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.”

“Rome! By all means, Rome. I will cherish my visit here in memory as long as I live.” – Audrey Hepburn, Roman Holiday

*

Rome isn’t an enormous city & it’s true that the Colosseum & the Forum are probably two of the biggest attractions there. Just by looking at the mobs of tourists in those places, it’s easy to believe that there really isn’t much else for visitors to see.

This, of course, is total bullshit.

Since Olivier & I hit these chaotic tourist places on our first day in Rome, we had our second & final day free to explore the city in a bit more detail.

We left early in the morning & embarked on a walking tour through the historical center of the city. This started at Largo di Torre Argentina. This archeological site is fenced off, but is inhabited by a large number of stray cats, hanging out & napping on the ruins of the site where Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C.

We spent a while here. Mostly because I was geeking out pretty hard & because… well, who doesn’t like standing around watching a bunch of cats lick themselves?

Some of them are even nice enough to pose for photos.

After this, we stopped by Elefantino. Okay, it’s just a sculpture of an elephant. It sits in front of a church. Rome is full of churches, & since we don’t really care much about churches, we were more exited by the elephant. We checked out the Pantheon, but only for a few minutes. There was some kind of church service being prepared & it was wall-to-wall dipshits with fanny packs & pasty, white legs, so we didn’t stay long before heading to Piazza Navona.

And also these guys who were... well, I don't know what they were.

Back in the 17th – 19th centuries, this place was occasionally flooded for mock naval battles. Now it’s filled with street artists, performers & fanny packs.

I would have preferred a mock naval battle, but whatever.

We passed through a big outdoor market & couldn’t help ourselves – we had to stop to linger over all the spices, pasta, meat & produce. The colors were hypnotic, calling like sirens, urging us to hand over money so we could stuff our faces with colors.

This is calling to you. It wants to be in your face.

Summoning as much self-control as possible, we picked up some spices, checked out a few more buildings, & then stopped for lunch.

It was only around noon & we didn’t have much a plan for the rest of the day. We were winging it. So, when we passed by the sign advertising an exhibition on Leonardo da Vinci’s machines, we couldn’t resist. After we gave the guy behind the counter our 18 Euros, we went down the winding steps to the exhibit & were pleasantly surprised to discover that this wasn’t one of those exhibitions where you just stand around staring at shit & reading. No, we got to actually play with stuff, so Olivier entertained himself for a while in there, getting his geek on.

After he was sufficiently geeked out, it was my turn. Well, after a stop for gelato.

Gelato prepared by Willie Wonka, evidently.

We headed straight for the Piazza di Spagna, where you can find the Spanish Steps that lead up to the Trinità dei Monti.

But that’s not what I wanted to see.

Next to the Spanish Steps is the Keats-Shelley Memorial House where John Keats died in 1821. The house is now a museum & has an impressive collection of letters & memorabilia. We spent a couple of hours in there, reading letters, looking at photos, paintings & other random objects belonging to Shelley, Keats, Byron & several others.

Upon leaving the Keats house, we decided that we were sufficiently drained, both mentally & physically. We jumped in the metro & returned to the neighborhood where our bed & not quite breakfast was located. Nearby is a restaurant called “Le Streghe,” which in English means “witches.” We walked a few blocks & soon after found ourselves seated on a large patio, sipping on red wine & shoveling gnocchis into our mouths. I’m pretty sure that by the time it was all over, my stomach was really just one big lump of cheese, shellfish & gnocchi. What we really got a kick out of was the witchy theme of the place. Witches on the walls, hanging from the ceiling on broomsticks as though in flight over the tables… a witch on the label of our bottle of wine.

One thing we considered doing during our short stay in Rome & that we have been asked about is, Vatican City. Did we go visit Vatican City? Uh… no.

But, didn’t we want to visit Vatican City? Um… no. Not even a little bit.

But… the Vatican Museum! The Pope! Other Popey, Catholic-type Vatican stuff! Nope. Not interested. Sorry. We didn’t go.

We instead spent the day getting our nerd on with artist & inventor shenanigans… reading hand-written letters from one poet to another about writing, loss & having adventures. Then we finished it off with some gluttony while surrounded by witches.

Like proper heathens.

After spending one week roaming around various corners of Italy, I learned a few things. I learned that eating gnocchi is more enjoyable when you get it from a waiter who greets you with a “buongiorno.” I learned that there are pickpockets everywhere & to keep an eye on your shit because they will get you in the métro station, restaurants, tourist attractions, shops, streets & while you’re having a shit. Every. Where. (No, I didn’t get robbed, it’s just that thievery is so bad in some parts of Italy that no one shuts up about it.)

I learned that there are no sexy gladiators hanging out at the Colosseum & to stop asking about them. I learned that eating a large chunk of fontina cheese before eating a giant plate of quattro formaggi gnocchi is a bad idea, as is eating snacks of questionable freshness that I find in the glove box. I learned that thanks to learning a bit of French, I understand more Italian than I previously thought. I learned that breakfast in Italy is a diabetic’s worst nightmare. (If you like starting your day with a big sugar slam, then go to Italy for breakfast.)

I also learned that Tuscany is worth all of the hype. I never believed all the romanticized shit I’d seen & heard about Tuscany, but as far as I could tell during the short time I was there, a lot of it seemed to be true.

We spent most of our time in Italy in Sorrento & Rome, but I’ll get to that later. From our house to Rome is a bit of a drive, so we had to make a couple of stops. Our first Italian stop was at an old Tuscan farmhouse near a medieval village called Montescudaio, not too far from Pisa.

Yes. This is a farm. I know, right?

Our plan had been to eat dinner at this place, then get some sleep before making the drive over to Pisa, then down to Rome the next morning. We knew we’d be having a decent dinner here, as they promise a completely organic meal prepared with nothing but local products, most of them from the very farm we were staying at.

What we didn’t know was that we’d be spending the next couple of hours steadily consuming bite after orgasmic bite, or that we’d be enjoying a meal that we would drool, moan & reminisce about for the rest of our natural lives.

The Happy Tuscan Farmer never stopped smiling as he brought plates of meat, cheese & salad. He brought us bread & wine, then stopped to tell us how all of these things were grown, raised & prepared. We stuffed ourselves with risotto, lamb & roasted potatoes as we listened to the Happy Tuscan Farmer – who spoke pretty decent French – tell us about his pecorino, wine & wild boar sausage.

Our host offered us a shot of grappa to help us digest. I’d never tried it, so I had to give it a go. It was pretty strong & sweet. Think of brandy that tastes an awful lot like raisins. Though, after looking at the bottle, I did accuse Olivier of letting me “suck down fucking Italian moonshine.”

By the time we’d finished our dessert & wine, it was all we could do to sloth our way back to our room to figure out the route to Pisa in the morning.

Luckily, this did not require being in an upright position.

In the morning, while I got myself ready to start the day, Olivier went wandering around the farm, taking pictures & communing with the olive trees. (He does that. It’s his thing.) He happened to stumble across the Happy Tuscan Farmer, already busy with his hands in the soil. The two of them were so happy to be talking about food that I had to go find my husband out among the olive trees when it was time for breakfast.

Actually… it was time for SUGAR SLAM! Like I said before, a diabetic’s worst fucking nightmare. Cookies. For. Breakfast. Two different kinds of gooey, sticky cake. White bread. Honey. Not my thing. Unfortunately, almost everywhere we went in Italy was like this.

Then again, the coffee in Italy tends to make up for it. So. Damn. Good.

Now that we were well protected against having any sudden hypoglycemic fits, it was time to head to Pisa.

This is one of those places that, after you see it on TV & movies so many times, it feels a little surreal when you’re finally standing right in front of it. It’s not as big as I thought it would be, but that didn’t diminish the experience at all – it’s big enough & still quite impressive to see.

There's definitely no shortage of dorky tourists.

We didn’t go up inside the tower. Reservations must be made 2 weeks in advance & they only take 40 people at a time up to the top, provided they are above the age of eight years old. While we are both old enough to take the tour, we just didn’t want to do it badly enough to make an appointment, then spend half the day standing around in a line in the hot sun before climbing a bunch of old, slippery stone steps.

We’re just kind of boring that way.

Instead, we strolled around near the Leaning Tower, making our way through the throngs of dipshits, then wandered about the city, which really isn’t very big at all. We sat outside under an awning & ordered a couple of big salads to eat as we watched the locals & tourists going here & there.

Rome was still a few hours away, so after lunch, we jumped back in the car, wanting to get settled into our room there in time for dinner. (Why, yes… we do plan everything around our feeding times, thank you very much.)

Some of the most impressive sights were still in front of us, but we knew damn well that we’d already eaten the best meal of the entire trip & had fallen deep under the spell of Tuscany & its happy farmer.

However, if you’re thinking about getting a place in Tuscany, don’t bother. There’s really nothing available.