cheese, lamb & tarama. I would provide photographic evidence of this outing, if it weren’t for the fact that all of the photos taken that night look like total shit. This is likely due to a combination of poor lighting & good ouzo.

We decided to skip dessert & instead stopped for some gelato on our way back to the hotel. We took our time, strolling around, being all tourist-like, stopping now & then to peek inside a shop. It didn’t take long before another one of those Athenian doggies came along & decided to walk along with us for several blocks before he got bored & ducked into an alley.

By the time we returned to our room at the Apollo Hotel, my feet were screaming. Calves & lower back, aching. I was sore & exhausted as though someone had kicked my ass, then stuffed me full of meat, booze & gelato.

It felt AWESOME.

But all day long, until we had finally passed out for the night, I couldn’t help but wonder what all of those structures & sculptures that I had been surrounded by all day must have looked like when the Acropolis was thriving, when it was crawling with Athenians & worshippers instead of tourists.

Sure beats a piece of wood.