Pompeii

It rained, nearly all through the night, so the view we were hoping for this morning, after driving part way up Mount Vesuvias, was not to be seen. Late morning, abandoning any idea of travelling further up, we set off downwards, Marge, confident, following a coach, who paved the way. Yesterday, we realised, that driving in Italy was a little bit like crossing the road in Italy, you need to get in there, so we did, whilst still remaining vigilant. Marge, being Marge, lured us into the back streets of Naples. So, incident number one, Marge had to reverse, out of the end, of a one way street, then turn right, tightly, minding the low wall, and up a gradient. Of course, the Italians are not very patient drivers, so whilst trying to reverse, they cut around in front of us, and, tried to squeeze behind us, all the time, sounding their horns. The Marge we know, would have loved all this male attention. We have worked out, that about one in fifteen of the drivers are on your side, whether you are trying to cross the road, or, waiting while you sort out your driving! After that, it was another case of 'get me out of here!'. So we followed road signs for the autostrada. Eventually, on the toll road, all was calm. Then, we exited for Pompeii. After leaving the autostrada, the roads, seemed like they'd been bombed, and because of the heavy rain, all the more dangerous. Then, incident number two. 'The bridge approaching, is too low for Marge'! 'Reverse, onto the junction'. More impatient Italian drivers, with blaring horns. So, we allowed the sat nav to re-route us. Incident number three. 'This roads narrow'. But Marge had, had, enough. The drivers coming towards her, either had to stop, or reverse back. By then, we were only about four minutes from our destination, great! Then incident number four. 'Those trees are TOO LOW! '. 'Sorry, Marge, this might be a little uncomfortable'. And then we arrived at the campsite. Greeted, by the cheerful owners, we were relieved to have arrived. We were each, given a welcome drink, of peach juice, and some fruit, a little like small peaches, from a tree in their garden. After being shown the facilities, (great, hot showers, toilet etc.), and being told information about, New and Old Pompeii, we decided to take a breath, and have our lunch, and celebrate surviving Naples. The site is a thirty minute walk from Old Pompeii, so after lunch, we took a walk out. The area, near the campsite, is very run down, and we were a little bit apprehensive about it, but twenty minutes later, we arrived at a beautiful, large church.

The painted ceiling was stunning, and impressed everyone who stepped inside to see it.

On, one of the walls, there was a painting of Ava Maria, adorned with gold jewellery, which caused a lump in the throat, and a tear in the eye, as this was Marge's favourite song as a young child.

The organ, which sat above the main door, was the best we'd ever seen, and we've seen some organs, having frequented so many churches on our travels in Europe, secretly praying that ourselves and Marge remain safe. Today, was the day, that we both thought Marge might come to grief. As usual, we were pestered by tour guides, one telling us the mini bus tour up to Mount Vesuvias was 15 euros each, when we knew from our hosts, that if you boarded it a the station it was 10 euros! On top of this, was a 10 euro, standard charge, to walk, to the crater. We are now firmly in Mafia country, and were put off one of the overnight stops, because the price was basically decided on the spot, after giving you the once over.

On our way to the large supermarket, on the edge of town, we were lucky to be rewarded with a free, sneak preview of Old Pompeii.

After, buying some provisions for tomorrow's packed lunch, we walked back to Marge. The evening was fairly warm, and after taking advantage of the on-site showers, we settled down, with a pre-dinner drink, appreciating, we had the best seat in the house, with a clear view of Mount Vesuvias.

We are looking forward to spending a couple of nights here, away from the rat race, that awaits us on Italy's roads. The Internet connection, is very poor here, so our blog may take a little while to come through, whilst we are here.