During my study abroad semester, the program took students on weekend and day trips. On the way back from the Amalfi Coast one weekend, we stopped in Pompeii. Ever since I learned about Mt. Vesuvius in elementary school, I wanted to visit Pompeii. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I finally stepped off the bus and looked at the city I knew so much about but had never dreamed of visiting. I pinched myself a few times as I gazed over my shoulder and saw the volcano that had covered the town with its lava and ash all those many years ago. Walking by the vendors that seemed to be at every historical site we visited, we met up with our tour guides and stepped past the gates into the city of the past. There was so much to take in. One thing that really impressed me were the huge grooves in the roads from the chariots. Not only was I surprised they were still there, I couldn’t believe the chariots had been heavy enough to make impressions in the stone. As we moved through the city, stepping into buildings and discussing focal points, we stopped in front of a building. To my friends and me, it looked the same as the ones we had already seen, but the look on our tour guide’s face suggested this one was special. In his thick Italian accent, he told us we were standing in front of the Romance House. We all looked around with a puzzled look — Romance House? Was he talking about a brothel? We entered, and our wildest thoughts were confirmed. Painted on the walls were images demonstrating things available for the men of ancient Pompeii to purchase. I’m not sure what was more surprising — the images or the fact they were still completely intact. We made our way through, then back out to the streets. The tour guide anticipated the immaturity of a group of college students and asked us if we now understood the meaning of a Romance House. The tour took on a lighter note as we visited the rest of the city. Later, as we pulled away, stealing one last glance at Pompeii, I thought back to my second-grade self. The little girl inside of me was excited now that she had finally been to Pompeii. — Mary Carpenter, intern