For some reason I had always pictured Pompeii as a small village. This is what happens when I travel. I learn.
Even in January, the train from Naples was crowded, and I wondered how much busier it must be in the summer months. At one point, we stopped at a station well before Pompeii, and everyone began to rush out the open doors and across the platform. There was no time to wait for an announcement in English, so instinctively my sister and I followed, not wanting to be the only two people left on our train, which apparently was going out of service. So we boarded a second crowded train, and our journey continued.
Peering out through the dirty, graffiti-covered windows, I watched hopefully for some sign that we were getting closer to our historic destination, not knowing until we were almost there that I had been staring at Mount Vesuvius for most of the trip. I should have known. It towered above every other nearby mountain.
Arriving at the Scavi station, we hopped off and made our way to the site entrance. The day was cool and windy, but the sun was beaming down, and I was beaming too. After all, Pompeii was on my bucket list, and I was excited to know I had made it before literally kicking my own bucket.
Had I done my research ahead of time, I definitely would have made arrangements to return for a second day of exploring, for as I quickly discovered, Pompeii is not a small village.
Once we started our trek through the endless streets of stone, I knew it would be impossible to see everything in one visit. In fact, the guidebook I purchased on the way out suggests that a “complete” visit will take no less than four hours, so plan accordingly. I would also recommend familiarizing yourself with the layout of the city before you arrive, so that you can map out your walk in advance and make the most of your time. You’ll find a wealth of information and free downloadable maps at www.pompeiisites.org.
I purchased an audio tour on the way in, but I was confused as to where in the sprawling ruins we were, so I gave up and started taking pictures and video. I’d already decided I would have to venture back on my own someday and devote a day or two to solitary exploration.
Mount Vesuvius erupted in October 79 AD, and the resulting shower of ash and pumice that rained down on Pompeii literally froze the city in time. The first excavations didn’t begin until 1748, and over the years, many of Pompeii’s frescoes, statues, furnishings, and other trappings of everyday life, have been moved to the Archaeological Museum of Naples. (Another stop you’ll want to make before or after Pompeii).
The first house we walked through was Casa del Marinaio – “House of the Sailor”. Its layout dates back to the 2nd century BC. It would have been considered an elegant townhouse at the time, and the residents even enjoyed a small complex of private baths. The house was named after a mosaic found in the entrance hall, which features six ships prows inside dockyards. Historians believe the Master of the House was most likely a ship owner.
That’s only one example of the various types of buildings you’ll find within the huge labyrinth of stone dwellings, streets, and shops. And no matter where you venture in Pompeii, you’ll eventually always find yourself staring up at imposing Mount Vesuvius.
Another fascinating building is the Lupanar of Pompeii, (below, left) the ancient city’s most famous brothel. It’s noteworthy thanks to the erotic paintings on its walls. According to Wikipedia, “The Roman word for brothel was lupanar, meaning a wolf den, and a prostitute was called a lupa (“she-wolf”)”.
Photo Credit: Writer Rebecca
Pompeii had 35 lupanares. We stumbled upon the Lupanar of Pompeii quite by accident, and what an incredible find it was.
Each room contained a stone bed, (right), and even fitted with a mattress as it would have been, it’s difficult to imagine it being comfortable. But then again, comfort wasn’t the reason customers patronized the Lupanar.
According to the guide book, the erotic paintings (such as those see below) were designed to “encourage the desires and fantasies of clients”.
What most entranced me about Pompeii was the idea that one might see actual “bodies” of volcano victims still lying in place where they had fallen in 79 AD, but in fact, thanks to not planning our visit beforehand, we wandered aimlessly for most of our time there. Lesson learned. Over a thousand victims have been found since excavations began.
The eruption trapped those remaining in the city under three metres of ash and pumice (lapilli). Buildings collapsed. The following day, “pyroclastic flows” and ash rained down over Pompeii. A pyroclastic flow as defined by Dictionary.com is “a hot (typically 800 °C, or 1,500 °F ) chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second)”. In the wake of the eruption, this event literally sealed the fate of those who had managed to survive and take shelter where ever they could.
Pompeii was buried under ash, pumice, and rubble up to seven metres deep in places, which is actually what helped preserve the city.
Centuries later, in the mid 1800’s, Director of Excavations Giuseppe Fiorelli also found a way to preserve the decomposed bodies, or rather, the solidified material that was imprinted into the ash once the bodies had decomposed. Digging would stop when an empty space, or body imprint, was found, and that space was filled with plaster. This way, Fiorelli and his team were able to create casts of many of the bodies. Most have been moved to museums for safe keeping, though a few are still at Pompeii. Notably in the “Garden of the Fugitives”, where the bodies of an entire family were found.
Graffiti is said to have been as popular in Pompeii as it is in towns and cities all across the world today, and as I write this during the time of Covid-19 with all of its uncertainty, I must admit that I felt some sense of connection when stumbling upon the story of a poem that was found (by a man named Matteo della Corte), etched on the wall of the Successus Shop in the Via dell ‘Abbondanza. (Street of Abundance)
Italian journalist, writer and scholar Carlo Avvisati translates it as, “Nothing can last forever: the sun that has shone, dives back into the ocean, the moon that was full, wanes, the violence of the winds becomes a light breeze.”
Hopeless romantic that I am, I also love the translation provided in the guidebook I purchased at the Pompeii gift shop: “Nothing can last forever/Once the sun has shone, it returns beneath the sea/The moon, once full, wanes, and (so) the wounds of love become a light breeze.”
There did seem to be a bit of a discrepancy with regard to the last line, and since when in doubt, it’s always best to invite a second opinion, I contacted Carlo Avvisati for clarification as to the translation. Carlo writes, “Epigraphists have different positions about the reading of the word you mention in the last line. Some of them read “Venerum”, others “Ventorum”. I think “Ventorum” is more (likely) correct, as you can see from the graphic I’m attaching (right). In fact, if the hand that wrote the sentences wanted to write “Venerum”, they would write the “E” similar to the other “E” contained in the graffiti. I followed the version of the famous epigraphist Antonio Varone, who translates it as “Ventorum”.
The translation is part of a project Carlo has been working on for the past two years – the Neapolitan translation of Pompeii graffiti, which he plans to publish in a book next year.
Regardless of whether the final line was meant to reflect on love or a wild tempest, it works either way, because both have a similar effect on humans.
In any case, I feel a connection with that early graffiti artist of Pompeii. Reading their words, one can almost sense how they were feeling when they left their thoughts behind all those many ages ago. I feel it too at this precarious time in the world, and as the ancient scrawler so poignantly put it, nothing can last forever – not even the wild tempest our world is experiencing right now.