Finally made it to Pompei (either spelling is correct)

Saturday evening - our connecting train to Pompei has an hour + 10 min delay, because of this we reached our destination very late on a scary regional train with tons of graffitti on the platform signs. Because of this, we were never really sure just how far we'd gone. Krystal is standing in the train galley checking our route and a guy standing there asks her out of the blue where she was getting off. She answered Pompei and he said quite directly that we needed to get off at the next stop. The scribbled note from the train station all of sudden seemed to make sense. The destination was not very clear but we made the stop and hoped for the best. After departing the train we were joined by a stray dog, very friendly looking to us, and apparently intimidating to other's we passed because no one bothered us. This dog walked with us even crossing a busy street and then sat right down when we came to the gates of a hotel. Ringing the bell got us buzzed in and turning back to see the dog, it was gone. Hotel Vittoria turns out to be a parking lot away from the entrance to the Pompei ruins. Freaky. Spent a leisurely 7.0 hours there Sunday, and it was OK because come to find out we missed the Brothel and the Garden of Fugitives. That night we walked 15 minutes to the town square, watched some hottie Italian police book it on foot after some bad guys, half the people there followed the action but we just found a place to eat and chowed out.

Monday, Char's official birthday, we headed out early to get a ride to Vesuvius. Hooked up with a family from Ireland ( those Irish like Italy) and took one of the scariest rides in a mini van ever. Too much scarey to write about here, we can give you the details later. The Irish man was in the front seat on the way to the volcano, but he offered the seat up to Char on the way back and still jumped when he saw a bus was approaching us - funny, now. The ride takes you almost all the way to the top, but the last part you hike requires your mother to be a mountain goat and you dad to be a mule. Heart pounding out of chest, calves tied up in knots, sweating bullets, WHAT A RIDE. We made it to the top and stood there breathing in clouds, realing breathing the clouds in, they were all around us. Looked down to the bay of Napels and could barely see it. Hiking down proved to be almost more dangerous than hiking up. Krystal almost biffied it twice, guess grandmother was a ballerina, good genes.

Caught a train outta town headed for Roma (Rome, either spelling is correct).