Berkley Center

In 79 CE, the Roman city of Pompeii was buried in volcanic ash. Thousands died with looks of terror frozen on their faces. Writer Pliny the Younger survived the blast from a distance and recorded the volcanic carnage in such detail that eruptions like Mount Vesuvius’ now bear his name.

In 1748, excavation began and workers gradually uncovered everything from lavishly frescoed vacation villas to shockingly graphic artwork to a preserved Roman amphitheater. Particularly stunning were the plaster casts made by filling the empty space in the ash where bodies had decomposed.

Now, in 2016, tourists pay 12 euro to push through a creaky turnstile, jog up a dusty hill, and find themselves in the central square of a once-buried city. Vesuvius looms in the distance: moody and shrouded in mist, stone-still but occasionally shimmering with the threat of an unimaginable quake. Although it hasn’t fully erupted since 1944, it is the only active volcano in mainland Europe and presents a significant threat to the area around Naples in southwestern Italy.

The main square of Pompeii is full of gigantic and disarming statues. A fractured green angel lies on its side, and a few faces, cut in half, stand on their own across the street. More artwork appears as you walk through the ruins, with sculptures peering out from doorways and carefully placed vases lining the walls of an ancient warehouse. A courtyard, framed by the rectangular base of a dried-up fountain, provides a serene respite in a bizarrely bustling city.

Down the hill, but still within city limits, is a villa full of frescoed red walls. The Villa of Mysteries provides a rare glimpse into the art of ancient Rome (thanks again to the strangely preservative power of volcanic ash). One particularly famous fresco supposedly shows a woman’s initiation into the mysterious cult of Dionysus, a source of controversy that shrouds discussions about Pompeii’s culture.

The city is famous for this kind of unsavory art, ranging from pagan symbolism to graphic eroticism. The walls of brothels and baths were dotted with explicit images, and phallic symbols were never out of place on city walls. Still, Pompeii and nearby Herculaneum are considered excellent examples of the artistic aspects of Roman culture that have otherwise been widely lost.

Today, the stony walls and uneven streets of Pompeii are both tranquil and profoundly unsettling, and a ghostly sense of the past pervades everything from the cramped inner rooms of houses to the open-air theater. The city itself feels like a strange work of art—a place where you can easily lose yourself in spite of being able to see all the way down the endless streets. And at every turn, Vesuvius is there: pensive and blue, glowering down or standing guard.

On Easter morning, my group of Amalfi Coast travelers decided to go to a Catholic Mass together regardless of our varied religious backgrounds (or lack thereof). A priest led us through an Italian sermon about the positive value of resurrection in a modern context, and as we streamed out of the church into the Sorrento afternoon the sky did seem impossibly blue. “What would you do,” he had asked in the service, “if today the dead of the world arose and walked among us again?” And as Vesuvius swam into view across the bay, I couldn’t help but think of Pompeii—of that enormous, beautiful graveyard where people come from around the world to gawk at the ruins of a sprawling empire and, smiling, defy the powerful and ever-visible force of nature that stands ready to smite them at a moment’s notice.