Noisy, Nasty, Napoli!

I'm not sure if I could explain Naples in a way that doesn't make me sound completely out of my mind. To start with--it's got a bad reputation. Bad. Like think twice before going there bad because if you don't,  you'll probably be sorry. Pickpockets are notoriously good in Naples, so purses and cameras are not generally advisable. It's hazmat trashy. And Neapolitans don't give a rip about anyone but themselves.

Naples lived up to its bad reputation in a good way.

Sometime a few weeks back my friend Peter and I decided that a trip to Naples was absolutely necessary. We've established an informal mission to eat all the best food in Italy, and thus Napoli was the obvious place to go for pizza. Whenever one orders a pizza over here, it's usually listed on the menu as a Neapolitan Pizza. To be honest, there aren't many differences between American and Italian pizzas as far as looks go. Taste is an entirely different story. But I digress...

We boarded the express train here in Florence on Friday with great success. After having been warned about not validating the ticket beforehand and thus receiving a hefty fine from a grumpy Italian conductor, I located the magical yellow box on the platform. It's surprising how such a small machine, which stamps even smaller numbers onto an edge of the not very sizable ticket, can have such an large impact on a person's trip. I nervously journaled from my seat intermittently staring out at the countryside thinking. Pleaseohpleaseohplease! Don't let anything bad happen to us.


As we pulled up to the Napoli Centrale station, a huge storm cell settle over the city. Rain streaked the windows and the clouds flickered with lightning strikes. Peter and I exchanged an apprehensive look or two as I wondered what in the world had we gotten ourselves into. We disembarked into the crowded station with me leading the way to our hostel whose vague location I had memorized from the map in my guidebook.  We walked onto the street and discovered the truth in the trashy rumor. It was everywhere: on the sidewalks, in the gutters, overflowing from dumpsters, everywhere. Apparently the sanitation workers go on strike very frequently so it all just piles up. We wound our way between trash heaps and street vendors offering umbrellas to find our hostel in a less-than-picturesque part of the city. Dropping off our bags and orienting ourselves according to our receptionist's map and suggestions, we stepped back out onto the streets in search of the Naples Archeological Museum.

On the way there, we stumbled upon the duomo of Napoli, which was more similar to the cathedrals of Rome than the duomo here in Florence, and artisan's market. Although we were the only visitors wandering through the narrow alleyway we were crowded by the wares sitting on and under tables, hanging from awnings, and encroaching the street. Peppers, figurines, intricate model houses, terra cotta, pizzas and trinkets everywhere screamed rustic Neapolitan artistry. I regret not purchasing anything, but all the more reason to return!

We spent the better part of the evening in the museum looking at ancient statues and artifacts from Pompeii. The floor mosaics were incredible! The patience and craftsmanship that the ancient Pompeiians put into their floor decoration is absolutely unparalleled by anything that could be produced today. I've decided I want to make one . . . eventually. We left the museum for apertivi (pre-dinner drinks) in a funky little bar that was more like a lounge/bookstore/record shop squashed all into one. The atmosphere was super relaxed: friends, couples, families all crowded into the space, drinking, smoking (yes, inside) and having a grand time. It felt so authentic, us being the only Americani there. For dinner, we found our way to one of the pizzerias our receptionist suggested and each ordered a pie for €5. We watched the chef hand-stretch the dough with professional speed and technique learned only through tradition. He threw on the ingredients, slipped them into the wood-burning oven, and boxed them in less than ten minutes. Although they were cool by the time we reached our hostel (we cheated by reheating one in the oven) they were the most delicious pizzas I had ever eaten. American pizza doesn't even hold a candle. I think its the freshness of the dough, the smokiness of the oven, and the simplicity of the ingredients, but I'm no foodie. I just like how it tastes!

Saturday we trekked out to the ruins at Pompeii. I witnessed a true Neapolitan argument as I purchased our tickets. The ticketmaster and a customer had a dispute over change and were yelling at one another through the window until the ticketmaster came out of the office. They were two inches away from one another's faces, bellowing over one another, and flailing hands for emphasis and exasperation. It was terrifying and absolutely wonderful. The charged exchange took place in less than a minute, and yet their shouts still echo vividly in my memory. Forty minutes later we arrived at the legendary ruins in the rain, of course and I put my Disney umbrella to use (Thank you, Louise!).

Pompeii is cool by anyone's standards, but it has a special connotation for me because it was the subject of the first historical exhibition I remember going to as a kid. Although I can barely remember the details of what I observed, seeing the casts of the bodies and the frescoes renewed my juvenile giddiness. I don't have the time or the words to do Pompeii justice, so I'll leave it at a few pictures taken from my Flip camcorder (Thank you, Uncle George) because I didn't want Dad's camera to get stolen. All in all, we spent 5 hours wandering through the city, which is rather funny considering the first two hours were spent without a map or a guide book.

We read Pompei Viva on a number of signs throughout the
ruins, meaning Pompeii Lives, though at times it seemed as
if we were alone in the ancient city. 

Mount Vesuvius lying dormant in the mist.

Almost every villa, big or small, had a garden in it. Because
of the eruption, scientists and archaeologists continually
battle the modern flora that has taken root in the newly-
exposed fertile soil.

Il Fauno, a recreation of the statue for which the villa is named

One of my favorite floor mosaics. It's less detailed than others
we saw, but the colors are more vibrant.

Peter braving the rain with me.

We rode back to the city after getting kicked out of the ruins and struggling to find the correct side of the train tracks. Upon returning, we went for another walk in search of a bar but ended up going to look at a few monuments on the other side of the harbor, which was an hour's walk one-way. We found Castel Nuovo, the impressive Piazza Plebecito, and the Castel dell'Ovo--a castle built on an outcropping of rock in the middle of the harbor whose foundations supposedly contain a magic egg (uovo in Italian and hence the name "of the egg"). We had dinner at a seafood restaurant in the marina at the foot Castel dell'Ovo's walls: fresh mozzarella, pasta with steamed shellfish, calamari, and shrimp. Absolutely delicious!

We left Sunday morning after wandering through the Neapolitan equivalent of a farmer's market. Similar to the artisan's alleyway, goods overflowed into the streets on both sides. In the sharp Italian of Napoli, vendors shouted for customers to buy their wares, punctuating each sentence with "Prego! Prego! Prego!" We were welcome to buy and look, but lingering too long over a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes before moving on garnered us a few exasperated glares. I felt that they couldn't be bothered by us, that we were wasting their time, which is an interesting sales tactic--bullying the customer, that is.

The train ride home was uneventful, as is school. A group of us students went to a cooking class last week, which was super fun. I know what you're thinking, me cooking isn't exactly a reassuring thought, but I successfully made zucchini alle parmigiana; sauteed cabbage rolls stuffed with turkey, prosciutto, and fontina cheese; and tiramisu. I've signed up to take yoga classes once a week at the school in an effort to work off my growing pasta pooch. I plan on making more of an effort to go to the gym as well. Between seeing the sights of Florence, the rest of Europe, not to mention my homework, I'm finding I have so many things to do and so little time! Next stop: Sicily for the weekend!

Arrivaderci!