Laustt

Feb 16
Trained to Rome, switched and took a faster one down the coast to Napoli. The terrain became drigher and more mountainous, with several long tunnels under fingers of craggy elevation jutting out into a sea that generally remained within view. Napoli was large and grimier than anywhere else we'd been on the continent. The bulk of the city sprawled laterally along a gently curving series of hillsides which swept down to the Medshore, vaguely (chaotically) centered about an aging, unimpressive port complex. The geographical & topographical similarity to coastal SoCal was immediately clear; culturally, of course...well, some things are better left unsaid. Brash humanity infused the streets and plazas: everything for sale and not a pricetag in sight. The city and regional buses were packed full of poor dark disoriented immigrants trying to make their way northward or at least into the hills away from the portside bazaars; increasing elevation seemed to reduce the alacrity with which the diesel filth settled on everything. Compared to Rome? Unfair. Shittier cars, shabbier construction, no pretensions of grandeur. No pretensions at all, actually, judging by the trash overflowing into the streets at the busier corners. But who could worry about practical matters like garbage collection with that beautiful conical volcano poking out of the smog across the bay? Nothing would matter to Napolitanos anymore anyway if the thing erupted; surely the city's elders teased their grandchildren with vivid depictions of pyroclastic clouds streaming across the water to catch them in their beds. Visited an "authentic Napoli pizza ristorante" for dinner, sidestepping some trash piles, and moved on to a cheap ripoff of an Irish pub (7oz beer glasses?) called O'Malley's for nightcaps.

Feb 17
Took a commuter train around the base of Vesuvius to Pompeii. It's real! The town was larger than expected; we walked for about ten minutes at a leisurely pace, inspecting the ruins of homes and businesses, and then looked at a map to find we'd moved about a sixteenth of the way across the site. In terms of size this was the Roman equivalent of Nashville, one of us quipped, not Sadbackwater, Tenn. (Someone suppressed a chuckle and looked guilty.) Saw some bodies in ash casts, peaceful except for the dog contorted in such agony it was difficult to look for very long...had the corpse not been encased in Plexiglas someone long ago would certainly have taken a brick to it. Yeesh, we agreed. But we bounced out and spent most of the rest of the day traveling. Reached Berlin around 11 and met up with Anna and Christine again. Looked for bars in Friedrichshain; found a quiet cocktail space half below ground and ordered a few whatever beers in pint bottles (praises sung accordingly). Asked the waitress where to find a more lively estab and after spitting in our drinks deliberately, looking deep into each set of eyes as she moved clockwise about the table, she directed us to a place called The Matrix, which squatted under an elevated-train station in a dingy riverside industrial park. Highlight (only): the good-looking Teutons dancing with themselves on a depopulated dance floor. They're paid to dance in place like that and they aren't allowed to dance with one another, flatted Christine with the blase certainty of a female who's spent time in the back office of a gentleman's club, and-what-do-you-think-about-that. We left presently.