Travel Biography - Week 31

Leaving Milan for Naples.

During the late Summer or early Autumn of 1982, I began the Round Italy journey by spending the first weekend at Derek's Milan apartment before continuing with the journey. I recall that morning when my friend from Bracknell Baptist Church (as it was before renaming it the Kerith Centre) drove me to the city's Central Station. It was a wet, miserable morning, and we were driving behind a slow-moving truck, heightening the dreariness of the environment.

Ah! What a beautiful picture postcard scene. I bet I'm the envy of many. I joked as our car crawled behind the lorry.

I envy you as you're about to travel south to Naples. I wish I can come with you! My friend replied.

We hugged as I promised to return to his apartment just under three weeks later to see me off back to the UK. He went to the office to work whilst I remained in Milan until it was time to board the train bound for Naples Central, the city's terminus station.

Milan Central Station, interior.

One has to consider that train journeys along the Italian peninsula were considerably longer in the 1970s and the 1980s than they are at present. The more recent introduction of high-speed trains, which reduced the distance time from nine to five hours between Milan and Naples didn't exist back then. Instead, the fastest trains were the Rapido, where a supplementary fee was added to the price of a ticket. Next down was the Expresso, a train which stopped at all principal stations. Next, the Diretto, which indicates a journey with more frequent stops. However, often, that did not necessarily apply, for example, in the 1981 trip from Torino Porta Nuova to Loano, which was a Diretto service, the journey was still non-stop. Finally, the Locale speaks for itself, a short-distance train calling at all stops. 

Therefore, in 1982, I took an overnighter, (to save on hotel bills) and it was already daylight the next morning when the train pulled into Roma Tiburtina, the capital's second-largest station after Roma Termini, and a through station allowing all trains to continue its journey without the need to reverse out. The journey then continued for another hour or so before pulling into Napoli Centrale.

Arriving in Naples and visiting Pompeii.

I was already familiar with the area after first visiting the Neapolitan region back in 1973. Over nine years, little had changed, hence I found my way around easily. Already, I knew where I wanted to go. A day's visit to the Scavi de Pompeii. To do so, I made my way to Napoli Porta Nolana, a smaller terminus which was a short walk from the Central station, and it was for the Circumvesuviana line which serves Pompeii as one of its stops.

Although classified as Locale, I was surprised how many stations the train skipped as it made its way along the coast, with a view of the sea from one side, and that of Mt Vesuvio from the other. These included Torre del Greco, Santa Maria la Bruna, Torre Annunziata, Ercolano, and others. Finally, the train came to a halt at Pompeii, where I alighted.

Unlike in 1973, when the sun was out, this time the sky was overcast and the ground was wet, indicating recent rain. Surprisingly enough, there were very few tourists around, and I recall walking through one of its streets alone, passing nobody. This gave the excavation more of a look of death - the city which was frozen in time since that fateful day when Mt Somma erupted in 79 AD, spewing pyroclastic flows in its direction and burying it along with its sister city Herculaneum.

Although the outer wall of the excavations roughly resembles an oval, its streets were laid out in a fairly neat grid pattern, a characteristic of many Roman towns, although the only slight deviation from perfect symmetry was the outline of a much smaller and more ancient Old City, the original Pompeii, located in the southwest corner. The street layout followed the old wall enclosure. Indeed, like I did in 1973, I visited the theatre, the amphitheatre and its neighbouring palaestra, an exercise yard complete with a swimming pool, and also one of its classic Roman homes. It was at one of those homes where much of the life of a typical Roman resident was uncovered.

The Atrium was central to the house, and from it, all the rooms branched off. On the floor in the middle of the atrium was the Impluvium, a rectangle resembling a small swimming pool, roughly five feet and four feet, 1.5 and 1.2 metres in size and around six to nine inches 15-23 cm deep. The roofing was arranged in such a way, that from all four sloping sides, rainwater dripped, or even poured into the impluvium, thus creating the household's water supply.

When I realised this, I couldn't help wondering how they coped with the supply during the warm summer months, although going by my own experience in 1973, I was drenched by a heavy rainstorm whilst attempting to hike up Mt Vesuvius. And that happened in August. Perhaps in their day, frequent summer storms kept the pool topped up.

Impluvium in a Roman House, Pompeii.

Not to mention the beautiful garden, surrounded by colonnades and often with a water feature in the middle. And in some of the larger homes owned by the rich, a private Lararium, or sanctuary was also discovered, along with a private Thermae, or bath. 

The lararium gives a clue to the multitude of quarrelling deities worshipped by the residents. Although most of their religious beliefs were centred on earthly prosperity, especially in health and agriculture, their faith wasn't totally confined to wealth, according to historians. As an example, although as a Christian, I'm aware there is only one God and his Son Jesus Christ, throughout history, Christian apologists were also aware that Scripture such as what Jesus himself said in Matthew 13:11 - Because it's given to you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them, it's not given. Or Paul's first letter to Corinthians 15:51-52 - Behold, I show you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of the eye, at the last trump: For the trumpet will sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible - would have been easily known, understood, and accepted by the ancient Roman worshippers of various deities such as Jupiter, Hermes, or Apollo. As I see it, the difference between their ancient faith and today's Prosperity Gospel preaching doesn't look to be that far off the mark.*

And the bathhouse is one feature of ancient Roman culture I find most inspiring. I would go as far as to say that except for modern technology and sanitation requirements, there is little difference between Roman thermae and today's spas.

In Pompeii, there were the Stabian Baths which had all the facilities of a modern sports and leisure centre. Adjoining the course of the ancient city wall, the site featured the supervisor's office, the men's and women's changing rooms, latrines, the palaestra, a Natatio (swimming pool), men's frigidarium (cold plunge pool), the tepidarium (warm room), the calidarium (hot steam room) and the laconidum (dry hot room, like the modern sauna). The same bathing facilities were also provided for women too. It must have been a marvellous facility, although with them unaware of the existence of bacteria, I find it a wonder how often diseases erupted after immersing in unchlorinated water.

As both my parents were from Italy, and Dad, in particular, had his family in Rome, I have considered whether I'm more of a Roman descendant than British, let alone English! For example, when at home, I have my meals in a reclining position on the sofa - just as the Romans ate. I exercised in a gym, followed by a session in the spa suite, consisting of the hot room, the steam room and the cold plunge pool - very similar to the Roman Thermae. Since the age of 23 years, I have visited the sauna regularly, that is, from 1976. I still attend regularly today. A throwback from Roman heritage, still inbred in me?

The journey to Brindisi.

As the evening was approaching, I made my way back to Naples. I had no intention to find a hotel in the city, but to continue the train journey, this time to the port of Brindisi, on the Adriatic coast, east of Naples and on the other side of the peninsula. The reason why I chose this particular town was that I heard someone talk about it, and I thought it was a good place to visit, and furthermore, to stay in a hotel and rest from constant travel.

Whilst at the Central station, I met another young man who also held an Italian train pass. When I told him that I was heading for Brindisi, he decided to accompany me, at least for the journey. We talked, and we had coffee together before boarding the train, another overnighter.

By the following morning, we had arrived, and after a while, we amicably decided to go our separate ways. I believe that he went back to the station, while I looked for an appropriate hotel. As with all other times, there was no problem in finding one.

Brindisi was a port where ferries left daily for the Greek port of Patras, on mainland Greece. This particular landmass is very nearly an island - and would have been had it not been for a very narrow landbridge classifying the land into a peninsula. Near this natural land bridge is the city of Corinth.

The start of the Appian Way, Brindisi.

Other than a port, Brindisi marks the beginning of the Appian Way, a Roman Road which leads up to ancient Rome. Above a flight of steps, two plinths stand like guarding sentries, marking the start of the route, but little or no remains of the road could be seen here.

Yet, it's believed that Paul the apostle used the latter section of this road after landing at the Three Taverns, near Naples, after sailing from Siracusa, Sicily. Once having arrived in Rome, he was allowed an apartment under house arrest but was allowed to be visited by anyone who wanted to see him.

After several days in Brindisi, I boarded a train for another overnight journey to Sicily. But to get there, I had to change trains at Taranto. After arriving in this town right on the "heel" of Italy, I had an hour to spare, enough to quickly check out the town.

I must have ventured into the Old Town. Normally, this would have held a greater interest to me than the wide, traffic-laden street. The road was narrow, more like a medieval souk of Jerusalem Old City. However, a few metres in front was a dog, loose, without a lead and no human about. The dog was quite large, like a Rottweiler, and basically blocked the street. As it turned to look at me, I felt my skin crawl, and my hair standing on end.

I turned around and hasted back to the station without looking to see whether the dog was following me. However, I didn't run. To have done so would have excited the dog to start chasing me. Instead, the dog remained where it was and I felt relieved when the station came into view. I decided to spend the rest of that hour on the platform until the appropriate train pulled in, and I quickly boarded. Phew! Taranto is off my list. The historic city may be very touristy during the day. But in the small hours of the night, I had never seen such a creepy street.

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*Source: Pompeii AD79. The Academy of Arts, London, 1976-1977.

Next Week: How I endangered myself to fulfil somebody else's wish.