Finale

Today we spent a half a day in lovely Rome; and then we hailed a cab to take us to a hotel that was very near Marco Polo Airport.  It has shuttle service to the airport.

That was a good call on Jack's behalf.  Otherwise we'd be up at about 4AM trying to hail a cab from our little apartment.  Not a good idea.  Our plane leaves very early and we had to go through customs, check in - British Airways is a lovely carrier, but their website is dreadful for checking in - and get a refund on the taxes we'd paid on several items.  So, our slate was full at a very early hour.

But we made it, with time to spare.

When a major project is completed at work, there's always a "lessons learned" meeting.  Here is what I've learned from our 6-week sojourn:

• Always, always fly first class across the Big Pond.  I won't fly if I can't.  And you shouldn't.

• It's worth the price of a first class ticket to stay in the British Airways lounge in Heathrow.  I promise.

• Travel with ONE BAG -- a roller.  No more.  I packed a bunch of little short-tailed dresses that I never wore.  Typical of a Las Vegas mentality, I guess.  Shoulda packed more pants; and more underwear.

• We purchased $50 worth of  Las Vegas "trinkets" - key chains with logos, fake casino chips.  We should have doubled down.  Everyone we gave a trinket to was absolutely thrilled.  Another great idea from Jack.  Another good reason why I married him.

• If I had it to do over, I’d have bought this toaster.

January 28, 2014

Today is the last full day to enjoy Italy before returning to Las Vegas.

Yesterday (Sunday) we were in the main shopping district of Rome along with a jillion other people.  The sidewalks are narrow, as are the roads, so navigation is difficult.  That, and about every Italian smokes like a chimney.  Phew!  We decided to give it another try today.

We rounded a corner, and there it was.  The store of perfect dresses.  I know this place.  Herve Leger.

Oooh!  I said.  I want to look in there.  We moved closer.  Then I saw two things that made me want to keep my distance:

• There was very limited inventory; and
• There were no cash registers in the store.

Both were signs of extravagant expense.  I knew moving inside was risky.

Jack spotted a Little Black Dress:  Gosh, that would look nice on you!  Why don’t we go inside and you can try it on!  Whoosh!  We were sucked inside.

Immediately we were swooped upon by an itty-bitty tiny dynamo of a woman (Danger, DANGER, Will Robinson!) who looked me up and down all the while talking up a storm:    Madame, this dress is perfect for your body!  Madame, what size-a shoe do you wear?  Please come with me!  You must try this dress!

What else was there to do but comply?  So - not only did they magically find the right dress size for me from (who knows where), they also supplied me with a pair of stiletto heels to wear with the dress.  Italians.  *sigh*  They sure know how to move a product.

An Herve Leger bandage dress.  You may want to Google it.  Basically, the dress is all you wear because it is skin tight and fits like magic.  Black magic.  I saw it was perfect from the look on Jack’s face when I walked out of the dressing room.

All Herve Legers have women’s names.  Mine is called Lulu.

From our clerk:  Madame, you must-a have this dress - she fits you-a so perfect!  Signore, don’t you-a think so?

Jack!  I whispered.  This dress is very expensive!   He nodded and gave the exuberant sales clerk his credit card. 

This is another reason why I married Jack:  

It looks fabulous on you, he said.  And you’ll always remember this moment when you wear this beautiful dress.

I’ve got - how you say? - the chill bumps on-a my arms!  

Later we were walking down the sidewalk with my new Herve in its beautiful lilac shopping bag.  Knowledgeable women turned to stare at the bag.

And we walked upon the most amazing restaurant:  The Museo Itelier Canova Tadolini.

It’s half-restaurant and half-museum.  Diners sit at tables placed among all sorts of marble sculptures.  Who knew there was such a place?

Tough not to say grace before dining in here.

Jack’s admirers seem to approve of his dining selection.

They don’t seem to care for mine, however.

Hey, you gonna eat that?

A lovely place for the last lovely day.

January 27, 2014

Yesterday was beautiful and sunny in Rome.  Today it is not.  Today also feels more like Sunday than yesterday.  It's cold, and the rain is pouring down in sheets.

No matter.  We're not here to inspect the interior of the flat we're renting.  Off we go to another little coffee bar close to the bridge over the river Tiber.

Crossing the Tiber

Our plan today is to walk 'round the outskirts of the Vatican.  Neither of us can tolerate the huge, HUGE line to go inside to see...what?  My Aunt Ida would say "Crap that needs dustin'!  That's all!"  And that pretty much sums it up for me, too.

We're in St. Peter's Square and some sort of a hoop-te-do is in the works.  A lot of chairs have been set out, even in this miserable rain.  And a lot of security folks have been set out, too.  Evidently to look miserable, and they're doing a fine job.

Ho!  A post  office is  here, too, so we can mail our post cards that I've been  dragging around  for a few days.  We walk into the official Vatican Post Office Trailer.  Since they're already stamped, we're just looking for a mail drop.  Well, look somewhere else, pal!  You need to drop them off in Italy.  This is the Vatican.  I stifled a smirk, but did allow a "shit!" out of my mouth that was audible.  Really?  No - REALLY - you're serious?

Off we go, and I haven't been taken into custody (yet).

An ancestor of Jack Benny

Italy, the home of the world’s smallest cars

A bit of grocery shopping, ducking in from the freezing cold rain into the little apartment, and then down to the local restaurant/hangout we've been going to. Jack orders pizza and I get onion soup.

Now home.  We're starting to think about packing for the journey to the Land of Quiet Good Taste and Simple Elegance (aka Las Vegas).   We'll be leaving on OH-MY-GOD-ITS-EARLY Thursday.  Heavy sigh.

January 26, 2014

Today we set off to see a museum that's we'd noticed nearby.  It's the Leonardo Da Vinci il Genio e le invenzioni.  Any exhibit featuring Leonardo is  OK in my book.  But first we needed breakfast.  We found it at the restaurant facing the really cool facade across the street - the one I wrote about yesterday in this blog.

The little cafe was a locals hangout.

They serve something called an American breakfast which is interesting:

• Eggs fried on top of bacon - not bad!
• A side of proscutto, (an Italian spiced ham)
• Pinto beans, American, yes, but not usually for breakfast
• Fresh sauteed mushroooms; and
• The biggest slices of toast you've ever seen.  Man, these slices were the size of notebook paper.

The little restaurant was not far from the museum.  It was located in what used to be someone's house.  Someone very, very wealthy.  You walk in through a street door and you're inside an atrium.  The building surrounds the atrium so all room windows have an atrium view.  This place is four stories tall.

Another Leonardo Museum!

We cross the atrium and enter the museum.  There are working-scale replicas of many of Leonardo's inventions.  My favorite was the  moveable tank, which for all the world looked like the world's largest teapot.  It took eight guys to propel it but it was only good over level ground.  I'm guessing the enemy fell over laughing.

Sorry to report I didn’t get a photo of the moveable tank.

Looking at big-time engineering soon tired us out and we repaired to the little apartment and took a restorative nap.  

For dinner, Jack wanted to visit Caffe Greco, Rome's oldest bar.  They opened in 1760.  Google said that movers and shakers still frequented this place, along with poets and writers.  Off we went.

We passed this guy along the way.  An interesting way to make money, don’t you think?

A cool watch repair shop we happened onto.

Google also told us that Caffe Greco was in one spot when it most certainly wasn't.  But we did find it, and boy, was it in a hep section of town.  The stores here didn't have price tags on the clothes in their windows.  If you have to ask...

The waiters at Caffee Greco all wear bow ties and tails.  Except one, the one that waited on us.  He was in a lowly tuxedo.  We asked him about this.  He was on probation, only just been hired 3 months ago and as such was expected to provide his own livery until he had proved  to be satisfactory.  Hmm.

We ordered a bottle of restorative prosecco and consulted the menu for food.  No matter!  When the bottle of prosecco arrived, so did food.  Lots of it!  First a huge vase of fruit over ice; then roasted almonds, pistachios, and olives.  Then charcuterie, a tray of cold  cuts and cheeses and of course Italian bread.  When we ate all on one plate, another magically appeared.

At Caffe Greco seeing and being seen.

Yes, I did see percieved movers and shakers easing in and out of the restaurant. One has to have an immense stash of money, or a devoted following, or both, to have the looks on the faces of the patrons I saw.  Must work on perfecting that look...

It's worth a trip inside Caffe Greco just to see all the neat old stuff on the wall.  One was a photo featuring Buffalo Bill and two Indians sitting down for tea. There was stuff everywhere to look at but it would involve peering over other patrons' shoulders.  

Off we went to the little apartment.

January 25, 2014

We set off for Pantheon today.  That's the church that is circular.   At the top of its domed roof there is a hole about 15-20 feet in diameter.  Jack wanted to see it because if was featured in The Di Vinci Code.

Wonder what keeps rain & snow out?

An easy walk and it was spectacular.  A cool thing about the Pantheon is this:  The last king and queen of Italy are buried in there.   A guard bearing the Italian flag marks their presence.  Kind of like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  The guard and other associated patriots wear dark blue capes emblazoned with the Italian king's insignia.

Guarding the tomb

Jack tells me there is a small faction that maintains this and still supports a monarchy.  It really pisses off the current government.  <smirk>

Outside the Pantheon there's a huge square featuring a very cool fountain.  A musician was playing blues.  The sun was shining.  On to Trevi Fountains.  I was told that I shouldn't miss them.  Another easy walk.

The Fountains at Bellagio, Las Vegas are prettier.

Plus, they dance to music.

 I just didn't see the attraction in Trevi although about 3,000 other people crowded into that small fountain area may disagree.  It may be because of the lore:  you throw a coin in Trevi and it's guaranteed you'll return to Italy.  Spotty logic, but we complied.

Here are the purchases we made today:

• Handmade silk pocket squares and silk scarves from a local vendor;
• A really cool cashmere driving cap for Jack;
• A cashmere toboggan for my bald-headed supervisor, Allen.  So he won't get brain freeze.
• A beautiful wood corkscrew in its own beautiful wood box.  Just because it was so pretty.

That's the thing.  Everywhere you  go in Italy, it's so pretty it hurts your eyes.  We ate breakfast in a  place this morning that was across the street from a building - now, it's an ordinary building, perhaps apartments above and ordinary stores below - that had the most amazing door fresco working for it.  The fresco was two guys on either side that morphed into a lion.  It would be cool just to live there.  Just for the front door.

Fresco guys

Cool, huh?

January 24, 2014

We slept in this morning.  Didn't open the front door until about a quarter till eleven.  We remembered the restaurant we dined in last night (Fattoincasa)  promised to be open at eleven.  So we set off in that direction, only to discover that they were still closed.  Ah, Italians!  So not a slave to the clock like their American counterparts.  We doubled back to a little cafe we'd seen.

It was open, they had free internet, but terrible pastries and coffee.  It was good I chose to have a restorative prosecco instead.

Here are some random observations about Italian restaurants:

• Salt and pepper  shakers are never on the table.
• Although there are many advertisements for Coca-Cola (right out of the 50's) and Cokes are sold everywhere, you'll never see one Pepsi.  Ever. I've made a point to look.
• Never, ever, eat at a restaurant whose menu features photos of the food.  You'll lose every time.

Our little flat is just across the river from the Vatican.  When we were  walking back from breakfast, I observed a helicopter circling overhead.  It was a big, sleek chopper with retractible gear.  It was painted in Italian colors although there were no registration numbers or any sort of insignia visible.  It kept circling and circling.  Well, that's odd.  Those things burn a ton of pricey fuel, so what is that guy doing up there?

We walked across the bridge to Castel S. Angelo, and then over towards the Vatican.

On the bridge

Jack wanted to purchase tickets for the Red Bus tour.  Instead we bought tickets for the Yellow Bus tour.  Same thing, you go on the route and jump-on, jump-off as you please.  He quizzed the ticket agent about the chopper and security agents which seemed to be just about everywhere.

"Oh," he said, "that was because the President of France was here to see the pope; and someone had phoned in a bomb threat."  He shrugged.  "It was the same thing when President Obama was here.”

A wedding was taking place when we happened by.

We boarded the yellow double-decker and took seats on the very front of the top.  This gave us an eagle's eye view of the chaos that is considered normal traffic in Rome.  The plan was to ride the entire route and then come back the next day for stopping off at places we wanted to see.

My butt slowly but surely turned into solid frozen stone sitting on the unfriendly molded-plastic seat.

More observations:

• Don't stop at the Colosseo unless you're ready to deal with about a jillion other tourists.  Even in the dead of winter.  Hard to imagine what it would be like in the summer.
• The Colosseo has scaffolding on about a third of its exterior wall.  They're trying to shore it up because air pollution is eroding the structural foundation.  Good luck with that, pal.
• You can't swing a dead cat in Rome without hitting a huge church featuring marble people hanging around its front and sides.  But in Rome, the marble people are mostly clothed with marble robes and what-not.  More Catholic guilt, I suppose.

We bailed out of the yellow bus at the same spot we boarded and asked the ticket agent about a place to eat.  His recommendations were spotty.  Meh. Heading back toward our flat, we found a nice Fornao. We were seated next to a foursome from Austrailia.  A lively conversation ensued.  Nice folks.  Then on to the little flat for a restorative nap.

Later, we foraged back to Fattoincasa, the neat little college hang-out that plays music from the late 70's-early 80's.   They were open by then.

Then back to the flat.  The clothes are still wet on the drying rack.

Our little flat.

  

January 23, 2014

We left Positano early this morning and said goodbye to our larger-than-life and charming host, Luciano.  She had yarded our three heavy bags via the little handmade trolley to the top of the road and met us, smiling, when we finally huffed up the half-mile of stairs.

Luciano had a present for us - a small bottle of homemade Limoncello with a little lemon tied alongside with a yellow ribbon.

We spoke for a few moments before we left.   Luciano said she envied me, because women in this part of Italy had very few opportunities.  She was glad to have met me.  Her sincerity and total humility took me off guard.  Inwardly I cringed.

. . . 

A house by the turn-off to our apartment.  Jack & I both think it looks like the painting “The Scream."

Cliff formation on the road to our apartment.

Now we are in Rome after another exciting road trip and an unremarkable train ride.  We're ensconced in our new flat for 5 days.

With lots of smelly laundry.

Now - why is it that a country that delivered unto the world the likes of Leonardo da Vinci and Michaelangelo CAN'T make a washing machine that is worth a CRAP?  Seriously.

Allesandro, the owner, assured us that we only need to put the washer setting on "3" and walk away.  Just like American washers! Presto, in 40 minutes, sparkling clean, wet clothes.

Well, it's just not so. You can't just put the washer on "3" and anticipate anything but unlimited clothes tumbling.  I guess you could walk away - and return to threads that used to be your jeans and underwear.  You may want to review my previous post on washing clothes in Venice.

This Roman washer is an evil predecessor of its cousin in Venice.  It has no Italian words on it to translate as to what the dial setting might mean (like "spin" or "rinse") but instead relies on ancient Egyptian cuneform symbols to convey its intended cycle.   Perhaps I should pray to Isis for washer wisdom.

January 22, 2014

This is our last day in Positano and it's still raining.

Today's plan is to visit the University of  Pizza, Metro Pizza, in Vico Equense.  It's presumably the birthplace of pizza and a record holder in the Guiness Book for the world's largest pizza.  It's not far; and a very exciting ride if you are an American unaccustomed to Italian drivers.

Jack has done very well piloting the little diesel Toyota Rav-4 through these snaky narrow streets.  But here's the thing:  he seldom gets very far out of the driveway at home before he's swearing at other drivers; here he is positively a saint.  Not one curse has been hurled while driving in Italy.  I quizzed him about this.  "Well," he said sanctimoniously, "we are all ambassadors for our country."  I snorted.

The little Rav-4 has a GPS and we've been putting it to good use.  Today we're routed through the tiniest of streets in Italian nowheres-villes and we're driving very slowly.  The GPS lady instructs us to "turn left in 10 meters."  We do, and are immediately stuck like a cork in a bottle.  Eeep.  I'm guessing we had less than two inches to spare on either side of this little road, flanked by rental car-eating stone walls.  We creep forward at about an inch an hour and the road narrows further.  We pull in the side-view mirrors.  No, it just ain't happening.  The irregular stone walls won't let us pass.  It's time to back up.

 Well, that was fun, wasn't it?  I so wanted to get a picture of the little truck jammed between stone walls.  What would that entail?  Climbing out the back of the truck, then over the roof and down off the front of the hood.  It would have been worth it.

It was even narrower than it looked.

On we blunder to Vico Equense, paying more heed to which street we're directed to turn onto.  Have I mentioned that parking is at a premium in Italy?  We circled the little city center three times before we noticed a parking garage.  The garage was small enough that Jack had to inch-up-back-back about 4 times before the little truck  is wedged in between a stone pillar and another car.  Cripes!  I could never drive here.

Metro Pizza is huge, more like an S&W Cafeteria than a pizza joint.  And we're its only patrons at 12:30.  Metro Pizza sells pizza by the meter.  But there's a little side note down at the bottom of the menu that says pizza by the plate can be ordered as well.  Jack excuses himself to wash his hands and the watchful waiter chooses just this time to take our order.  He asks me several times what we want, exactly.  I tell him, exactly, several times.

Metro Pizza

Later, a gurney-sized trolley comes our way with more pizza than we could eat in a week even if we worked really hard at it.   I smile and order a restorative prosecco.

The sun finally comes out on our way home and we're able to take some very good snaps of the sea from our little villa.  Just in time!

Later I'm packing for tomorrow's journey.  And - zzzzt!  Another power hit!  We move to the little sitting room and wait.  It's not long in coming:  flashlights explode out of the main house with heavy foot-stomps accompanied by wrathful Italian curses shouted in every direction.  A cat yowled when someone stepped on it.  The dog barked.  More curses and general shouting.  Man, I'm thinking we should have to pay extra for this.

A religious picture in our room.  Who knew Obi-Wan Kenobi was also a priest?

January 21, 2014

This morning, in construction jargon, "it's raining like pouring piss out of a boot."  It has rained and been overcast almost the entire time we've been it Italy.  It hasn't mattered so much when we were in big cities.  But here on the coast, how nice it would be to have clear blue skies over a beautiful blue sea.  I keep waiting for clear skies for a good snap of the view from our bedroom window.  Still no joy.

Irrespective of the sky, though, the sea is a beautiful clear blue.  Massive waves smack up against the unyielding rocks with huge sea-noises.  Not sure which I admire most:  the sea for trying, or the rocks for being so badass.  I guess it's a draw, like it has probably been between these two forever.

Luciana comes with the Big Tray amid this downpour and a mini-gale force wind.  I'm amazed.  "Luciana, please come in before you blow away!"

"Ehh, it's winter," she shrugs.

We debated about just staying in for today, reading and catching up on sleep, but common sense and cabin fever took over.  We decided to drive east to Amalfi, which will give us a view of the spectacular Amalfi Coast.  Maybe we could find lunch there?  Maybe it's not all shut down like Positano for the winter?  We will see.

I took a photo of the car's GPS showing the route along the coast from Positano to Amalfi.  Just so you can see this is clearly not a ride for those with twirly stomachs.

Here are a few observations of common Italian driving habits that also cause twirly stomachs:

• The center lane marker is merely for looks.  Drive wherever you feel comfortable, especially  if you're chatting on your cell phone.
• There's no need to look before you pull out into traffic.  Or to turn in front of it.
• You can stop in the middle of the road no matter where you are.  Optional:  use flashers.

Italian cars and scooters have a hard, hard life.  I am glad they are not horses.  Parking is always on the sides of the streets; and the streets are so narrow you must fold in your side view mirrors or they will get torn off.  Cars here are equipped so that when they're started, the side view mirrors fold back out.  Huh!

Yes, this is the main thoroughfare.

The width of the Amalfi coast road is about the same as our driveway.  The difference is, if you slip off one side of the Amalfi road, you'll plunge about a thousand feet into the sea after crashing onto a bunch of scary rocks.  On our driveway, you'll just get in the grass and risk incurring the Wrath of Jack.

The stomach-twirly road almost but not quite leads us to Amalfi.  Crap!  Closed for repairs.  We double back and stop at a spot for some amazing photos.  What I didn't notice was the wind was at gale force.  When I opened the door a powerful vacuum sucked every map we owned into the sea.  Curses!

The view along the Amalfi coast

Where we parked (remember, I said parking was a premium here) belonged to an Italian pottery store, so in we went.  It reminded me of all the interminable tourist joints leading up and into, Gatlinburg Tennessee, except there were no chenille bed spreads and house coats.  And not a single Elvis.

We bought some pretty trinkets and some Italian seasonings for pasta sauce, dried mushrooms (fungi), flavored olive oil, and local wines.

Still no luck with a place for lunch.  The pottery shop lady recommended a pizza joint in the nearby town, but it was closed.  It looked snaky, anyway.  We returned to the house.

The Italian seasonings, dried mushrooms, and flavored olive oil worked well with some pasta and sauces we'd bought the day before.  A late lunch, but a yummy one.

Still raining -  see construction reference at start of entry.

January 20, 2014

Today started off pretty much like all mornings.  Jack was in the shower and I was drowsing in the bed, wondering if there would be any hot water left.  Zzzzt!  The lights and heater shut down.  Then:  FLASH!  BOOM!  The source of the power hit was easily identifible to this keen engineer. An electrical storm!

There were other noises, too, Italian swear words and the crashing of pans from across the way.  Luciana was awake, too.

Jack got to evaluate his shaving skills in the dark.  I quickly showered fearing the dreaded surge of ice water just when my head was full of shampoo.  We both survived.

At 9:30 Luciana swept into the room, again with the huge tray of food.  We learned the source of her discontent as evidenced by the Italian swear words and pan-crashing.  "We never have this problem when my father was-a running the house.  Never!  My brother takes over, you see-a what happens!  No electric!  How can I make-a the espresso for my guests!"   She shakes her head and puts down the tray, which frees her hands to speak as all Italians do - with animated gesturing and waving.

I thought of explaining to her that it was a power hit due to the electrical storm, not her brother, but then thought better of it.  I remembered the pan-crashing and Italian swear words.

When I was in the 6th grade I remember reading about Pompeii.  In 79AD Mount Vesuvius erupted without warning and entombed the entire thriving city.  I remembered photos of people that had been excavated from their volcanic tomb.  "Man," I thought, "I'll go there one day and see for myself."  Today was that day.

Pompei in 2014 is once again a thriving city.  We drove into the city center.  Jack remarked, "Man, this looks way more modern than I'd expected."  After being lost a couple more times, we found the excavation but not parking.  It would appear that parking is a priceless commodity anywhere in Italy.
We pulled over across the street from the excavation in what looked like a good place to park.  No signs saying we couldn't...that we could read.  I was suspicious and went into a restaurant.  "No, signora, you can't-a park there.  The city, they make good living a-towing tourist cars!"  I was directed a few blocks down the street.

A very jovial rotund man waved us in to a restaurant parking lot.  "Now, you've come-a to see the ruins?  You can-a park here for free if you'll have-a dinner or a snack at my restaurant!  And iffa the food, she is no good, you pay nothing!  And here, here is a beautiful book about Pompei ruins, you see it sells for-a 12 euros?  I sell it to you for 10 euros!"

A hustler!  And a damn good one.  We bought the book and the meal.  During our meal, the weather finally broke from the incessant rain.  We were off to see ancient Pompeii.

It's bigger than I thought it would be.  It would take about five days to see all the ruins.  We walked down the Main Street.

Main Street, Pompeii

There were two colluseums, side-by-side.

In the Colosseum

There was a modern-day equivalent of a fitness center, with mens and ladies changing rooms, a weight room, a running track, and two swimming pools.

The running track was in the center and other buildings ringed it. 

We saw a laundromat.  Several restaurants dotted the street. You could tell they were restaurants because they had counters with numerous sink-like depressions in them.  This was where the food was stored. Stacked, I guess, on plates.   Some of the restaurants had back rooms where the patrons could lie down and eat in true Roman style.

A Pompeiian eatery

I’m guessing these stair step-like things held the various kinds of wines

Pompei was thriving in 79AD.

Advertised services in the brothel.

One of the brothel rooms.  Man, that looks uncomfortable.

The main industry was the sea and shipping.  There were numerous wealthy people living there.

Table in the home of one of Caesar’s assassins.

Pompeiian water fountain.

I guess when Vesuvius started rumbling that day in August, it was no big deal to the inhabitants.  History shows the mountain had trembled many, many times before.  I can imagine the shock and disbelief of the inhabitants when thousands upon thousands of metric tons of scorching hot ash and poisonous gases blanketed the city.  I imagine they thought it couldn't possibly happen in such a nice place as Pompei.  That was probably their very last thought.

2014AD Pompeii is trying to make 79AD Pompeii more tourist-friendly.  (What?  It's already wall-to-wall people in the summer!)  Here's their ad campaign's catchy slogan:  PompeiiViva!  Ancient Pompeii is a model of a vibrant, growing community!  

Do you see the irony in this?  I'll bet my last euro that wasn't the thought going through the residents' minds when they were choking to death on way-more-than-boiling-hot poisonious gases.  Or in the minds of those that managed to flee, only to return the next day  to be entombed in molten lava.  One story I remember reading in the 6th grade was that some of the residents that were excavated had their house keys in their pockets.  They thought they'd be going home.

It was starting to rain again, and not just a sprinkle.  It occurred to me that Vesuvius could erupt at any time without warning, even today.  Time to go.