Morsels of Tesselated Pavement

A part of history that comes from 79 A.D that I'm shocked isn't discussed nearly as much is the destruction of the little sister to Pompeii, Herculaneum. For those unfamiliar, Herculaneum was a wealthy town that was also destroyed by Mount Vesuvius alongside Pompeii. A major difference was that Herculaneum met its ruinous end by a mudslide which resulted in a difference in the preservation of the buildings and now artifacts.

When I was told about Herculaneum by my professor on my first day of class I felt silly that this place completely flew under my radar for years. All because it was stuck under Pompeii's shadow. Thus Herculaneum became a last-minute research spot for the same reason Pompeii had become one. To further build on the inspiration for an abandoned village with the belief that it's cursed in addition to the climax of the third book taking place here.

More or less, I have the same range of emotions that I felt with Pompeii. Leaving with a stronger sense of understanding of the world I want to put on paper with its horror but also with that heaviness.

Now Herculaneum has a different beauty thanks to its preservation. I could walk in most of the buildings and explore bakeries, houses, and shops. The buildings were absolutely incredible. Because Herculaneum is not as popular as Pompeii, there weren't too many people there which made being there more intimate. Herculaneum being smaller also added to that intimacy. I think the wood preservations in particular were wildly interesting as well as the other artifacts. If I could learn so much on my own, I wonder what I could learn with a guide by my side.

There was a similar weight attached to Herculaneum to the one in Pompeii. The same cloud of dread chased around me as I entered the ruins. It still felt as though those who died there were not resting nor at peace. Some of the beautiful mosaics that I thought would be closed off were open and you had no choice but to step on them when coming into houses. I remember stopping, saying it felt that it was wrong to do step on them, and asking if I was even allowed to do this. When I realized I was technically allowed I apologized for coming in. Despite all of that, I didn't have a moment where I started crying. I believe visiting Pompeii hours before Herculaneum probably resulted in a sort of numb acceptance of what's happened. I truly felt this when I was on my way out of the ruins and saw the bones of the people who sought shelter in the coming disaster. In a way, I'm thankful for Pompeii being a rude awakening for how difficult it was to see the ruins where thousands of people died.

I know if I was a little kid and heard about Herculaneum like I did with Pompeii, I would have loved it the same. Part of me still wishes I had. Then again, maybe it was for the best that I didn't hear about it until I came. I wouldn't want to tamper with the specialness of feeling like I was discovering something for the first time. That I wouldn't have to worry about something or a place meeting expectations. And not only did Herculaneum do what it needed for my trilogy, but it also did more. It solidified an idea that I had less than a week or so before I left the states.

I leave Herculaneum with excitement for the future ahead of me, but also with that uneasy feeling that comes from visiting the tomb of thousands. I'm at peace with it and it feels strange. Until then I can't wait for another chance to return to Pompeii, a city in ash, and her little sister Herculaneum, the city underneath another.