![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For good pictures of Pompeii, google. Online has more and better quality than what I could take, especially as this was "dead battery" day and I was swapping batteries about every three shots.
We had about a 2.5 hour tour; shorter than most and covering only the highlights, but quite enough in the hot sun, frankly. And we had the most fantastic tour guide, who linked up with us again at the Archaeological Museum of Naples. She was everything our regular guide was not - informative, colloquial, and bubbling over with charisma.
They outfitted us with "whispers" - little radios with earpieces so that she could talk to us in a normal tone of voice, while we could still hear us even if we wandered from the pack a bit.
( 7 Pictures and a description of Pompeii Porn )
There was another bride in Naples, getting her pictures taken in the middle of the street (!) with a fountain as backdrop, and with a flower girl who was more elaborately bride-like than the bride! The photographers came over for more pictures to the corner where my tour was gathering after lunch, and we all started applauding the happy couple. (One of our guys also darted in for a picture; he seemed to be making a goal of getting into as many wedding pictures as he could.) The photographer mimed us clapping over our heads, so we did, and he got a shot of the groom spinning the bride in a circle as we all cheered and applauded.
A side note to end... I had been doing the American Capitalist Pig-Dog packing style, which meant basically that I was throwing things out as I went along. The first thing I tried to toss was the T-shirt that I traveled in. My mother told me to fold it neatly over the trash can so the maids could take it if they wanted. The maids put it neatly back on top of the emptied trash. The next day, they put it neatly on a chair. (The third day I wrapped my empty lemoncello bottle in it, gave up, and brought it home.) Then my mother fell in love with a Deva circle skirt. (The cotton had wrinkled badly in the suitcase, but I wetted it down and dried it on the terrace - you can't take me anywhere - and it snapped back into place beautifully.) I had expected her to loathe it on sight - it hadn't come out of the goodwill box, it had come out of my "only wear at home" drawer on account of my spilling bleach on it. But I figured I could sharpie out the marks for a couple of days and then toss it with a clean conscience. Even when I told Mother (repeatedly) about the sharpie, she hated to see me toss that skirt. This time, wrapped up in a plastic bag to make sure that it went.
I may split up the Rome review into the parts they took us on tour and the parts I did alone.
We had about a 2.5 hour tour; shorter than most and covering only the highlights, but quite enough in the hot sun, frankly. And we had the most fantastic tour guide, who linked up with us again at the Archaeological Museum of Naples. She was everything our regular guide was not - informative, colloquial, and bubbling over with charisma.
They outfitted us with "whispers" - little radios with earpieces so that she could talk to us in a normal tone of voice, while we could still hear us even if we wandered from the pack a bit.
( 7 Pictures and a description of Pompeii Porn )
There was another bride in Naples, getting her pictures taken in the middle of the street (!) with a fountain as backdrop, and with a flower girl who was more elaborately bride-like than the bride! The photographers came over for more pictures to the corner where my tour was gathering after lunch, and we all started applauding the happy couple. (One of our guys also darted in for a picture; he seemed to be making a goal of getting into as many wedding pictures as he could.) The photographer mimed us clapping over our heads, so we did, and he got a shot of the groom spinning the bride in a circle as we all cheered and applauded.
A side note to end... I had been doing the American Capitalist Pig-Dog packing style, which meant basically that I was throwing things out as I went along. The first thing I tried to toss was the T-shirt that I traveled in. My mother told me to fold it neatly over the trash can so the maids could take it if they wanted. The maids put it neatly back on top of the emptied trash. The next day, they put it neatly on a chair. (The third day I wrapped my empty lemoncello bottle in it, gave up, and brought it home.) Then my mother fell in love with a Deva circle skirt. (The cotton had wrinkled badly in the suitcase, but I wetted it down and dried it on the terrace - you can't take me anywhere - and it snapped back into place beautifully.) I had expected her to loathe it on sight - it hadn't come out of the goodwill box, it had come out of my "only wear at home" drawer on account of my spilling bleach on it. But I figured I could sharpie out the marks for a couple of days and then toss it with a clean conscience. Even when I told Mother (repeatedly) about the sharpie, she hated to see me toss that skirt. This time, wrapped up in a plastic bag to make sure that it went.
I may split up the Rome review into the parts they took us on tour and the parts I did alone.
