When you are as thin as the air you are trying desperately to breathe ascending Mount Vesuvius, there might be a moment in which you panic and envision yourself all too clearly plopping down off the edge into the abyss on either side of the narrow track upon which you stand. Just such a moment happened to me one fine mine May day, when during a visit to southern Italy, my best friend and I decided to climb the famous peak.
“Keshia, if I faint into the abyss how long do you think I will have before I die?” I asked her, without a trace of sarcasm. “Stop scaring me, just focus on slow deep breathes before you give me a panic attack too!” she roared back at me like a lioness, even though I was less than a foot from her. We both gripped our hiking canes like lifelines flung to drowning men in the Arctic Ocean as we finally neared the farthest point to which we were allowed to hike after 40 minutes of toil, yet even at this height we seemed to be the only ones concerned about running out of oxygen. A Lhasa Apsa bounced merrily by us, and we looked at each other without speaking but thinking concurrently: if a tiny dog can climb this mountain without having a heart or panic attack, so can we! However, even after reaching the peak, our troubles had just begun.
We were all too pleased to stand for a few moments and glorify in our triumph, before I pointedly whispered, “I don’t know if I’m breathing and I don’t want to use up my oxygen supply talking so let’s go down now in silence.” Keshia gave me a look that signified, “you are acting like a madwoman but I’m kind of scared too so okay we can go,” and back down over the pebbly path we trotted. The only thing harder than climbing Mount Vesuvius is apparently- descending it. Our pace was rather rapid, as I was more and more convinced I was near fainting over the edge, until we reached our gravest danger yet, one we could only overcome by combing our wills together…a souvenir stand with jewelry. And what 21 year old girl could resist such a thing when in a state of dissonance? Not Keshia, not I…
Both of us looked at everything as though we were scientists studying the molten layers of the volcano, poring over each ring, magnet, postcard and shirt, unable to decide what to buy, for whom to buy it, and how many to buy. Not only are we both indecisive normally, but couple indecisiveness with our oxygen deprived state, and we did not know what we were doing anymore than does a drunken puppy lying in a carton of doggy bones. Incoherent half-formed sentences and endless successive try-ons lasted over 20 minutes; before it occurred to me, we might be late for our bus back down the mountain.
“Oh god we have to go! We’ll be stranded! Caitlin hurry, pick and pay, pick and pay!” Keshia squealed instantly when I reminded her we might be late. I chose a necklace made of Vesuvius lava, Keshia a bracelet of the same material, and off we rushed, slipping our way down the ledge. I was terribly apprehensive that I’d slide off the side, which I nearly did once, but Keshia reminded me that I also had to be sure not to race because, “I don’t remember why but that can kill you too.”
At last we were safe- down the mountain and the last ones back at our waiting bus, which had originally taken us partly up the mountain and was now to recover us safely to ground level. It was only on the way down in the bus that I, still panting with a feverish excitement, noticed two extra rings of black material on one of my fingers. I had stolen two rings by mistake, and not realized it until I was long gone. I showed Keshia what I had inadvertently taken, but she simply shrugged and said, “Now you can tell people that you nearly had a panic attack and accidentally stole two rings when you climbed Mount Vesuvius. Congratulations
!”
Tags: italy, mount vesuvius, stealing
