The bus hums along following the universally generic white line vista of the Autostrade (but for wrong side of the road, Italian road signs and the billowing bedcloth and shirt decorated apartments that punctuate the countryside)...and then it appears, the risen from, and broken king of the Campanian landscape, the great dominant natural citadel that is Vesuvio. The bus somehow winds round and round up the mountain itself on a road barely wide enough for two Fiat Bambino to pass side by side (when bus going up meets bus coming down - as happens many times - there begins a strange dance of who will lead and who succumb to reverse in order for both to continue). Miraculously we make it to the base camp and here we begin our ascent (leaving the bus driver and his fellow sherpas to deal with the mayhem of three point turn etiquette Vesuvian style). The climb taxes everyone's aerobic capacity, but is compensated for by the most thrillingly spectacular views of the Bay of Naples imaginable. Soon we are staring down into the abyss and aside from the faint whiff of sulphur there is nothing to remind us of the molten fury and horror once unleashed from within, the catastrophic and destructive firepower which, in the process of eliminating the ancient inhabitants all around, inadvertently provided us with the unique time capsule that will form the focus of attentions in the following days.
And then, what greater reward for our climb than to relax for our scaling of the summit (well, walking up the crowded upward path), than to relax to relax in the mesmerisingly beautiful surrounds of Vico Equense (see Barb's post from yesterday). Here our hotel sits perched atop a cliff top overlooking a postcard coastline and the waiters serve ladies first and only from the left. It all really feels to good to be true...but it is!!
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