Naples was strange.
As we rode through the Italian countryside, I listened to Sunny Day Real Estate, and watched the world whizz past me. I saw all the changes in landscape, the gorgeous hills and coast, the villas. Coming into the suburbs, we saw poverty--the villas were more run down, with laundry hanging over the balconies, and a helicopter circling above. This gave way to the city, a fast and glorious placed, filled with the scent of danger.
We took a cab to our hotel, a maniacal cab driver who fully took advantage of the fact that red lights are optional in Naples. Our hotel was the Mediterraneo, a classy looking place. Unlike the Palladium, the shower was enclosed (the shower at the Palladium was in the middle of the bathroom without so much as a curtain) and the air conditioner worked. We would soon learn that the Palladium was still a much better hotel--the staff at the Mediterraneo would prove to be very unhelpful and rather snotty, and there would be construction that involved a constant jackhammer noise above us starting between 9 and 11 in the morning, and not ceasing until 6:30 PM.
Naples was intense. Everyone went quickly, and most people rode scooters. The streets were mad with people, most of which were very impatient and made your stereotypical New Yorker look downright cordial and neighborly. We tried to go shopping in one of the numerous (and overpriced) clothing stores. They would take one look at me and follow me around the store. I was never sure if they thought I was going to steal something or if they were out to pick my pocket, that's how close they stood. After a few times of this, I didn't feel much impetus to try on clothes. As we walked around, a woman spoke to Rob in Italian, giving a sob story about how she needed money for her baby. You could see that this woman was just a mere hustler, and Rob pretended to not speak Italian. She then went to a local, standing nearby. He didn't even bother to answer her-just flipped on his cell phone and pretended to talk until she went away.
People stared at my tattoo, as well. In particular, my dia de los muertos tattoo. I think it was the bishop calavera that threw them off. Naples was the place to be seen, land of the beautiful people, and all the women seemed to be pretending to be fashion models, even the ones who worked at McDonalds. The women often glared at me, and I couldn't help but wonder if Vatican City didn't flinch at my tattoos, why I had people turning around and staring at me in the streets.
After a day of this, Naples got a little too intense for us, so we decided to take the jet boat to Sorrento. Sorrento was a nice little town, filled with charming alleyways that had endless shops, restaurants and bars. The people were quite friendly, too. Instead of glares I got compliments and curious inquiries regarding my tattoos. Perhaps it was because they were trying to sell their wares, but at least they were polite. And at least they wanted to sell their wares to me, instead of taking one look at me and trying to intimidate me out of their store.(This wasn't everyone--the woman at the swatch store in Naples was nice enough, as was the old man in the luggage store.) So we went shopping, buying presents for back home and more Italian clothes and a couple diaries in Italian. We went out for some drinks and spent siesta time, sitting in a streetside bar. Then we went for lunch, where I got a delicious fettucine in a gorgonzola sauce, then meandered back into Naples in time for dinner.
The next day, we took the boat into Capri. It was a mobscene trying to board, as no one paid attention to the line and just charged it. At one point, Rob had given his ticket to the agent and tried to board. He got pushed by some people back into the mob, and then they started screaming at him when he pushed his way back to catch up with him. It was ludicrous. Most of these people were tourists, though.
Capri was pretty touristy, a bit overwhelmingly so, but we found a nice place for lunch and then headed back.
My Dad told me that although my Grandfather thoughthe was Sicilian, evidence shows that he was actually Neapolitan. Well, I guess that would explain my love/hate sentiment toward Naples.
The restaurants were amazing. The first restaurant we went to was not bad, my food was delicious, although the waiter was a bit snotty and I guess the food is only as good as the dish you choose to order. The second night, we discovered this great restaurant, which seemed very popular among the younger crowd of Napoli. They gave liberal amounts of food, and the waiter was a very warm and funny guy. They ended each meal with a shot of limoncello, this very tasty lemon liquer which is native to the area. The food was very tasty, and the atmosphere great. We wound up going there two nights in a row, introducing my Dad to the place on the second night.
The final night, we went to a place in an obscure alleyway near the harbor,called de Napoli a New York. Roughly translated, it means Napoli of New York. The restaurant was run by this fellow, Roberto. Roberto was gregarious and quite wacky, and sat down with us to tell us about when he used to live in New York and show us old pictures. When not sitting with us, he would jump from table to table. At one point, some asian tourists came in, and he began bartering with them to sell them some wine. The food was absolutely delicious, some of the best I'd had on the trip.
We left for the Naples airport at 5 AM Friday morning. I watched the cab driver whizz through the streets of Naples, seeing it almost empty for probably the first time since we'd arrived. I watched the strange city fade from the distance when I got my window seat on the airplane, and felt a certain melancholy to be leaving this beautiful and odd country...