Okay. You guys saw my ‘plan’ for today, so I guess I don’t really need to tell you what went down. Right?

Ha. Jk. Here’s how it went:

First thing, I woke up and lay in a bed for a while. Standard. I was trying to get the motivation to get moving early, but that didn’t really happen. Around ten, I decided to mosey over to breakfast. And boy was I pleasantly surprised! Francisco had set up an entire little place setting for me and the last remaining guest to eat breakfast  (who never showed). Each setting had a plate, bowl, mug, croissant, muffin, and madeline. Then on the table was an assortment of teas, jams, cereal, and coffee, and when I opened the fridge, I found yogurt and milk. So cute!

I settled in with my book (er… kindle.. not proud of it, but I didn’t make the time to choose a good book to bring, and a friend had just given me a free kindle a couple days before my trip sooo…), and tucked in. After about ten minutes, Francisco rushed in apologizing for putting the orange juice away already, and he ran back from the kitchen to fill my glass. Seriously such a cutie.

After breakfast, I ended up…..

Lying in bed for a while. Ha! I was seriously so confused by my time in Naples. Never before have I been so lazy while travelling. It made me feel horrible, but at the same time I really didn’t care. I was catching up on rest and still seeing plenty.

I spent some time reading around on what to do since it was clear I would not have time to do the ‘everything’ I had originally been planning. I had been debating going to Pompeii, because I wasn’t really in the ‘walk around and look at things’ mode that I am in normally when traveling, and I also didn’t have a serious desire to see many petrified, lava-covered humans…. I didn’t think my tired brain could handle that at the moment. But still, even Rick Steves seemed to think it was a necessity when in Naples even only on a day trip, and the train was fast and cheap, so I figured I should make the trek.

I also noted that most people recommended the Naples archeological museum as the number one attraction in the city. I’m really not a huge fan of archeological museums. I much prefer paintings or other art forms, with natural museums coming in second. However, the archeological museum was made up mostly of art and objects excavated from Pompeii, so the general consensus on The Internet was that it was a good idea to see what had been IN Pompeii before seeing the empty, deserted ruins of the ancient city itself.

So off I went! I bought my tickets to and from Pompeii, giving myself a couple of hours to wander Naples and the museum, a couple of hours to wander Pompeii, and a train ride back that would get me in the apartment before dark.

On my way to the museum, I grabbed a granita and took a detour to the Duomo. It was closed, unfortunately, so I couldn’t actually go inside.

 

I wandered a little longer than planned and managed to stumble upon quite a few markets.

I also started being less freaked out by the city and more appreciative of its long, busy streets full of apartments and laundry hanging out windows. I realized that’s why Naples is so crowded all the time: practically every building is an apartment complex. There are just so.many.people. living in this city. They really cram them in!

I finally made it to the museum, where I posed with emperor Titus  (I think).

I took it pretty easy. Wasn’t trying to spend nine hours here like I had in the Louvre. Honestly, my favorite things about the museum were the museum building itself and the views from its many windows.

There was also a Secret Room, which housed ancient naughty paintings and giant stone penises hanging from about every surface. It was…. interesting to say the least.

As I made my way out of the museum, I found a really lovely little gallery of sorts, and I spent a few minutes listening to a beautiful rendition of Thriller by a girls choir (not pictured.)

Then, much to my surprise, I found a street that I… actually really liked. Like a lot. Like so much that I ended up walking down it for many more minutes than I should have given how close I was to needing to be on my train to Pompeii.

I don’t know what it was about this street. It was just a little less crowded, a little less loud, lined with shops, and I had long figured out how to cross the street without getting run over or yelled at. I criss crossed to the other sidewalk whenever I found a shop that seemed interesting. I peeked down alleys. I bought another granita. (Dude, it helps me cool off!) I was also whistled and winked at by a very attractive Italian police officer, so no complaints there. (Not like a creepy whistle. More like an attention-getting whistle just so he could wink at me. Bahaha.)

By the time I decided I really, really needed to be heading toward my train, I pulled out my map and realized I was kind of on the wrong side of the city…. To the metro, we go! Barely made the metro. Barely made the train. But I did, with spare time to grab a salad to eat on the way. And I eventually made it all the way to Pompeii.

So here’s where I kind of messed up again. I only bargained for two hours between the time my train arrived in Pompeii and the time my next train left. It was less than what was recommended, but I was tired and short on time, and I figured some time was better than no time!

What I did not bargain for was that the ruins were not right outside the train station, as I had thought. I went to the information desk, where a young Italian man informed me that it was a thirty minute walk to the ruins. I did not exactly have time for that, so I had to opt for the three euro shuttle bus. I paid my fare, was handed what was essentially half a receipt with something scribbled on it (Is this really a ticket? I’m thinking), and then I was told to wait near the door.

I went. I waited. I saw no bus or bus stop. And I also noticed that I was the only one waiting for this ‘bus.’

After waiting quite a while, I actually ended up getting a ride with the attractive information desk man. It was a little strange, and probably not normal protocol unless they do this all the time, but it did get me to the ruins in the end, so I guess I can’t complain too much. The information desk man was also basically a young Marcello, so that was certainly nice. We talked about Pompeii and my upcoming trip to Sorrento, and he told me to make sure to swim while I was there.

The conversation is kind of a blur, but at some point, he started slowing down and took the map from my hands to flip it over, then began pointing out where he was dropping me off and where I would exit and how to get back to the train station where he would be waiting for me (last part was in my head). I thanked him and then he said it was nice to meet me as I lithely flew from the passenger seat. He was much less terrifying as I thanked him and closed the door, but I still walked rather quickly toward the entrance gates as I made sure he was pulling away and not getting out to follow me.

Overall experience: strange, but left me distracted from the heat for a while. Advice to future self: next time, make sure there is an actual bus.

Right. So. Pompeii.

Pompeii was actually quite lovely, and in the hour and a half I walked around, never once did I see a lava-covered human. I didn’t realize this until after I left, and I certainly had not been looking for them, but I am glad I never came upon them.

The streets of Pompeii reminded me of my trip to Rome, which is likely to put any girl in a good mood. I was still tired and a bit homesick, but it was nice to enjoy something that made it feel like I was a normal traveler again. (Close encounters with swarthy foreigners help too, I guess.)

Pompeii was quiet and deserted, but it was easy to appreciate the life and commotion that would have taken place here once before. I loved walking around and exploring nooks and crannies. Gardens, boulevards, amphitheatres, temples, it was all gorgeous and calming.

^Part of a large square – reminded me like the Roman Forum

^Vesuvius in the background

^These are ancient toilets in case you can’t tell.

^I found a vineyard!

^Mini Colloseum

The time to leave came quickly, though, and I made my way out the opposite side from which I had entered. Marcello had said I should expect a fifteen minute walk from this exit, and I had planned for just the right amount of time. Walking through the modern-day counterpart of the ruins I had left behind, though, I wished I had bargained for more time! It was such a cute little town, and I wanted to stop at every restaurant and trinket shop. When I came to the city’s cathedral, I stopped to take a picture and a waiter joked around and tried to photobomb me. Ha!

All too soon, I was back in the train station. I took one last look at Marcello and silently thanked him for not telling me his real name so I could continue calling him Marcello, then boarded my train.

Back in Naples, I was seriously hungry and seriously had to pee. I thought I would run back to my apartment, pee, run to Da Michelle’s Pizza, then eat in the air conditioning of my room. On my way there, though, I passed several tourist restaurants lining the station square.

Now, when I say tourist restaurant, I do not mean they serve bad food. They are situated in a touristy area and cater to tourists, but I have never had a bad experience with a so-called tourist restaurant (except maybe one time in France). They display their menus outside, so I could see that the food was cheap, and most everybody eats outside, so I could see that the food looked good. The sun would set in about an hour, but I figured that would give me enough time to get back safe to my apartment.

I had to wait a while to be seated, but I was finally given a table in the back near the restaurant front and away from the street. I was situated in the middle of three two-person tables, with an adorable 90 year old Italian man on my right and a beefy middle-aged man on my left.

The wait staff was made entirely of middle aged men except for one positively adorable young waiter. He and the manager continually came by the check on me, and the rest of the staff would slide a joke or a smile my way every time they passed.

I ordered the gnocchi and some white wine and settled in.

I was mostly watching the little old man on my right, who stared off at other diners and said hardly anything to the wait staff. He had a full bottle of wine in an ice bucket next to him, but I never once saw him drink from his glass. He received a plate of two gigantic shrimp-looking things, which he cut to pieces but I never saw him eat, and then received a large plate of watermelon, which he doused in salt before devouring. I’ll have to see what that tastes like someday.

The man on my left spoke to me every once in awhile, commenting on the slow service or on how I should be eating my gnocchi (with fresh parmesan and olive oil on top) or how I should be drinking my wine (with a glass of sparkling water on the side). I thought about chatting with him, but he didn’t seem overly pleasant, so I figured I would just enjoy the meal.

He thought otherwise. His comments became longer and more detailed, until he finally said, ‘Now that the sun has gone down, now that it is dark, that it is night time, I give you some advice. You see that street over there?’ He pointed to the street lining the opposite side of the square. I nodded. ‘And you see this street here?’ He pointed to the street I needed to walk on to get back to my apartment. I nodded. Hesitantly. ‘Do not walk on these streets. You will be raped.’

…..

…..

…..

Oh. Kay.

Oh. Kay.

Uhm. No. Oh. Kay.

I am… quite terrified at this point. I have lost all interest in our conversation and in the food in front of me. I want very much to not be sitting next to this man and to not be needing to walk on this street that I need to walk on.

He continued to talk about how dangerous this city is, and how horrible this city is, and how horrible this country is. ‘In my country, Croatia, you can go on the streets and no one will rape you.’

I am desperately wishing he would stop talking at this point, and I am desperately wishing I have not been drinking wine, which I am just now started to feel. He tells me he is not trying to scare me or hurt me, but that he is just trying to make sure I am staying safe. But he is seriously freaking and creeping me out, tbh!!!

He finally stopped talking about the dangers of the city (‘I am telling you. Leave this place. First flight in the morning.’) long enough to ask about where I was from and what I did. He was a mechanic in the shipping industry, so he travels around the world on a daily basis, but for some reason he was just Not Feeling It with Italy.

I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to leave without being rude, when Cute Young Waiter appears in the nick of time to take my plate. I ask for the check and he asks if I want coffee or dessert. ‘Café, latte, chocolate,’ “Nonono, thank you.” ‘Cake, pudding, pastry, croissant,’ “Nonono, I’m too full, really.” ‘[insert many other drinks and desserts],’ “Nonono, really I’m too full.”

Then Croatian Man pops in: ‘She will have a Caffè corretto,’ he says. “Nonono,” I say quickly. The Croatian man explains what it is (espresso with a tiny bit of liquor) and how I need to try it, and I refuse again, chuckling nervously and shaking my head. The waiter asks if I am sure about ten times before smiling and leaving.

Leave me alone, Croatian Man! I am thinking. We chat a bit more, and the waiter comes back with the bill. I pick it up in time to see the total just as Croatian Man snatches it from my grasp and says, ‘I will take care of this,’ before placing it out of reach on his table and crossing his arms matter-of-factly. I look to Cute Waiter, he looks at Croatian Man, then we look at each other and simultaneously lift our arms in helpless shrugs. ‘It is no matter to me,’ he says, and smiles and leaves.

Well, GREAT! I’m thinking. How am I supposed to leave, now?!

I indulge Mr. Croatian Man in a few more minutes of conversation and try to decide how to escape. I think he ended up saying one more thing about how unsafe the city was, and I finally said something about how I ‘should probably be going’ and asked if he was sure he didn’t want  me to pay for myself. ‘Nonono, this is nothing. I will take care of this,’ he said.

‘Well… it was nice to meet you..’ I said. We shook hands and exchanged names, but he mumbled his and followed it quickly with, ‘but this is nothing,’ and a wave of his hand.

I thanked him again for picking up my bill, and all but ran to my apartment.

I made it there safely, obviously. It was just terrifying the whole way.

So, yes. A rather eventful and confusing day in Naples and Pompeii. At the end of the day, I did feel… a bit excited for the next day, I guess. Easy to be distracted from exhaustion when you’ve got questionable men to deal with, let alone free dinner.

Don’t worry about me, though! I don’t really know how to assure you, readers, not to worry about me and my travel decisions after reading this post, but please don’t worry about me. I’m smart. Sometimes. Croatian Man said he could see in my eyes that I’m not stupid.

I guess I just have to remind myself of that a little more often.

 

Venlig hilsen/ ciao,

Lizzy-wa