Pompeii

Twenty seven boys – four teachers – in one of the busiest airports in the world – a feat only the Classics department would undertake. Yet even after a rucksack mysteriously disappeared and a boy carelessly misplaced his boarding pass (not mentioning any names), the Latinists made it clear that the show must go on – and on it did. A good few DS battery lives later, after a rather tranquil flight and a not so tranquil coach journey, we arrived at our four-night accommodation: Hotel Il Faro in the small town of Sorrento. Straight away we were greeted by the owner, who from that moment on became known as ‘Mafia Man’ by us imaginative boys. After making a local ice-cream stall €50 richer, we were all fast asleep dreaming in anticipation of what was yet to come.

Pompeii for most of us City boys is a city known for housing Caecilius and his diverse array of family and slaves. Though when we finally did reach his famous house, about which I have done many a comprehension and test, the feeling of wanting to burn the place down left me, and instead I decided to take a picture in front of the garden that 2000 years ago Metella nearly always sat in. Surrounded by tall, looming ruins, with the striking figure of Mount Vesuvius in the distance, we could picture the devastation and destruction that must have occurred all those years ago. But it was only when we saw the plaster-casts of the people that were suffocated by the ash that we realised just how horrible it must have been. Back in Sorrento, with my stomach two chicken legs, a spoonful of mash and a lemon ice cream heavier, we left for the nearest bowling alley. After a fierce and competitive game, with aching arms and half-closed eyes, we tramped back to our hotel and instantly fell asleep.

Thursday 31^st March 2011, the day City boys and staff took on Vesuvius. Armed with wooden sticks and a warning from our tour guide not to buy the gimmicky yellow rocks, we braved the volcano that last erupted only sixty seven years ago. The path was steep and rocky, nonetheless even after two boys were robbed of their sunhats by the greedy wind, we continued up the great slopes of Vesuvius showing determination that would make the school proud. Finally, with backs aching and throats crying for water, we reached the crater. After buying a yellow rock to annoy our tour guide, we headed back down to be greeted by a big bowl of pasta. Herculaneum was next on the agenda, a town covered by lava when Vesuvius erupted. Now most of it has been excavated, so as in Pompeii we walked through the ruins, including a network of tunnels through the solidified lava and a glass case with the skeleton of one of the victims of the eruption. Once we raised the local economy, as our tour guide put it, we headed back to our hotel and to dinner before another game of bowling. After the previous day’s losers avenged their losses, we were back in bed as tiredness swept in...

On the last day of our great endeavours, we took the hydrofoil to Capri, a small island to the south of Naples. The highest point on this island is Villa Jovis, which was once the home of the Emperor Tiberius. After what seemed like a never-ending walk up to his domain through the narrow alleys of Capri, we reached the top, and were rewarded with some stunning scenery. Then we walked around the remains of Tiberius’ home, and saw the cliff-face from which he infamously threw his enemies. We decided not to rebel and throw a teacher off the cliff; instead we sought peace by posing in front of our superb surroundings. When we had finished our lunch, we were led around another part of Capri, which showcased an even better vista. Once back, we were drawn by the excellent weather to one of the beaches to play football. Suddenly, as the sun started to shine down on us, a group of girls in beachwear ran on to our makeshift pitch and started to kick the ball randomly in any direction. All of a sudden, the number of City boys rapidly increased, and the skill and focus levels multiplied (mirroring those of professionals) – much to the amusement of the eighteen year old Canadians.  

With bags packed and tears wiped away, we left Sorrento after another game of beach football – this time without the girls – unfortunately. But as we travelled back, with headphones vibrating, iTouches gleaming and DSs making lots of noise, the thought of three weeks holiday was hampered by the fact that we were leaving Naples, with its sumptuous scenery and vivid vestiges, back home to unpredictable England. And so, to sum up this trip in one word: classic (if you’ll pardon the pun).