I Explore the Mysteries of Pompeii

As a group of twenty one architecture students and four misfits (because, if you didn't know, the program I'm attending is an architecture one. It's okay, I didn't know it either, till about a week to go. And I only have three months left), we set out today for Pompeii. In terms of worldwide consciousness, Pompeii's story is about halfway between unknown and bible stories, around the level of Casablanca - nay, more than halfway, nearer to the story about my time as a fairy dancer. Pompeii was buried by a volcano in 79 A.D. - not by the lava, but by the ash, which floated down like snowflakes but didn't melt, and instead of bringing holiday cheer, killed everyone. The city was left undisturbed and unlooted, so when in the 19th century it was again unearthed, it was a figurative gold mine (literal stone mine) for archaeologists.

Let's be honest: I don't have a clue what is going on when it comes to archaeology. I'm just along for the ride. They've asked me to keep a sketchbook, along with everyone else; this sketchbook is partially filled with a series of incomplete Coloseums, and partially filled with drawings of aliens. So Pompeii went over my head. Wow, these are really big old rocks. Those faded frescoes are almost somewhat life like. Look at how those rocks are stacked! That's downright masterful.

I walked through most of the ruins thinking about something else, but at one point, not the begining or the end, it occured to me that people actually built these structures two thousand years ago. We build things with a planned twenty year lifespan. And it's not just the ash that kept it intact; there are other ruins, surviving as long, wearing the weather.

It's easy to write, but much harder to think. I can't even think it now; well, I can think it, but it doesn't mean anything. I guess the whole of the ruins are a little overshadowed by the rest of Pompeii. I walked through the modern part of the city on my way to the train station, in order to go to Salerno. Trash lines the sides of the streets as if a snowplow pushed it there to fade. It smells like old food.

The worst part, though, are the dogs. Even in the ruins, packs of stray dogs run free, unchecked. And I know that's something that Hal Naughton, Jr., said on Talledega Nights, but there it's true. Even on the streets, dogs lay in apathy or instinctively follow tourists. One native Italian had to pull a stray off the train tracks before the train pulled in.

And you thought this would be a happy post.