In Europe you are surrounded by history. The age of the homes people inhabit. The hilltop ruins along the highway. The art and architectural magnificence you find in nearly every city. It’s even there in the daily happenings. Hannah and I stumbled into a simple parade last weekend while on a grocery run. A troupe of a dozen boys in velvet outfits marched to a snare drum, flags hoisted. The procession for a simple neighborhood soccer game.
But Saturday, we walked through the gates at Pompeii and stepped back in time like we have never before done. We’ve all heard the stories. Ancient city, frozen in time by the falling ash of an erupting Vesuvius. How the simple direction of the wind could bring fate to one town and leave another untouched. But it was incredible.
The cobbled streets bore the wear of carriage wheels. The homes still displayed colorful frescoes and mosaics. The bathhouses offered a look at the innovation of their engineering. And, most amazingly, the ash and poisonous gasses stopped people in their tracks. Later, as archaeologists discovered the remains, they poured plaster into the cavities in the volcanic soil and created perfect castings of the victims. You can see the texture of their clothes and the expressions on their faces.
It’s tragic, and at the same time, such an amazing, intimate look at a moment in our history that we were all stunned.
Turn off the main streets and you find yourself on a quiet alleyway, walking between homes. You can picture people passing each other on the narrow sidewalks, or standing at the corner bar as the merchant ladled wine or olive oil out of the casks set into the counter.
We wandered the entire ruins. We saw the coliseum, which is actually the best preserved, and oldest of its kind. We sat in the forum, where elders held court and orators presented to the people. We stood in homes, and admired the artwork still painted on the walls. On streets, elaborate graffiti still exists where officials running for office lobbied for votes.
Sunday morning, we went to Herculanium, the sister town on the coast, which was covered, not by ash, but by a pyroclastic flow of superheated mud. We hired a guide to take us through the site, explaining details we would have otherwise missed. Because the mud sealed the town more completely than the ash of Pompeii, the home were even better preserved. Lead pipe from indoor plumbing lines still hung along walls. Wooden doors, staircases and bed frames remained. And the frescoes and sculpture was even closer to original.
Rather than try to explain it all, I’ll just include some pictures to share.
But Saturday, we walked through the gates at Pompeii and stepped back in time like we have never before done. We’ve all heard the stories. Ancient city, frozen in time by the falling ash of an erupting Vesuvius. How the simple direction of the wind could bring fate to one town and leave another untouched. But it was incredible.
The cobbled streets bore the wear of carriage wheels. The homes still displayed colorful frescoes and mosaics. The bathhouses offered a look at the innovation of their engineering. And, most amazingly, the ash and poisonous gasses stopped people in their tracks. Later, as archaeologists discovered the remains, they poured plaster into the cavities in the volcanic soil and created perfect castings of the victims. You can see the texture of their clothes and the expressions on their faces.
It’s tragic, and at the same time, such an amazing, intimate look at a moment in our history that we were all stunned.
Turn off the main streets and you find yourself on a quiet alleyway, walking between homes. You can picture people passing each other on the narrow sidewalks, or standing at the corner bar as the merchant ladled wine or olive oil out of the casks set into the counter.
We wandered the entire ruins. We saw the coliseum, which is actually the best preserved, and oldest of its kind. We sat in the forum, where elders held court and orators presented to the people. We stood in homes, and admired the artwork still painted on the walls. On streets, elaborate graffiti still exists where officials running for office lobbied for votes.
Sunday morning, we went to Herculanium, the sister town on the coast, which was covered, not by ash, but by a pyroclastic flow of superheated mud. We hired a guide to take us through the site, explaining details we would have otherwise missed. Because the mud sealed the town more completely than the ash of Pompeii, the home were even better preserved. Lead pipe from indoor plumbing lines still hung along walls. Wooden doors, staircases and bed frames remained. And the frescoes and sculpture was even closer to original.
Rather than try to explain it all, I’ll just include some pictures to share.
Much like Mt St. Helens, Vesuvius blew about 30 percent of it's top off during the eruption.
The sidewalks were tall, so open sewage could flow down the streets. And intersections had large stepping stones to avoid the much.
The narrow granite streets show the timeless wear from steel cart wheels. Scientists looking at the tracks by microscope discovered that they all head in one direction, suggesting that the city actually had a series of one-way streets.
The frescoes and elaborate tile work we amazing. Still colorful and clean, like they had been painted decades ago, rather than a few years after Jesus walked the earth.
Stepping off onto side streets away from the crowds, it was easy to picture them filled with merchants, and residents out on their daily rounds.
Remarkably preserved, many of the homes featured wonderful paintings, typically commissioned by talented slaves, to paint scenes or portraits on the walls.
This bathhouse in a private home had some of the best mosaics and frescoes we saw. The engineering was amazing. Subfloors carried scalding water to create steam. Ceilings featured ribs that allowed the water vapor to run down to collection tanks rather than drip on the heads of bathers. And a vomitorium in the corner allowed bathers to enjoy a quick purge before continuing to eat and drink.
A man struggles to protect his family as they succumb to the poison gas and piles of ash.
In Herculanium, the hot mud protected the homes from oxygenation over the centuries, preserving not only the walls and artwork but the wooden railings and racks for oil and wine. It looks charred as if the remains of a fire.
An amazing collection of amphorae for wine, water and olive oil were found intact, as well as shards (in the yellow bins) in the process of careful reassembly.
The early Romans were proud of their genitalia as our guide, to Hannah's total mortification, pointed out on way too many occasions.
The early Pompeiians believed that if you put the fountain faucet into the mouth of a woman's face, it would flow forever, uninterrupted. (ok. I made that up).