Trains and boats and planes ... and the odd bus: Mediterranean 2014

This post combines Civitavecchia (where my friends Kathy & Michael join the ship), Pompeii, Naples and Sorrento.

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Civitavecchia is Rome's much maligned port. Over centuries, millennia, millions have passed through. Few stay. The writer Stendhal, French consul here from 1831 to 1842, apparently thoroughly disliked the town. Augustus Hare in Days Near Rome (1875) said, ’Civita Vecchia (sic) is a place utterly devoid of interest, and in the eyes of those who arrive at Rome by sea, is only connected with much discomfort and an ardent desire to get away'. My 1881 Handbook is adamant: 'There is nothing to detain the traveller ... ' The port was heavily bombed during the war and many older buildings destroyed.

You would then expect me to leave as hurriedly as possible. No. Having stayed in Rome a number of times, I am determined to avoid the highly skilled pickpockets on the train to the Eternal City. Plus, research indicates Civitavecchia has possibilities, if only the absence of (other) tourists.

I am charmed.

Hey! You wouldn't expect me to leave Italy without a washing shot, would you?

However, even Google doesn't prepare me for one of the trip's highlights. A sidewalk chat - which, not speaking Italian, I don't really understand - takes me into a down-at-heels palazzo in Civitavecchia's small medieval quarter.

The building is owned by this delightful couple, Tarcisio and Teresa.

The essentials are eventually revealed by hand gestures, referrals to my electronic translator, vaguely understandable Italian words and deduction. Tarcisio bought the building in 1972. While renovating, he made a discovery.

He had found Renaissance frescoes from the School of Raphael that duplicate paintings in the Vatican. I am left in rooms decorated by a master.

Illustrations show similarities between Tarcisio's frescoes and those in Rome.

I have dutifully inspected some of the world's great art, generally 'mid crowds of like-minded travellers. Rarely (although occasionally privileged as a reporter) have I had great art all to myself. I stand in a shabby, unprepossessing building with washing hanging from the windows and am profoundly moved.

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From the sublime to the tragic. Forever marked by Vesuvius is Pompeii ...

... Pompeii not of solitary appreciation, but of mass tourism. Visitors have come here since the city's 'modern' discovery in 1748.

I decide not to have my picture taken with a Roman soldier ...

... but ponder the reproduction of a famous Pompeii fresco while going down the stairs to the washroom.

A dog enjoys the late autumn sun in the city's forum.

This mosaic - a battle between Alexander the Great and the Persians - is a reproduction as the original is in a museum. The copy lies in the original position.

Pompeii is - to me - surprisingly large and it is possible to actually have contemplative moments to oneself. The picture below is in the baths.

A wall painting, which remains in situ.

Only a cast from a cavity created by volcanic fumes and lava, and decomposition ... but two thousand years ago this was a human's last moments. I experience a sudden, uneasy sense of death voyeurism.

Vesuvius, in Naples' suburbs, remains more dangerous than Italy's other major volcanos, Etna and Stromboli. A local tells me, 'The real godfather of Napoli isn't the Mafia. It's Vesuvius. Vesuvius decides everything'.

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Maasdam has docked in Naples for Pompeii. I take out my camera for a street performer. Buy me dinner and I'll tell you how I think he does it.