Naples & Sorrento

After a whirlwind tour of three of Italy’s blockbuster cities—Venice, Florence, and Rome—we were going to downshift into a lower gear for the next two weeks and enjoy a slower pace along the Napoli and Amalfi coasts. As you can see from the map, this is all one fairly small area, much of it within the borders of the city of Naples, but we did enough during this time that it deserves a few separate posts. I’m just going to focus on Naples & Sorrento here. If you’re still recovering from my insanely long post on Rome, don’t worry—this isn’t going to be like that. The whole point of visiting this area is to relax, and that’s largely what we did. (Or at least as much as our family seems capable of!) So I’ll just try to give you some of the highlights of our stay and an overview of our destinations. While these places are indeed historic—this is still Italy, after all—I don’t believe you need much historical context to really appreciate their virtues.

(BTW, on custom maps like these, Google only allows me to add driving routes, not train and ferry routes, even though we used the latter in most cases. If I had loads more time, I would draw our actual routes between places, but…you get the idea.)

Naples

After rushing around Rome with us for five days, Amy talked her parents into extending their vacation and continuing on with us to Sorrento. So the five of us piled onto another fast train for the quick journey from Rome to Naples, which is only a little more than an hour. From there, we could have switched to a slower regional train for the 75 minute trip to Sorrento. But Amy liked the idea of mixing things up a bit and taking a ferry from Naples to Sorrento instead, which is actually much faster, and spending a few hours exploring Naples in between. It seemed like sound logic at the time, but…it turned out to be a little more of an adventure than she planned!

The first project was figuring out what to do with our considerable luggage. It’s not easy to pack for a year-long trip; besides things like laundry detergent, cooking staples, and school stuff for Griffin, we’ve also been lugging around winter clothes and umbrellas that we haven’t used much since Barcelona in March. Not much use now in the summer heat, but what else were we going to do with it all, especially since it would surely come in handy when we got to the UK in a few weeks? But since we had to return to Rome for our flight out in a couple weeks, I had the idea to store all this extra stuff there. I got one of those huge Ikea-style shopping bags, stashed all our winter stuff in it, and dropped it off at one of the plethora of luggage-storage shops that are all over European cities. It wasn’t cheap, but I was quickly going to be glad I did! Meanwhile, as we approached Naples, I found another such shop near the station there for us to drop off all our remaining luggage, so that we could walk around Naples unencumbered.

As soon as that was taken care of, our very next stop had to be…pizza. Because we were in Naples after all, the birthplace of this divine culinary gift. The city where Elizabeth Gilbert made a pilgrimage to indulge in that now-famous double mozzarella pizza in Eat, Pray, Love. We didn’t follow in her footsteps to the L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele, which is surely too famous now for its own good, but headed instead to another highly rated but lesser known joint near the train station: Pizzeria Pellone. Decor and ambience are not its strong suits, but the pizza…well, we all agreed that it was the best we’d ever eaten, and we’re all still talking about it! The only snafu was a misunderstanding with the waiter about mine. I’ll be the first to admit that my Italian totally sucks, but I thought that senza formaggio—without cheese—was pretty clear. Imagine my surprise then when it arrived covered with mozzarella. The waiter argued (mostly in Italian) that I had only asked for no cheese, not no mozzarella. Say what? Since when is mozzarella not a cheese? But apparently, not all Italians consider it to be one, because the exact same thing happened to me a week or so later in Ischia. Grudgingly, the waiter remade my pizza. Which luckily only took about 3 minutes, because they cook pizza so quickly here! Amy and her family gorged on, ironically, a cheese-pizza topped with anchovies and capers.

Moving on, we started exploring. Naples is much more of a bustling port city than a tourist attraction, and Amy had warned me not to have high expectations, that it was gritty—the “real Italy”, she called it. From the moment we walked out of the train station, it was obvious what she meant. (I’ve already complained about how slovenly Italy can be, and I won’t do it again here.) But Naples has some nicer bits too, especially around the big boulevard Corso Umberto I, which cuts across the city, and the historic Via Toledo, a relatively cute shopping street in the shadow of a big hill topped by an imposing monastery. At the end of Via Toledo, we found a grand old Art Nouveau shopping pavilion with an arched glass roof built in 1890, the Galleria Umberto I, which would have been right at home in London. Next door we discovered more surprises, including the opulent San Carlo Theatre (from 1737), a medieval fortress called the Castel Nuovo, and a large colonnaded square, the Piazza del Plebiscito. On one side of the square was an unusual domed church, the Basilica Reale Pontificia San Francesco da Paola, and on the other was a royal palace, the Palazzo Reale di Napoli. Apparently, Naples controlled a kingdom—the Kingdom of Naples—that encompassed all of southern Italy from 1282 to 1816, and an even larger kingdom that included Sicily until 1860. Naples was a big deal, and had its share of royal palaces—four, to be exact. We weren’t touring any churches or palaces today, but we did pop in to look at a famous staircase and enjoyed a series of statues facing the square of some important people, many of which seemed unintentionally comical.

All of this—the church, the square, the palace, and the castle—is perched on a bluff overlooking the port, with views over the Med and towards Mt. Vesuvius just south of the city. Yes, that Mt. Vesuvius, the notorious volcano that destroyed the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum when it erupted in 79 AD. And it’s still active, with at least 50 recorded eruptions. So why is such a big important city—Italy’s third largest—built practically on its slopes? Go figure.

With the afternoon slipping away, it was time for us to work our way down to the port and find the ferry terminal and our boat to Sorrento, which departed in a couple hours. We were hot and sticky, but at least there was some cloud cover to provide relief, for which we were thankful. That is, until Griffin noticed that it was starting to rain. And then, moment later…it was pouring. Not a light summer rain, but a torrential downpour. The forecast had warned of intermittent thunderstorms, but we hadn’t really believed it. At least we brought umbrellas, but little good they did us, because we were already soaked before we could even get them out. Meanwhile, we were getting splashed by passing cars as we walked along a busy avenue. We watched water shooting off of the turrets of the Castel Nuovo like a waterfall. We must have looked quite the sight, and Amy started laughing uncontrollably and proclaiming this her favorite day in Italy yet. Oh, how she loves a misadventure, which seem to befall her more than most! Five minutes later, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the sun even came out. But it would take several more hours for us to dry out.

By this time, Google Maps said we had arrived at the ferry terminal, which was a rather big industrial-looking lot off a busy street with no clear signage. As we tried to figure out where to go, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by a large group of Hells Angels, apparently from all over central Europe according to their leather jackets, also wandering about looking like they didn’t know where to go. Since these guys don’t go anywhere without their bikes, we assumed they were all taking a ferry somewhere, and that their bikes were already on board. But where? The islands of Sardinia and Corsica several hours to the west seemed like the only possible destination big enough for these motorheads. We were a bit relieved that we were heading somewhere else!

The port area of Naples is vast and not particularly user friendly, and it took us another frustrating hour for us to locate the specific terminal for the small passenger ferries to Sorrento and nearby islands. By the time we finally did, our boat was due to depart in about 45 minutes. But we still had to go fetch our luggage! Marty & I raced back to the waterfront boulevard to catch the next bus in taht direction, which arrived a few minutes later. One problem: traffic was at an absolute standstill. After five minutes aboard the crowded bus, which had only moved maybe a hundred feet, we got off and tried to call a taxi. But no taxi could get to us in this traffic nor go any faster than the bus. It was now obvious that we were definitely not going to catch that ferry, which was the last one of the day. I told Amy to hop on it anyway. And with my cell phone battery almost dead, I tried to figure out some other way to get to Sorrento while Marty and I speed-walked the two miles back to the hotel where our luggage was stored.

Did I already mention how much stuff we’ve been lugging around? Now imagine Marty and I carrying the luggage for all five of us over cobblestone streets and across plazas, trying to figure out where to catch a bus or train to Sorrento. For once, Google Maps was not much help. It took almost an hour and some help from the train station info desk, but we did eventually find it, in the most unexpected place—a tiny, dim regional rail station hidden underneath the main station. We must have looked quite the sight, the two of us hauling all that luggage in batches down a narrow staircase and piling it up on the platform. As a crowd of other riders gathered, we wondered how the heck we were going to get it all aboard one of the shabby, graffiti-covered local trains, which are designed more for commuters than prodigious amounts of luggage. But we eventually did it, and as I stood on board the crowded, noisy train for the next 75 minutes, acting as a human barrier to keep our luggage from rolling around, trying to recharge my phone off my laptop, needing to pee the whole time, and still slowly drying out from the downpour earlier, I wondered what Amy, Griffin and Cathy were doing. Drinking wine on the balcony of our Airbnb, it turns out, enjoying the sunset over the Mediterranean. Uh huh. But anybody who knows Amy and I well probably wouldn’t be too surprised by that. 😉

Sorrento

Even if you know nothing about Italy, chances are you know the name “Sorrento”. It’s been a desirable spot for people to live since at least a few hundred years before the Romans showed up and built the town of Surrentum here. Today, it’s justifiably famous as one of the most picturesque yet accessible coastal towns in Italy. Notice I didn’t say “beach towns”, because Sorrento has almost no natural beaches. Its most distinctive feature is its perch on a shelf high above a rocky shore, surrounded by mountains and deep gorges, all of which made it pretty inaccessible in antiquity—which was a good thing back then. The town is actually named for the mythical bird-like sirens mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey that would lure sailors to their deaths along the rocky shore with their song. (We didn’t find any.)

Nobody in their right mind would build a port town in such a vertical place like this today (except maybe the Rondans), but the Sorrentinis were determined. Over a couple of millennia, they carved tunnels and switchback roads out of the solid rock down to the water, then used that stone to shore up holes in the cliffs and build myriad terraces and staircases. Today, it’s hard to distinguish between the natural cliffs and the manmade walls that support the buildings perched along the top. Ever seen the ruins of a Roman villa built right into a cliff face? Or a manmade cavern used as a car park or a convenience store? Sorrento has ’em. There’s even a public elevator built into the rock, descending from a park up in the town to a tunnel by the water’s edge. Meanwhile, the unwelcoming shore has been turned into some man-made beaches, protected by a rock breakwater, and a bustling ferry port and marina. It’s all pretty crazy and spectacular, a testament to human perseverance.

As is the route to get here. That regional rail line I rode there is a feat of engineering, passing through a half-dozen tunnels bored through mountains and over some crazy bridges in between. (Imagine building a railway along the Big Sur coast, and you’ll have a pretty good idea.) At Sorrento, the line abruptly stops, because trying to go any further would just be sorta nuts.

So this makes Sorrento the low-hanging fruit, relatively easy to get to but still remote. Constrained by its geography, the town remains small enough to be quaint. One wide Roman street and a few parallel alleys, all thankfully closed to traffic, make up the adorable old town, lined with cafés, gelato stands, boutique hotels, souvenir shops, and old churches. Beyond that, the town grew in about the only direction it could—to the east across a gorge, where there is now a bustling square and an extension of the main shopping street, some larger and more luxurious (but still cozy) hotels, the train station, and a few multi-story condos. Incongruously, mixed in amongst all this are some walled lemon orchards, which produce the beverage that Sorrento is synonymous with: limoncello.

Our flat was in one of those condo buildings, next to one of those lemon orchards, high enough to enjoy a small view over the Med towards Naples and Mt. Vesuvius. It was a bit cramped for the five of us, since we hadn’t planned on having Amy’s parents with us at this point and couldn’t find anything larger on short notice, so they were crashing on the sofa bed. But we loved that there was a small, modern espresso bar on the ground floor, where we enjoyed cappuccinos and cornettos (croissants) every morning, and that the train station was but a two minute walk. What we didn’t love: that our end of town was most decidedly not closed to traffic, and we were directly above the congested main route into town, so the incessant sound of traffic, particularly those wonderful Italian motorcycles, seemed to funnel into our apartment. Sigh.

But there wasn’t much else I could complain about, except possibly that Sorrento is anything but a well-kept secret. Even if it seemed a tad bit overrun during the day (probably when the tour buses were there), in the evenings there was a general sense of joviality as everyone emptied out into the streets to dine, drink, frolic, and laugh, because nobody comes to Sorrento to have a bad time. And since it was mid-June and wasn’t getting dark until well past 9pm, that added an intoxicating sort of endless summer feeling. Even this introvert wasn’t immune to it!

Overall, we really enjoyed our six days in Sorrento. The town is very cute, and we appreciated the efforts that have been made to keep it that way. But it also doesn’t lack for amenities or good food (and it was the last place we visited in Italy where vegan options were easy to find). We spent much of our time there simply exploring the town, perusing the little shops, and eating well. But Sorrento is also a great jumping-off point for plenty of adventures in the area. And if you’re looking for a more posh or romantic getaway, Sorrento has you covered there too, with dozens of adorable, upscale hotels both in town and tucked in the hills around it. Or you might consider one of the adjacent towns or even islands (like Ischia) for a less touristy, more authentic experience. You can’t lose. Visit if you can, ideally in May or September when it’s less hot and crowded.

Here were a few highlights of our stay there:

Touring a farm & making pizza

One thing we haven’t been very good about on this trip is connecting with locals and experiencing something beyond sightseeing and stereotypical tourist activities. So in Sorrento, we set about trying to fix that by booking a “Gastronomic tour & traditional lunch on a Sorrento farm” I found through Airbnb. It turned out to be one of the greatest delights of our trip so far, and Francesco the farmer was quite possibly the sweetest, warmest and most cheerful Italian we met in our entire month there.

Sorrento may be constrained to a small coastal shelf, but that doesn’t mean the hills around it are barren; quite the contrary. They’re chock-full of farms and homes, and even a few small villages, most of which enjoy even more spectacular views than the town. We got to see many of these on the winding drive up to Francesco & Rosalia’s farm after they picked us up in the center of town. (Many people pay private drivers to take them on such scenic drives through the hills; for us, it was a free bonus.) But farming up here ain’t easy; the unpaved driveway down to the farm is so vertical that it was almost frightening, and the farm itself clings to a pretty steep hillside, much of which is still densely forested. In fact, it seems sort of extraordinary that they’ve been able to transform any of it into orchards and vineyards as they have. And the farm seems so small that it’s unclear how they made a living off of it—though I guess it doubles as a small, rustic B&B and farm-to-table restaurant, along with hosting tours like ours. It’s a humble, unkempt, but quaint little operation, impressive more for its location, diversity, and natural beauty than its efficiency or discipline. After we snapped some pictures of the view, he led us through a small, weedy vineyard and showed us the old equipment they used to use to make their own wine, some of which was laying around and slowly rusting. Then we did the same in a small olive orchard. He showed us the lemon and orange trees that they used to create their own limoncello, as well as myriad other plants cultivated in a seemingly random sort of arrangement. We especially enjoyed nibbling on some bitter cherries that grew along the driveway.

We met Francesco’s small cow, his tortoises, his cat, and his adorable black pot-belly pig, Peppa, who wandered around the property, wagged his tail vigorously, and would flop over in front of you so you could rub his belly. By this point, we were at Francesco & Rosalia’s house, which wasn’t fancy but was probably worth a small fortune simply for its coastal views. Behind this, they had built a couple of nice grassy terraces, one with a covered dining area; on the other, a birthday party seemed to be about to happen, perhaps for their pre-teen daughter? Whatever the occasion, there were plenty of kids running around, which actually seemed to add to the ambience, a feeling that we were getting an unfiltered experience of a typical summer Saturday on the farm. How delightful.

At this point, our group—two young British couples, along with me, Amy, Cathy, and Griffin, whom Amy had gotten special permission to bring along—converged with another small tour group that suddenly appeared, comprised of a retired British man and his two grown sons. (We were starting to figure out that Sorrento was primarily a hangout for vacationing Brits.) They had their own tour guide, who seemed quite the opposite of Francesco; while Francesco was short, smiley, and quite casual in his tennis shoes & fedora, this other guy was tall, dressed like a businessman in a shirt & tie (and apron), exhibited a strangely formal demeanor, and spoke in such heavily accented English that it was almost comical—reminding me strongly of an Italian Borat. With our new larger group, we spent the next hour on the patio of the house learning how to make mozzarella from scratch and by hand, then mixing and kneading our own pizza dough, and finally assembling and cooking our own margherita pizzas in the wood-fired pizza oven built by Francesco. (Even Griffin got to build his own, which was more like a focaccia since he doesn’t like sauce or cheese!) As we were surrounded by Brits, there was plenty of joking and laughter during the process. As we each pulled our pizzas out of the oven, we moved to the covered dining area to devour our creations, along with wine, limoncello, and even some meloncello (a delicious creamy concoction made from cantaloupes) that Francesco said was all made on the farm. It was a thoroughly relaxed and enjoyable affair, and we spent quite a bit of time chatting with two couples we were with, exchanging stories about our lives and travels. Stuffed with fresh pizza and slightly drunk, we reveled in a day that seemed like it might go on forever…but alas, Francesco did finally return us to Sorrento, while we tried to figure out how we might get invited back again!

Walking to Piano di Sorrento

After resting back at the apartment, we were ready for an evening adventure, so I led us on one of my impromptu self-guided walking tours, heading east towards a small adjacent town, Piano di Sorrento. There are actually a half dozen towns on that stretch of coast, all close to Sorrento but none quite so famous, with plenty of upscale homes and a few upscale hotels in between where the topography allows. Unfortunately, there aren’t many ways to get between the towns except to walk along the main road, which was rather unpleasant, as there was little or no sidewalk, and we had to deal with the noise and fumes of all the motorbikes and other traffic racing past us. (Ah, Italian infrastructure.) We’d finally had enough and turned down a narrow side street, hemmed in with high stone walls, and tried to find our way towards the sea. After a while, we emerged on a cliff with a public lookout area and a restaurant where we were treated to some gorgeous views back towards Sorrento. It might have been a good place to enjoy a spritz, except…we discovered a ramp that ran under the restaurant, which turned into some stairs, and then a cave, carved out of the rock who knows how many centuries ago. We followed this sloping tunnel down until it popped out at a small beach (Spiaggia La Marinella) at the base of the cliffs. It all felt a little Goonies-esque, except that the cave was not hidden at all—it was apparently the publicly maintained route down to the public beach! How bizarre. The beach was deserted except for a few local kids taking a dip, which was refreshing after the crowds in Sorrento. The water was a gorgeous aquamarine color, and warmer than you would think (we’re so used to the Pacific!). Amy and Griffin dangling their feet in, and we lingered in this wonderful little nook for a good half hour.

We retraced our steps back to the top and resumed our walking tour, threading our way along lanes that got progressively narrower and over a precariously bridge strung over a gorge, again with little or no sidewalk. I could tell that Amy and her parents were getting a little nervous, and it was starting to get dark. But just then, we arrived at my destination—the mesa above Piano di Sorrento’s small marina and beach. There was a large public lookout area here as well, backed by a handful of small restaurants and shops, where a few people were admiring the last rays of sunset. But my actual destination was a park adjacent, a surprisingly large and well-landscaped cliff-top garden lined with palms and olive trees, which was apparently once the grounds of a mansion (the Villa Fondi de Sangro), built in 1840 by a prince. The park was virtually empty, and we explored it as the sunlight faded, including some 2,000 year-old Roman stunning mosaics from a nearby villa that had been reconstructed there. The whole scene was rather glorious, and we marveled that this serene spot was so deserted while Sorrento, less than two miles away, was so packed. Should we have stayed here instead? Maybe next time. But by then, it was quite late and we were all tired, so an obliging shopkeeper called a taxi to take us back home.

Lounging at the beach club

The next day was a hot, sunny Sunday, and Marty was determined to head to the famously picturesque town of Positano, on the south side of the peninsula. It’s actually just one of a dozen ridiculously gorgeous towns clinging to the hillsides of a rugged stretch of coastline known as the Amalfi Coast, which is even less practical for human habitation than Sorrento’s perch. The train line that had been heroically cut through the mountains to reach Sorrento doesn’t dare go there, which means the only way is by boat, a winding two-lane road, or a series of trails. It was too hot and too far to safely hike. We decided to take Rick Steve’s advice and hire a private taxi, but we quickly learned that it’s €100 for the 10 mile trip—each way. No thanks. The municipal bus is another, vastly cheaper option, but it’s crowded and stuffy, and we likely would have been standing in line with a hundred other people for a long time, then standing on the bus for the hour-long trip, which sounded sorta awful. Lesson learned: the ferry is almost certainly the best way to get around this peninsula!

After that fell apart, Amy was adamant that it should be a lazy beach day. I mentioned that Sorrento’s beaches are man-made. But this is apparently not a public improvement by the town of Sorrento. The small bit of shoreline has been developed by a series of beach clubs, each with their own restaurant and bar. These clubs set out neat rows beach chairs and umbrellas (each club has their own color) across their section of beach, and most also have long docks built solely to provide space for yet more chairs and umbrellas. Some also have rows of colorful little changing booths. Anybody is welcome, as long as you rent at least a beach chair, which cost around €25–30 for the day. But unless you want to get burnt to a crisp, you’ll need to get an umbrella too…and while you’re at it, might as well pay for a changing booth, if only for a place to keep all your stuff. Of course, once you’ve invested in all that, you’re going to want to stay as long as possible, so you end up buying lunch, drinks, ice cream, and other refreshments, and the staff even come around and tempt you with other goodies, like fresh-made doughnuts—and no, those aren’t free either. About the only thing that is free is the music that some clubs blast across the beach. I’ll admit, it’s a pretty scene, with the all those rows of matching umbrellas, and a fun vibe, sort of like getting into an exclusive rooftop bar. It’s an ingenious bit of capitalism built around a natural resource. And while I was offended by it, Amy was perfectly happy to indulge, so the whole family headed down to the furthest and least-crowded club, Bagni Salvatore. After lunch there, Marty and I wandered off to do other things, but Amy, Cathy and Griffin stayed for a good six hours, playing in the water, laying in the sun, watching the people, enjoying the scene…and eating chips, ice cream, and doughnuts. They had a blast, and honestly, I’d say they got their money’s worth!

Pompeii

With Vesuvius this close, we couldn’t pass up a day trip to Pompeii, that famously unlucky city that was buried and destroyed by the erupting volcano in 79 AD. So that’s where Amy, Marty, Griffin and I headed on our second-to-last day in Sorrento, a relatively short (and very inexpensive) train ride away. While you’re welcome to wander the site on your own, it’s best experienced on a guided tour, so I had signed up for one led by a trained archaeologist, offered through Airbnb.

Pompeii is a staggering site, both for its size and the details that have been preserved. While some may claim that the 150 or so acres here are the world’s largest archaeological site, that seems dubious, but it almost certainly the the most complete urban excavation ever undertaken and does hold the Guinness record for longest continually excavated site, with work going on pretty much continually for 270 years. What’s unique about Pompeii is that it was not obliterated by lava flows, but rather covered and encased by several meters of ash. Anybody who had not already been killed by the tsunamis or earthquakes, chunks of pumice raining down like hailstones, or superheated clouds of gas and dust that exploded out of the volcano would have been buried alive and asphyxiated by this hot ash. According to our guide, rain a few days after the eruption turned this ash into concrete, which protected the remains of the city and famously preserved impressions of the bodies of unlucky residents caught in it. Disturbing casts of these victims, made by early archaeologists by pouring plaster into the cavities, are sometimes so detailed that their dying expressions and clothing can be made out. There’s even a couple locked in an embrace (originally thought to be two women but recently revealed to be two young men). We got to see a few of these casts first hand, and it was definitely eerie to comprehend that these were casts of real people, caught in a moment of intense suffering—with their skeletons encased in the plaster.

It was hot, of course, and Pompeii has virtually no shade, but we still spent several hours wandering around and wondering at the excavated city, both during our tour and after. The place is so vast that you can literally get lost in it, even though it follows a typical Roman grid street plan. Of course, we visited the forum, the theater, the baths, the amphitheater (which could hold 20,000 people), and various villas. We learned how masons of that period had developed stone-laying patterns to resist earthquakes, how all but the richest folks went out to eat for most meals (Roman fast food!), and how the residents of Pompeii avoided soiling themselves in the muck of the streets. Our guide pointed out examples of early Roman political propaganda, perhaps the earliest “beware of dog” sign, and curiously crude advertisements for brothels. And though we skipped the actual brothel, the Lupanar, which always has a crowd clamoring to see the erotic art and graffiti preserved on its walls, we did get to see a larger curated collection of erotic art from Pompeii and the surrounding area near the amphitheater. And examples of the sort of artifacts found on site, including charred loaves of bread still in the ovens.

Like all archaeological sites, Pompeii is a fascinating place, but it was still hard for us to to imagine life there and especially what it could have possibly been like to experience that eruption. That’s why I was glad that the night before, I had re-watched the 2014 film Pompeii. Starring a ripped Kit Harrington from Game of Thrones , along with Kiefer Sutherland and Carrie-Ann Moss, the film got panned for its relatively unoriginal plot, but was was applauded for its vivid and accurate recreation of both the cataclysmic eruption and the city itself. Of course, it did take some liberties; the tsunami was surely exaggerated, and our guide said that contrary to the film and popular belief, most of the 12,000 residents of the city did escape well before the lethal eruption, forewarned by earthquakes. No matter. I love historical fiction and enjoyed the film, and watching it enabled me to ask and answer a few questions during our tour that made me seem perhaps a little smarter than I actually am. 😉 And while Griffin was mesmerized by the eruption scenes, it made him understandably a little freaked out about hanging out so close to the volcano!