Mount Vesuvius

What was supposed to be the beginning of the Naples trip became the end of the trip.  What looked like a hike in the rain became a hike in the wind.  Vesuvius didn't care: it wasn't going anywhere, and, lucky for us, it wasn't erupting.

Last time I hiked Vesuvius I was twenty-three, it was summer, and my friend Racquel annoyed the heck out of me.  It was hot, and I came prepared with my liter of water.  Racquel, an ardent lover of animals, felt bad for the thirsty dogs on the path.  She, with her tiny bottle of water, had drunk and shared hers already with them.  Now she badgered me.  I wanted my water for myself: that's why I brought it.  (I like to think I've evolved over time, or perhaps it's having kids -- I'm happy now to actually be the one to have something to share.  So often we were the ones without a diaper or a snack or a water, and people rescued us, and I admire these always prepared people, a person I am not as I was in my twenties.  Now I'm grateful whenever I have something I am in a position to share, thrilled to seem organized and to feel on top of things for a minute.  Still, I confess that I would drink my water now rather than sharing it with the dog.)  Eventually I gave in -- peer pressure -- and Racquel and I have laughed about it, both completely aware of the frustration of the other: I thought she was unreasonable and nagging; she thought I was selfish.

Alas.

We brought plenty of water.

For the first time on our Naples trip, we were at an entrance two minutes early.  We parked behind the one other car there, got tickets for the shuttle, and got in.  At the next stop, we bought our tickets to hike up to the crater.  It's not a far walk, maybe half a mile (I should be saying how many kilometers, but I'm not there yet), but it is uphill, severely at times.  We looked out over Naples, the reverse view we had had for four days: from our apartment, from Pompeii, from the ferry ride to Capri -- we were always looking at Vesuvius, finding it every chance we could.  Now we were on it, our feet on the dirt, looking out toward all the rest.

We looked into that massive crater, finding it hard to imagine it full of liquids, so dry did it look.  We extended our arms to feel the wind (try to) blow us on the path.  We drank hot chocolate at the top, where Daniel asked a man whether it was always this windy, and he said, No, just today.  When I got back to the bottom, Hannah and Connor were playing some game that reminded me Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack all dressed in black black black with silver buttons buttons buttons...except that the game is to count and skip a number every ten.  They counted in Italian and laughed.

No dogs to feed.

No struggles over water.

I wonder what they'll remember.