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London!

Zoals ik al eerder zei, waren Wolf en Bart dit weekend in Londen. Ik ben hen daarstraks, zo rond half tien, gaan ophalen aan het station, en Wolf zag er misschien wel wat moe uit, maar zijn ogen blonken.

Tate Modern, Greenwich met de boot en daar dan op de nulmeridiaan staan, the London Eye, de Tower Bridge, ze hebben echt veel gedaan, en heel veel rondgewandeld. Een uitgebreid verslag heb ik niet gekregen – dat is niet cool als je twaalf bent, en vooral, dat was iets tussen jongens – maar wel af en toe een foto via mail of Facebook. En ik, ik was content.

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Weekendje Londen voor Wolf

Een vriendin vertelde me dat zij de kinderen, bij hun communie of lentefeest, als cadeau een weekendje gaf, te spenderen in een niet al te verre stad naar keuze, met de ouder naar keuze.

Ik vond dat een prima idee, en dus mocht ook Wolf zo’n weekend kiezen. Hij koos voor Londen met zijn papa: “Ha ja, mama, met jou doen we al zo veel dingen, ik vind het super om ook met papa eens iets te doen!”

Even dachten we nog om het te annuleren wegens de dood van mijn ma, maar de begrafenis is toch pas volgende week, dus op zich kon het wel, en Wolf zei dat het ook wel ging helpen om zijn gedachten te verzetten.

En dus zag ik vandaag al de eerste foto’s en meldingen verschijnen vanuit Londen: een knap hotel, een stevige pizza en een avondwandelingetje. Ze worden zo snel groot, meneer…

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The waiting game

Having a sprained ankle and having to wait for hours, it is not fun, I can tell you that.

I was awake this morning before seven, as nearly everybody was leaving at that hour, and I wanted to say our goodbyes. I had decided not to go that early by bus, but to wait another hour and a half comfortably in the villa, and then take a taxi to the airport. Alison volunteered to stay with me and help me out, but since her flight was quite a bit earlier than mine, we arrived at the airport at 9 nonetheless.

She dropped me and my suitcases off at the ‘special services area’ in the airport, said goodbye, and vanished to catch her flight. So there I was, sitting on an uncomfortable bench, for more than three hours. My flight was at 13.45h, and the Italian people behind the counter just eyed me suspiciously from time to time, but said nothing. Luckily I had brought my Robert Harris to read, and that is exactly what I did, for three hours straight. Just once in a while an elderly couple, or a father with a helping son would join me for 15 minutes or so, and then we’d chat a little. There was this very charming old couple travelling to Cannes, he a total gentleman in suit with tie and everything, who apparently was born near Pompei, and had never even visited the excavations. They had been living in France for quite a number of years now, and it was nice to be able to talk in French for a change. They were both so sweet…

Anyway, around half past one the lady behind the counter finally summoned up an assistant with a wheelchair, and within less than five minutes my luggage was checked in and I had a boarding pass. On we went, through customs and security, and even the little bottles of water in my handluggage didn’t cause a problem. I was manually frisked, only the cast got some special attention, as it’s an exquisite place to hide stuff, I suppose. Yet further we went, straight through the entire airport, to a little waiting room right next to the gate, in less than 10 minutes from the first waiting room to this one.

By then I got very hungry, but the guy accompanying me just wheeled me, on simple request, to the baker shop in the transit area, ordered whatever I pointed at, and payed for me, so I even didn’t need to get up. I must say, I was quite impressed.

More Robert Harris it was, till half past one, when they wheeled me down, and into this special kind of truck for disabled. And then, to my surprise, at the airplane, the entire truck went up, to the level of the side door. Such fun!

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In the airplane I was crammed into a regular seat, even though the business seats were empty and spacious. When I asked if there was a possibility that I could sit there, in order to lift my by then really painful and swollen ankle a little, the stewardess answered that it was business customers only, and that everybody had one complaint or the other. So much for compassion, I guess.

I made it through the flight quite unharmed, though feeling a bit queasy once more, and was happy to get off the plane. A very friendly (and pretty) girl was waiting for me, took me all the way through the corridors in both a wheelchair and this little electric car, waited for me by the luggage and hoisted my case off the belt, and wheeled me to the exit, onto the street, where Bart was waiting for me. Upon seeing that it would be hard for Bart to both help me ànd take care of the cases, she decided to stick with me and took me all the way to the car. What a service! Kudos to Brussels Airport, I say!

We got home by seven, and I was sweaty, sticky and exhausted. And still feeling a bit sick to the stomach. I lied down for a bit, took a shower, had a decent meal, and did feel better. By then it was passed eight, so no use to go to the Emergency at the hospital, as they would only take x-rays, and then make me come back the next day anyway. I decided on having a good night’s rest first, and in the morning go to the hospital.

 

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O Fortuna, velut luna, semper variabilis…

The day really had a glorious beginning: my faithful Francesco the bus driver was back! Despite the half hour traffic jam, I arrived at Pompei without being sick, although a bit queasy once more. We started our trip by sitting down on a terrace and having a coffee (which I declined, my stomach was too upset) and then by queueing the entrance line. While Leon actually did that for us, we took a look at the… how can I respectfully describe this? These people were found in the ash layers, and the empty spaces in the ashes, left behind by their corpses, were filled with plaster, so we can actually make out their shapes around their skeletons. We were really stunned by this, and actually even aggravated by the children – too young to fully comprehend that these were once actual people – who were wooping and cheering at the sight.

And then we entered the site, and made our way passing by some graves, and finally entering the city.

So we wandered around, Daan holding the map, like you would wander around a modern city, deciding which places we definitely wanted to see. In the Fuller’s house we went, through the temple of Isis, climbing the steps of the theatre, and having our picknick in a shadowy grove.

After a short break we continued through the streets, marvelling at every corner, in every doorstep, at every view. I must admit, it was nothing like I expected. I was told about low structures that you could see through, only fundaments remaining, and here I was, in a complete city, the Roman spirit wafting through every doorway… I admired the baths with the hypocaustum and the bowling alley, took a long look at the mosaic of the boar…

And then, Fortuna struck…

As I was stepping down into the street, I turned around for a last look at that mosaic, not really minding my step, and… I heard a loud snap, a blinding pain, and I fell down, grasping my right ankle. I knew right away: this was a serious sprain, not just a mere twist, but nothing was broken. A guard summoned the medics, as I lay down on the pavement. And, much to my surprise, every passing guide asked how I was, if someone was alerted, if I needed anything. After a few minutes, I asked the rest of the group to continue, since this was going to take a while, and Leon stayed by my side.

The infirmiere arrived, took a quick assessment, and while I was filling out some papers, the guy took out a lot of bandages, and set to work, right there and then on the Pompei pavement. He sprayed the ankle, swaddled it in a thick layer of fluff cotton, and measured out a length of premade plaster. And yes, he made me a half cast right there on the spot. It took like a quarter of an hour to dry completely, and I was set. Alas, I couldn’t walk. So the lady fetched me a pair of crutches, and they escorted me to the exit, as neither they nor the crutches could leave the premises. And there, on the outside pavement, they left me standing, after a very good, swift and free treatment.
Luckily there still was Leon to take care of me, so he helped me cross the street and onto a terrace chair, and we ordered a coffee. I do admit, at that very moment I started crying. The pain, the exhaustion of having to walk that way and all those steps with crutches, and the mere misery of it all. No more Pompei for me, and probably a couple of weeks immobility. And I definitely need to go to work, this close to the exams. And I need to get home too, through the airport and all. Oh well…

Leon called Mina at the Villa, and she would go out and fetch me a pair of crutches; he also went to the ATM for me and got me some extra money, and the bus would come and pick me up on the spot.

So I sat there, being pretty miserable, on the terrace outside Pompei Scavi. There was this guy prancing about, dressed up like a praetorian, making money out of tourists who wanted a picture with him. He came up to me at one point, asking me what had happened. I explained, and he said that he was a gladiator. So I laughed, and said he was not, he was an officer in the army. He looked very alarmed, mockingly, and said that I should hush up! Of course he was a praetorian, but the people don’t know that, and they preferred a gladiator. Anyway, this guy really made me laugh, and I needed that. He even made me take a selfie ^^

Later on, he came back and attached a trinket to my big toe, “a good luck charm” he said. And then he was gone before I even could thank him. So sweet…

Anyway, we got home, I went to lie down, and gradually I did feel better. Everyone was so nice and so concerned…

 

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Villa Vergiliana: a day at Paestum

Day four of our visit at the Villa Vergiliana was a very relaxed one, to be honest. Alas for me, there was a different bus and an altogether different driver for the two hour trip to Paestum, all along the busy ringroad around Naples and quite a bit further into the direction of Sorrento. I was feeling rather queazy when I got of the bus, but the ever so beautiful landscape strewn with Greek temples and remains, made me quite well in no time. As usual, Leon provided us with very interesting information concerning the buildings and the surroundings, and we all enjoyed the peace thoroughly.

After the picknick we moved to the museum, where he gave us a short guided tour, and left us to explore on our own for a couple of hours.

I ventured into the precinct again, on my own, enjoying an icecream, and gave some Italian students a nice story to recount to their friends :-p Apparently they had an assignment, being seniors in high school, to explain in English to the tourists what their assigned building/monument was all about. So I let one of them explain to me all about the little amphitheatre, helped by his friends whenever he was stuck in English, up to the moment when he declared that it had been restored by the Flavians in the 2nd century before Christ. At which point I raised an eyebrow, and asked him if he was sure about that date. He was, he confirmed. So I went on to explain that it was definitely àfter Christ, and that I was a Latin teacher. He turned bright red, and said something about BC sounding the same as PC in Italian. So I switched: “Linguam Latinam loqui possimus, si velis”. They all started laughing, and said ever so quickly that it was okay, and that they would be fine the way it was! I’m pretty sure that, when I left, they were talking about the mere odds of having a Latin teacher as a tourist…

Anyway, I really didn’t feel like leaving the place, even though it wasn’t quite as peaceful anymore as in the morning, due to the massive amount of Italian teenagers who had arrived, and who were very good at what teenagers are best at, being laughing and making noise… So I went back on the bus, into the Neapolitan traffic, and alas, I wasn’t so lucky this time. By the time we hit Pompei to pick up two of ours who had visited the town instead, I was, as Adrian described it, violently ill. Another hour stuck in traffic really wore me out, and I went to lie down as soon as we hit the Villa. Half an hour of sound sleep worked wonders for me, and so I could easily participate in the wonderful activity that was planned before dinner. We all went up to the roof, and we in turn read out the poem we had been making about our trip. I must admit, I was seriously impressed by everything I heard. Especially Adrian’s poem about a slave being left behind on the shores of Pompei struck a nerve, and when Daan started to sing a song about a dad who is waiting in the vaults beneath Herculaneum for death to come, and says goodbye to his little daughter, both Dana and I were in tears.

I tried to write a sonnet, but I had to finish the last verse in a couple of minutes, after I had been woken up by the gong to indicate that it was time to go up on the roof.

In Virgil’s land the green hills lay,
and some are even mountains.
Beneath a veil of clouds of May
the sea, the lakes and fountains.

A Virgilian group of people came
to explore the Latin treasures
only to find the poet’s name
amidst so many more pleasures.

Now here we stand beneath the stars
and think of all the ancient wars
the Romans fought of old

And we will think back with a sigh
– our hearts will leap up really high –
of all the stories told.

It truly was a magical moment of bonding, there up on that roof of the villa… Thank you, Leon, for making that possible.

The rest of the evening was spent talking and having fun, just sitting around in the main room. Most of the participants were due to leave the next morning, hence the “last evening” feeling.

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Villa Vergiliana: a most volcanic day

Today was once more a wonderful day, and I enjoyed every last bit of it, not in the least due to Francesco, the amazing bus driver. He got me safely and without getting sick up the winding road to the summit of the Vesuvius, which is not a mean feat, believe me. But behind every turn there was another fantastic vista, and he was more often grinning than not, when he saw me taking in every single view of the Naples bay.

As for Mount Vesuvius, now there’s a pretty impressing volcano! It took me quite some time to get up the long and steep road from the parking to the actual rim of the crater, due to my lack of breath and overal fitness, I’m pretty ashamed to admit. But finally I made it, thanks to the verbal support and patiently waiting of Wietse and Juliana, and oh lemon (inside joke), what a view! And not only the very strong gusts of wind were responsible for the goose bumps I got up there: Wietse read out some lines in Latin from Plinius, where he describes the eruption of Vesuvius, and Leon provided us with a very liberal and exhilarating translation of them. You know, standing on the edge of the crater, at one side the actual crater with the fumaroles, at the other side the beautiful view over the Bay of Naples, while listening to Plinius being read out: it doesn’t get any better than that.

 

Slowly we made our way back down again, only to arrive in Herculaneum around midday. We had our picknick there and went inside. And yet once more, I was baffled. The city is actually in a pit, and I never even considered why. But when in 79 AD the Vesuvius erupted, the entire column of rocks, dirt and ashes collapsed onto the city, burying it in a layer of at least 25 metres of volcanic debris. The locked vaults which were situated at the coast line, were now quite some kilometers inland, and the whole excavation – taken litterally in this case – is indeed a pit. But what a pit!

We slowly made our way through the exquisite little coastal city, looked into the houses, at the frescos and mosaics, and did our photo assignment. Divided into three groups, we had to ‘die’ in Herculaneum: three pics, first about the very moment we discovered the eruption, then the fleeing, and at last the dying in the city. While our pictures might not have been the best, we really had fun making them. And I think the dying one is pretty neat, mostly thanks to Daan.

On the trip went, to Oplonti, the Villa Poppaea. My students in 6th grade now her by now all too well, Nero’s mistress and eventually second wife, who got kicked to death by her violent husband. He gave her (or so we think, at least) this villa, and it’s a beautiful specimen of a rustic villa. There we had another assignment: we paired up and took a ‘Grand Tour portrait’ like people used to have their portrait painted in the 17th century when travelling through Europe. I teamed up with Geert, we borrowed an ancient volume of Vergilius and used my coat (I especially brought it for this assignment) and we had great fun making the portrait.

Last but not least, we drove back to Cumae, only to visit another volcano, the Solfatara. It’s still quite active, with a bubbling pool, very hot spots, a Bocca Grande (a large fumarole) and an ancient kind of sauna devised for health reasons by the Romans. It was hot there, and very smelly due to the sulphur.

We drove home, had some nice spare time, went for delicious dinner,

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and then did our frescoes. The first night – while I still was on a plane – everyone made a base structure for a fresco. Luckily they thought of making a spare one for me, as I was arriving late. Today we all got our moulds with a fresh layer of plaster, and got a lot different colours to work with. I thought I’d keep it easy, and went for the mount Vesuvius which had made a tremendous impression on me.

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Anyway, this was another glorious day that I won’t forget easily. Lucky me!