Neapolitan

The driver took us from the vineyard towards our next stop.  We were going to Naples, or Napoli as the Italians would call it.  Napoli sounds better.  There is a lyrical quality to the world that is completely missing in the English.  Why is there even an English version for this name?  Is it that difficult to say Napoli?  As we left the highway and entered the city, the feeling completely changed.  We had been enjoying a very relaxed and laid back lifestyle in the Amalfi coast.  Everything was slower and we had followed this up with a gentle drive through Roman ruins and vineyards.  What we were now in the middle of was far from gentle.  The roads and streets in Napoli were a crush of business and noise.  Cars moved slowly as scooters buzzed past and through constantly.  The sound of horns was incessant and our driver became noticeably more careful and attentive.

We arrived in front of an enormous old palazzo right next to Dante station, inside which was our hotel.  The palazzo had definitely seen better days.  It was run down and covered in graffiti, but all of that seemed to add to the strange charm of the place.  Veronica looked at me a bit concerned, asking me whether I thought this was a safe area.  I had no idea if it was safe or not, but it was definitely convenient.  We went inside the palazzo, found the floor that our hotel was on, and then went out to explore.  It was late afternoon, almost early evening, so we jumped in a cab and went straight to the waterfront.  There, we found a city alive with families.  Groups of people were running up and down the promenade.  Old men stood around smoking and talking.  Children rode bikes around.  People jumped in and out of the water swimming.  There was a strange juxtaposition of the high end cafes and restaurants with the very simple family life activities that were happening, but it all seemed to come together to create a unique scene.

It wasn't far to get back to the city centre so we walked.  In about fifteen minutes, we were back on the famous Via Toledo eating fried pizza.  It was one of the main thoroughfares of the city, but it was jammed with people.  There was a messiness everywhere.  The streets weren't properly swept, there was loose bit of rubbish floating around and the buildings all seemed slightly tattered.  It was very late now and it had been a long day for us.  We walked back to the hotel for some very needed sleep.

When we woke up the next day, we immediately left the hotel to start our exploring.  We had only one full day in Napoli and we wanted to see as much of the place as possible.  We walked straight to Dante metro station.  I had read about a 24 metro ticket which seemed perfect for our needs.  We went to the newspaper store in the station and asked for two of the tickets.  The owner gave us a gruff and terse "NO, they are not 24 hours!" as an immediate response which shocked me.  What shocked me more was how he then pulled out two tickets and proceeded to very helpfully explain in detail how the tickets in actuality were "daily" tickets which ended at midnight.  Neapolitans have a reputation as being rough, but friendly.  This was a very clear example of that.

We went towards the centre of town and the walked back along Via Toledo as we had done the night before.  In the brightness of day, some of the shabbiness and grime wasn't so obvious.  The grand old architecture came to the forefront and you could feel the old magnificence of the buildings.  We continued towards the large and open Piazza del Plebicito.  Our first stop was inside the opulent Gran Caffe Gambrinus.  We sat there for a breakfast of pastries and coffee.  Neither was particularly good, but we were paying for our surroundings.  I was continually shocked by the quality of coffee in Italy.  The modern approach to coffee I knew from Australia and elsewhere had clearly surpassed the old world approach and the adherence to tradition in these circumstances was producing what was ultimately an inferior product.

Outside of the cafe, was the enormous piazza.  I was reminded of St Peter's square in the Vatican.  It wasn't quite as large, but it was certainly felt like it was of a similar scale.  There was a wedding about to happen in the basilica at the far end so we went in to look at the preparations.

There was an old world elegance to everything.  I could understand why so many people in other countries were so easily caught up in all of this.  The idea of this grandeur could be incredibly appealing, and when added to the smart uniforms of those waiting at the front, it seemed to match every childhood idea of what a fairy tale should look like.   

On the other side of the piazza was the old royal palace.

Again, it was enormous and the scale was actually larger than the palaces in Rome, revealing once again the true power and importance that this city once held.  The inside of the place had been converted into hall after hall of galleries containing incredible paintings and sculptures created in Italy over the centuries.  Being in here, I was reminded far more of Versailles of Schonbrunn than some of the other places I had seen in Italy.  

We didn't have a huge amount of time.  Walking through the grand old halls, Veronica's memories were triggered, as she started to recall childhood trips with her family and recollections of this palace started to return.  Walking into one particular hall, decorated largely with a deep red motif, she declared that this was indeed the palace that she remembered visiting when her family had been visiting off of a cruise when she was younger.  After a couple of hours, we moved towards a different part of town.  It was approaching lunch and we were in Naples.  We wanted pizza.  It was a cliched thing to want in this city, but it seemed like a crime to be here and to not indulge in this speciality.  I had read that Da Michele was one of the best places to go.  We arrived outside to see an enormous crowd of people waiting.  We took and a ticket and waited.  After about five minutes, Veronica stood up and walked towards the front.  She looked at the number on the counter and the slow movement of the crowd and then came back to me.  "One hour" she declared.  She was convinced we should go and do something else in the meantime.  I was a bit unsure about leaving the line, but given we were only here for a day, I was happy to go for a wander.

It was now around midday.  The sun was in the middle of the sky and it was hot.  Walking back towards the middle of town, the narrowness of the streets was an unexpected protection from the worst of the heat.  Nestled amongst the high buildings, each of the narrow lanes became a shaded sanctuary and we walked along looking at souvenirs and eating lemon granitas.  At one point on our walk, we saw an old lady running her simple fruit shop.  I grabbed two plump looking peaches and paid her.  For such a small sale, it seemed hardly worth her time and she moved slowly.  But when I asked if I could wash them, she smiled and pointed me inside her shop towards a sink.  Again, I thought about the gruff, yet friendly nature of the Neapolitan people.  Walking along the famous Spaccanapoli, it was a strange contrast of tourism and history.  Every second shop seemed to be selling meaningless trinkets for tourists like us, but there was also an undeniable feeling of the past on the street.  This street apparently followed the old layout of the old Roman town and with the high buildings on either side and the bustling crowds, you could almost feel what it must have been like in ancient times as the locals and visitors alike would have jostled amongst each other.

After an hour, we made our way back to Da Michele.  There was still an enormous throng of people waiting.  I walked closer to the front to look closely at the counter - "17" it read.  Veronica held up the stub to me with the number "22" and a big smile on her face.  Her timing was impeccable and within 5 minutes our number was called and we were taken to our table.  Inside, the restaurant was simple and very clean.  It was an almost sterile feeling with the tiling along the walls, but the prices were also extremely low so I was happy to overlook that.  Looking at the cashier counter, there was a large picture of Julia Roberts eating a pizza.  This was apparently the restaurant featured in the frustratingly whingy movie "Eat, Pray, Love".  I felt my heart sink a little bit.  Was this the true reason for the long wait?  Were we only dealing with other tourists because of an unjustified reputation inflated by one of the more annoying movies of the last twenty years?  We ordered two pizzas and two beers.  Two Peronis, one margherita and one marinara.  The beers arrived quickly and other pizzas arrived at the tables next to us.  The pizzas were enormous.  Each person always seemed to order one pizza for themselves, but how they could ever manage to finish them was a mystery to me.  Within a few minutes, our own pizzas arrived.  They were brought to us directly from the oven we had walked past on the way in and there was still the wafting up of the steam and smoke from the pizzas.  I took my fork and knife to slice out a large piece for myself and took a bite.  Any fears or concerns I may have had immediately evaporated.  The pizzas were delicious.  The sauce on top was as you would expect, with a delicate balance between the sweet, savoury and tangy of the tomatoes.  The cheese on the margherita was creamy and nicely melted.  The seasoning on the marinara, just enough to compliment the tomatoes.  The oil was lighter than I expected, I would later find out that they didn't use olive oil, but instead used soy oil instead of olive oil as a point of difference to highlight the flavours of the other ingredients more.  Unsurprisingly, the star of the pizzas were the crust.  They had a yielding texture that seemed soft to the bite, yet still enough pull that you needed to pull and chew harder to tear out a piece.  As we sat and ate, we found the pizzas quickly disappearing.  The marinara was good, but nothing compared to the margherita.  We concentrated our attention on that, finishing it quickly and leaving only a few scraps of the margherita left.

Now that we were full of pizza, we had to move on to our next stop.  We were tired and sluggish, but we wanted to keep moving to take advantage of the rest of the day.  We had enough time for a few more stops before the sun started to set.  We started walking along Spaccanapoli again.  The crowds were growing as more people started to come out for food and drink now that the sun wasn't as hot.  Winding through the crowds, we reached a church.  However, this wasn't what we wanted to see, we actually wanted to see the famous gardens inside the grounds of the church (or monastery).  The Chiostro di Santa Chiara houses ornate gardens at its centre.  I had seen pictures and videos of it and given its location in the centre of town, it seemed to be a good spot for us to explore as we slowly digested all of our pizza.  The surrounding church and halls are interesting without being overly memorable.  Most of the buildings had apparently been destroyed by bombing during the Second World War and so seemed to lack some of the ornate detail we had seen in other locations.  The garden on the other hand was itself was the opposite of that.  It was the prettiest garden I had seen in a long time, with the walls dividing the manicured grounds decorated with colourful tiles.

Visitors walked up and down the paths admiring the tiles, under the watchful eyes of the guards who stopped and yelled at anyone who went to sit down on the benches.  Looking at some of the chipped tiles, I understood the need the protect these tiles.  With all the warnings and repeated reminders, I was still a bit surprised to see some people chance it for that perfect photo.  Within moments of the attempt, one of the guards would be loudly yelling at them.  In the middle of the garden, there were several orange trees.  They were full of fruit, with some of the oranges have fallen to the ground.  It created a lovely scene, almost idyllic of a secluded little paradise away from the busy of Napoli, calm and full of fruit.

We walked back along Spaccanapoli towards the hotel.  We went in and rested thinking we would stay a moment before going out again for dinner and drinks.  Veronica suggested we should go to the National Archeological Museum.  It was late and we didn't have much time before it closed, but she wisely suspected that I actually wanted to go.  She was of course right.  I did want to go.  This was where the original of the Alexander the Great mosaic was housed and I want to see it.  I happily agreed to her kind suggestion and we took the metro the one stop over to the museum.

The museum is housed inside an enormous and grand old building.  It used to be a barracks and also at one point a university, but now houses some very impressive pieces ranging from ancient times through to more recent Italian history.  I wanted to see the mosaic, so with the little time we had we went straight to the section dedicated to the treasures of Pompeii.  Once we got there.... I encountered a large sheet of canvas.  The entire mosaic was being restored and so there would be no viewing for me.  I was a bit disappointed, but in truth, there were more than enough other historical wonders to look at in awe.  Like with many other museums in Rome, it was always a strange feeling to stand in front of some of these works.  My memory of them still only from textbooks and school, and to feel that slight bit of connection to the history that I had read so much about.

With my attempts to see the Alexander the Great mosaic a bust, we went back to the hotel again and relaxed.  We were in Italy, so there was no need to go straight out again for dinner until later, so we took the time to relax and to wash.  It had been a fun and full day, but the heat and the dirt of the city made us both feel like we were coated in grime.  Veronica fell asleep.  It seemed like the right thing to do in the heat and given how long our day had been.  It also seemed to be a very local thing to do.  Avoid the heat of the day.  Sleep, rest.  Then go and do more once it was cool.  Outside, it was now dark.  I was getting hungry again, so I woke Veronica and we prepared to go out again.  This time we took the metro the very short distance from Dante to Toledo.  The Toledo metro stop has the reputation for being the most beautiful station in Europe.  I was skeptical of such a claim, but as we took the escalator out towards the exit, I understood more the love that many had for this place.  There was a modern feel to everything that tended almost towards the sci-fi. I wasn't sure if I would necessarily call this the most beautiful station in Europe, but it was certainly unique.  I took the obligatory photo, and strangely felt that it all actually looked better on camera than in real life.

Outside, we walked along Via Toledo again.  This time, we took a turn right and up into the Spanish Quarter.  The neighbourhood has the reputation as being the roughest in all of Napoli, full of crime and danger.  Once again, it seemed that the reputation was something that belonged in the past.  Instead, I found a bustling and lively neighbourhood, full of families and tourists all happily walking around and enjoying the summer evening.  Restaurants and cafes lined the streets and we were luckily able to find a table with the huge number of people who were walking around.  After we were seated, no less than a dozen other groups came and went with no luck.  We wanted Neapolitan food and we wanted seafood.  The waiter was exceedingly friendly, and once again helpful in a strangely gruff manner.  Veronica ordered a wine.  He scrunched his face and said no.  He turned the page and pointed to another bottle at the same price and said to get that one.  We ordered our dishes and when I asked about a fish, he looked at what we had ordered and shook his head again.  It was too much, we wouldn't be able to finish it all.  He could have easily just taken our order, charged us for all the food, but that didn't seem to be the way here.  At the tables around us, there was a curious mixture of tourists and locals alike.  A French couple sat to the side with their teenaged daughter.  An elderly Italian couple was nearby.  Some Americans sat next to us.  To the side was a large table full of young Napoli guys who seemed to be trying to drink their own weight in Coca Cola as they had their dinner. 

Once dinner was finished, we walked back to the area near Dante station.  Behind that station and piazza area full of people sitting in cafes drinking, there seemed to be a procession of people heading to and from an even busier area.  We followed them in and found what seemed to be the true party centre of this city.  It seemed to be an enormous street party (or "streets" party given it covered several blocks).  People were every, standing in and around the bars and cafes, overflowing out into the streets and around the small squares.  Drinking, smoking, laughing and talking. 

There was a liveliness to the night that energised the air.  There didn't seem to be any particular type of person involved either.  There were kids running around, elderly people, young people.  A group of young Americans walked by with their instantly recognisable accents.  Italians were standing around singing local songs.  One girl, dressed in a tiny clubbing dress strutted past us with her friends towards the centre of it all.  Everyone just seemed to have smiles on their faces, all doing their own thing in the same place and all at the same time.

I came to Napoli with no expectations.  Maybe even that isn't a correct statement.  It's probably more accurate to say that I came to Napoli with hesitant expectations.  The city has a reputation of crime, dirtiness and theft which terrifies tourists, but it does no justice at all to this place.  When you look at the place from the surface, it is grimy and run down.  There is trash everywhere and the people seem incredibly rough.  But this didn't capture this place at all.  This was a mad city that was full of life and joy.  The people were gregarious and friendly, helpful to a fault.  The food was exceptional.  The streets were a giant party, full of life and happiness.  

I heard there was a saying in Italy, "See Naples and die".  The reputation of this place was that once you saw it, you had seen all the beauty you needed to see and you could die happy.  I didn't want to die yet.  But I loved this city.