Pompeii and Vesuvius, Italy

It is my recollection that the gripping story of the city of Pompeii and its destruction, was part of my English syllabus in the 3rd Standard. While I generally tend to forget things easy, there are now and then things I remember from school which make me wonder why exactly they were taught.

For instance, why out of the very many possibilities of story-telling and English literature, would one choose to teach 7-year old’s the unfortunate and cruel true story of a prospering city along with its inhabitants burned alive by boiling lava from Mt.Vesuvius? Several pages of gory details of death and destruction and nature’s fury descending on hapless men, women and children, some of whom were ‘covered in molten lava’ while still running.

Isn’t all this too much to take, especially when some 7-year old may still be stuck on the title of the page, wondering at the strange name of the city. ” An ‘e’, followed by 2 ‘i’s…I see.. this is new.. how strange..” And then trying to tune one’s ear to a new word, ‘La-va’….”It somehow doesn’t sound dangerous. Sounds rather beautiful,” the 7 year old is thinking.  And then going back to ‘Pompeii’… “Why does this name sound like it belongs to a laughing pink bald fat man in a tunic? He might like to be called Pompo, or Pompy.. can we somehow drop the extra ‘i’.. it is assaulting one’s senses..” she is going on and on while teachers and classmates carry on reading aloud the pages about destroyed lives.

And somehow the bizarre experience of learning this story creates a unique enough memory in the clueless 7-year old’s mind that she is curious to visit the place couple of decades later.  Well actually it’s going to be a year since we visited the place, and I somehow never got around to writing this post. But considering that the town lays destroyed since almost 2000 years, a year is probably insignificant.

Pompeii Town

Funny as it sounds, the ruins are remarkably well-preserved.

This section with the plaster casts of victims of the volcanic eruption, gave me mixed feelings. Travel and tourism can have curiosity at its heart in the best way and the worst way. In the best way, when it seeks to connect, understand and be part of a bigger whole. And the worst when it starts to see everything as novelties to consume. Some tourists were disappointed that these were only plaster casts and not the actual mummified bodies. But then, who thinks that they or theirs should be displayed in a garden to thousands of people as in their final moment? Perhaps the stories of a city’s destruction should be more humane, focusing on the story of one child, with a name. Or of a bald pink chubby man called Pompo.

Mt.Vesuvius

Today it is possible to hike up the formidable Mount Vesuvius. Having watched the tele-series Spartacus, this block of arid mountain acquires even more historical context. The slave-gladiators led by heroic Spartacus, who revolted against the Roman Empire, had taken refuge on this mountain while escaping the soldiers sent after them. Blocked by waiting soldiers on the side they had climbed up from, the slave-gladiators spent many days surviving on the near-absent vegetation on this mountain.

When all options seemed to be exhausted- they did the near-impossible. They climbed down the sheer slope on the opposite side of the mountain by creating ropes of vines. This other side, which had been left unguarded because trying to navigate it anyway meant certain death, became their escape.

Despite the history of destruction, nature’s fury, a republic at war with its slaves.. as at any other time, there was also beauty. Both natural and man-made. The amphitheater in Pompeii is one such space consciously carved for beautiful things.  And even on that day, a year ago when we visited, there was a group of tourists who spontaneously took center-stage and helped fulfill the purpose of this structure from centuries ago.