If Someone Tells You, "It's Not the Destination, It's the Journey", They're Wrong

So, this was probably the worst day of the entire trip in my opinion, because we had to go from Florence to Rome to Naples to Pompeii. Man, was it poop. It wasn't that the trains themselves were bad, even though, yes, they were dirty. It's just the act of traveling all day and not being able to enjoy a view while being in it or consume a quality meal or walk around much just stunk. However, I did up my solitaire game, so that's something.

The best and scariest part was getting from Naples to Pompeii. First of all, we bought tickets for a bus from the main Naples train station to the city center in order to get to a different station that could take us to Pompeii. The bus was a little difficult to find, especially because it took so long to find anyone who spoke English. I had been to Naples before, (we had to drive through it to get to Pompeii on the cruise), but it was nothing like how I remembered it to be. The best way I can think to put it, is how Sara first reacted to it, "Did we just drive into a third world country?" It was extremely dirty, there was garbage everywhere. All over the sides of the road, on buildings, it was as if the place was one big garbage bin. When we finally arrived at our next train station, it was completely empty except for one homeless woman shaking and mumbling in Italian. When we boarded the train, there was absolutely no one on it, nor did it move right away. Needless to say, we thought we were going to die.

It did, however, take off, and put us fifteen minutes of walking from our camp ground. That's right, camp ground. We were going to be staying at Camping Zeus for three nights. We made the hike while the sun was setting, and though we were tired and starved, we made it to the room safely. Then, it was time to hunt for food. We really wanted something cheap, but not a lot was open at eight at night (Europe is so weird. Everything opens late and closes early.) However, as we were going around looking for a restaurant, all of a sudden a waiter motions to us from across the street, using gestures to ask us if we wanted to eat there. We nodded furiously and let him know we were trying to cross the road (which was busy for some reason). This caused him to yell at a friend and then they both walked into the street and stopped traffic to let us cross. We were pretty impressed. I enjoyed a nice pasta with some red wine, then we all climbed the hill and, after a long day of nothing, passed out.