The Romans seemed to have got town dwelling down to a T here at Herculaneum. Running water, under road waste sewage, pavements, shops, pubs, theatre, gymnaseum, sports field and posh villas with mosaic floors and elaborate wall frescoes. The residents must have thought they’d got it made. Until . . .
Twenty-four stops and eighty minutes later we step down from the Circumvesuvian line. Like a rush hour crush on the London Underground, but with more to view. Everyone drawn to that fateful place like Eloi.
Seems the Roman psyche hasn’t changed much over a couple of millenia. Herculaneum folk were not fond of eating lunch at home. They set up special food and bar-like establishments around the various town districts. Trend setters for twenty-first century Italians. Their legacy lingers. One street feels familiar. A row of shops with flats above.
This, one of the posher places. The main living area with matching columns and decorated walls. Dulux matchmaker system not an option. Lavish living at its best.
