Any way the wind blows; doesn't really matter to me

Sunday we left Rome to drive down to Vietri Sul Mare, where we're staying now. It was a long drive, and we stopped for a rest break at a Cameo factory, which was sold to us as a special excursion, when in reality it is obviously a deal between the factory and the tour company to make money off of us, but I digress. Gary, our tour guide, gave us really interesting information on the history of Rome as we drove, but when we crossed into Naples, which is sadly run down, he gave us a lesson about the mafia. Apparently Southern Italy is run by the mob. Organized crime controls everything, and any politician who tries to drive them out ends up murdered. This has been stifling the economy, as no industry wants to move to the South and have to deal with the payoffs, etc., so there's a high level of unemployment. There was a huge problem with garbage a few years ago, and the Italian government had to have the army bring in garbage trucks to take care of the problem.

The Neapolitans are not so concerned with another looming threat either: Vesuvius. Vesuvius last blew in the 40s, destroying the funicular this song is about. It is estimated tht it will blow again around 2020. You would think some disaster planning would be prudent, but apparently they're lassiez-faire about the whole thing, and instead have a cliche that is "When Vesuvius goes..." meaning, when Vesuvius blows up, you will do all those horrible things you couldn't before, such as strangling your annoying children, etc. Gary told us they live very much day to day, their mindsets never too forward thinking, because who knows when you will be choked on volcanic gasses and die. It depends on which way the wind blows.

Past Naples we drove through the mountains. I am not afraid of heights, but this scared the hell out of me. Lizzie is afraid of heights, and was a big brave dog through the whole thing. Victorio, our driver, is a genius, and manuevered us through the terrifying cliffs on the windy road like it weren't no thing, the passengers making nervous little jokes the whole time to keep them from crying, I guess. We ended up in Ravello, a gorgeous little town on the cliffs, which had adorable stores, and kitties everywhere, which were obviously well loved. We drank our poison water, and explored a nearby villa, and then rode the rest of the way to Vietri Sul Mare. Our hotel room is so gorgeous, and has a patio overlooking the Mediterranean. If I hadn't spent the day puking my guts out, there would've been some beach time, but alas, at least we can see it.

Dinner was included yesterday, and we ate with our group, having the great fortune of sitting next to his hilarious couple, with whom we drank the red wine I suspected (falsely, sorry) of making me ill. The man, Stew, is a teacher, and talks about his students in the way, Lizzie noted, we expected that our teachers talked about us. My favorite was the story of how the teachers tape pictures of the children to targets at a shooting range, and relieve stress that way. Nice.

It should be noted that before dinner, we saw a mo-mullet. A mo-mullet is a mowhawk mullet combination, which defys any logic imaginable.