We started off the day early, for which I was grateful, given the almost 11,000 cruise ship passengers in port for the day.
At around 8am, we were hustled off to the bus to be whisked away to the land of ancient pervy people. After a brief introduction, the tour guide (again, unsurprisingly in heavily accented English) announced we were going to a factory first!
Um… wot?
“Yezzz… awre yung pee-pul do not wahnt to go eeento the traditionale trayd-zah so we eeeeencourage zee mudders to exposeh zaire children…”
Sigh. More “muzzles and clahms” to pad the outing…
I mentally re-entered the conversation.
“Toilets! Zo eeeeeemportant, no? Zen after we zee the artisans work with zee pore-zal-lin, we go Pom-pay, eh?”
I forked over 130 smackers to see someone craft a fancy-ass toilet?!!
I groaned.
The merchant tried to wave us over to where someone was starting up a presentation, but I decided I’d rather utilize the product than watch them make it.
Walking out of the ladies, I turned to Beloved and noted for a place using artists to make toilets, those were remarkably plain potties. Like, standard issue.
Beloved giggled. “You know they carve shells into jewelry, right? The use of the bathrooms was just a side benefit.”
What?
Yep. Ufff. Okay. Never mind on the fancy privies.
So they then herded us into the showroom full of jewelry starting at €200 and going up from there. Not terribly interested.
The one thing that was odd were the statues. Little boys. Naked little boys. Gilded naked little boys.
Yeah, no, they didn’t paint gold on their eyelashes or hair. I’ve heard of gilding the lily but never gilding the willies. What a weird-ass thing to do.
You wanna see a picture, you’re outta luck. That was just wrong. However, on to Pompeii…
Pompeii had a major earthquake in 64 AD, most likely part of Vesuvius getting ready to rumble – the city was still rebuilding when, in 79 AD, the volcano blew it’s top. It, and other nearby cities, were buried under ash, the residents killed instantly by the toxic fumes and the pyroclastic cloud.
It was then forgotten.
In 1594, Domingo Fontana discovered the town, and excavated a water way but then he… dug his way into… well… a brothel. Horrified as he realized the nature of the artwork, he promptly did a feline imitation and covered the offending reveal.
It then went largely ignored for about 150 years, at which point the world realized what was there (save for common looters who were poking around during the interim). In 1748, as excavations began in earnest, other countries figured out they could decorate their castles and mansions with… ah… “discoveries” in foreign lands.
Charles III of Spain decided to decorate the royal court with the Pompeiian antiquities. (Finally… not a Brit.)
They totally trashed the first section of Pompeii, pilfering and destroying as they went. However, the city is 7.8 sq miles… it’s huge. As a result, there was still a LOT to uncover – and even now they estimate there’s a third of the city still untouched.
It was crowded, but not overbearingly so, given how many people were there. Also, it was hot, but not unmanageably so.
Off we went. A few years ago, the Italians installed some sidewalks to improve accessibility, but it’s still crazy walking in there. Pompeiian streets were paved with lava stone, not known for it’s staying power, so there’s ruts and really uneven bits.
There’s a guard cat at Pompeii. I thought there were two, but comparing the pictures, one taken at the entrance, another while waiting in line in the red light district, I think it’s the same kitty.
Ah, yes… the red light district. Much like the jewelers we visited at the outset, the people of Pompeii seemed a bit pre-occupied with… male genitalia. Given I’ve held my lesbian membership card for nigh on forty years, I trust you’ll understand my somewhat less fascinated state. However, in the interest of education, I’ll do my best.
So as a port city engaging in international trade (they found a Pompeiian pottery piece in India), there were a lot of sailors showing up… so the tourism trade in wine, women and song was robust.
The method of advertising was… well… the more things change, the more they stay the same.
With the array of foreigners wishing to partake of their services, the brothel owners made frescoes (wall paintings) showing the menu. If the john didn’t speak the language, he could simply point to what he wanted. The guy taking his money would give him a token to give to the young lady, showing what he’d paid for.
Quite ingenious, really, if you don’t think about the human trafficking element of it.
Not only that, they had street signs… uh… pointing the way to the brothels. Subtlety wasn’t exactly their strong point.
It wasn’t just in the brothels, either – the bars had signs that said “For the price of a glass of wine, you can spend a half hour with one of our young ladies.”
Damn. That’s either really expensive wine, or they had more prostitutes than they could manage.
The rest of the tour was interesting (tragic, but interesting)… the way they collected water from their roofs, for example:
They had all kinds of meeting places:
Examining Misadventures 