Naples is poorer than Rome: “The pizza is much cheaper.”
Naples is richer than Rome: “The pizza tastes much better.”
Napoli is “the most dangerous city in Italy.” Every Italian I spoke to warned me to be careful. In fact, the very first blog I posted was based on a conversation I had with a young man from Sicily about the differences between North and South Italy and the dangers of the South. This week, I saw a little part of Southern Italy myself and created my own opinions.
Napoli was raw, undiscovered, and challenging. As soon as I stepped off the train, Napoli began to taunt me. It was relentless! My eyes were drawn in every direction at once. With each step I was forced to look to my right towards the motor scooters zooming by in close proximity to my purse, to my left towards the potentially dangerous window-shoppers only pretending to be thus engaged, downwards at the uneven ground that constantly shifted beneath me, and upwards at the beautiful sky, architecture, and waving Neapolitans on balconies. To top it off, the streets were filled with the sounds of a loud canon, yells, music, and the chanting of “la-vo-ro” by participants in the manifestazione. The buses were not running because the streets were blocked –Napoli likes to throw everything at you at once.
We walked. I walked in silence. I walked with both hands on my bag, eyes constantly scanning the streets, ears on full alert, and intuition engaged. (Only my sense of smell was allowed to rest and only because my nose was still stuffy from my cold.) This hyper-awareness caused me to live completely in the moment and to notice things I otherwise would not have seen. If I had not been on full alert, I would not have noticed the smiling woman dancing on her balcony while hanging up her clothes to dry –and I definitely would have missed the man farther down the street who couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Neither would I have paid attention to the black cat that ran across our path twice, (perhaps to warn us about the overly interested young man constantly trailing just behind Mick) if I was not trying to avoid the junky, uneven sidewalk. Furtheremore, everywhere I looked, I saw pizza, panini, and pasta entering mouths. My eyes were drawn to the display windows of caffes showing off gelati, pies, cornetti, and other delightful cakes for prices unheard of in Rome. They were beckoning to me and I promised them I would return.
We made it to the hostel without incident. And then we experienced the whole thing again on the way to the archeological museum. And again on my wandering walk afterwards. Excitement is everywhere in Napoli! All one needs to do to find adventure is step outside.
In order to fully experience Napoli, Giulia and I decided to take off on our own. Napoli may have been exciting and chaotic while in a large group, but it became even more so when we split into smaller groups. With only one other friend, Napoli was intense. Although always chaotic and exciting, Napoli became also intimidating and fear-inspiring. Some of the narrower, darker side streets seemed foreboding and taunting. I thought twice before pulling out my camera and my map –ultimately deciding to use both as little as possible.
Unlike cities more tolerant of and accustomed to tourists, one does not have the luxury of walking bluntly, airily and conspicuously throughout Napoli. Thus, instead of using a map, Giulia and I picked out a destination on the horizon and hoped the city would unfold itself along the way. Our decision was a true reflection of the nature of Napoli –random, unknown, and full of surprises. The plan was to eventually reach the castle, our chosen ending point, but we did not. In the end, I'm glad we did not make it to the castle -our adventure was about the journey, not the destination.
As we climbed higher up into the sky, Napoli felt more and more dangerous. Aware of my personal tendency to accept challenges and push boundaries, I consciously and constantly promised myself that I would turn back at the slightest inclination of real danger. And still we climbed. We walked on wide streets and on narrow streets. We walked past churches and many, many madonelle. We walked past a group of kids playing soccer and we walked past an auto shop of sweaty, dirty, jeering men. On our left, we saw glimpses of beautiful houses on the hilltop, reaching to the sky. On our left, we saw broken houses with colorful clothes left out to dry. On our left, we saw couples kissing, lone men wandering, teenagers staring, and stray dogs barking.
At one point, we came to a big intersection. We had a choice: left or right? We chose neither. Across the street, there was a narrow stairway. At the bottom of the stairs was a small group of rough teenagers who stared unfalteringly. Although past experience caused us to believe the stairs would lead to a gated apartment complex, there was also the possibility of an opening at the top. And so we climbed. We climbed on hope alone. The smell was horrible! I think there was a sewer beneath us. Halfway up, I was ready to turn back. On we climbed. Near the top was a five foot area that was blocked off because of a hole in the stairs. There was also a Madonella on the wall surrounded by candles and flowers on all sides. We climbed around the area that was marked off and found, to our extreme pleasure, open space. We stepped off the stairs and into freedom.
The view was incredible. Absolutely astonishing. We could see all of Naples. As we watched, the clouds began to reveal Mount Vesuvius, as if rewarding us for our perseverance. Very carefully, we took some quick photographs and discussed our plans, both agreeing to turn back before the sun began to set. Then, we continued on. The top of Naples and the castle were within our reach. As we walked towards them, we tried our luck with a few more intimidating staircases –but they all lead to nowhere. One in particular led to a dirt road that may have been a driveway on private property. From there, we could see into the backyards of Neapolitans that lived on the hill. One family had decorated their little garden with gnomes representing Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. All of the homes had an incredible view of the city and the world beyond it. They overlooked a hill of houses and monuments, Mount Vesuvius, the coast and the vast expanse of the ocean. Words cannot describe it. We admired the view as long as we could but were soon scared away by the angry barking of an enormous black dog.
We ran back down the stairs, laughing and tripping all over each other. We named our new dog friend, Caravaggio (after my favorite painter). At the bottom, we took a right and resumed our walk uphill. However, as the sun started to fade, the people also seemed to fade (especially the women). There was more and more garbage on the sidewalks and there were less and less cars in the streets. We continuously admired the view but started to accept the idea that we would not reach the castle after all. Finally, we decided to walk another twenty feet to a niche view point, admire the scenery, consult the map, and then head back speedily.
The way down was as exciting as the way up. It was shorter (because we walked faster) but it was even more of an adrenaline rush. We did not speak, preferring to stay inconspicuous. It’s an interesting thing to walk side by side in forced silence. The mind imagines crazy scenarios when unoccupied by conversation or physical exertion. During that silent walk, my mind ran through tens of unfortunate scenarios that could have occurred -all scary and unavoidable. Fortunately, Giulia and I were both consoled by the fact that all we carried between us were maps, one old camera, one cheap cell phone, and 5cents. In retrospect, there was little logical reason to worry but I am still glad we stayed on our toes.
Return to the Centro Storico
It was an amazing experience. When we got back to the centro storico, we both relaxed and our pace slowed drastically. We wandered around street shops and poked our noses at display windows. We seriously debated the different flavors of gelato and the merits of the pizza in Naples. In my opinion, cioccolato bianco is the best gelato and piazza diavola is the best pizza. To read her opinion, which I quite disagree with and therefore refuse to repeat, you should consult her blog! We had a blast and we smiled from ear to ear the whole way to the hostel.
Back in Rome:
Rome has become comfortable in a way I never thought it would. I know parts of Rome as well as I know my own hometown. I can easily get from Termini Train Station to Campo di Fiori, located on opposite sides of centro storico, without thinking twice. I can do this at night, wearing a backpack, rolling a suitcase, and I'll still feel completely safe. In fact, it is difficult for me to remember the time when this little journey did not feel natural. It is hard for me to look back to my first night in Rome and remember how foreign it was getting off the train at Termini. I remember clutching my bags tightly and keeping my distance from absolutely everyone. I remember feeling as scared that first night in Rome as I ever did in Napoli.
Rome is homey, but unauthentic. Rome has been tainted by the constant waves of tourists that pass through. In Rome, one does not need to act Roman in order to get by. In Rome, foreigners can expect to be treated worse than Romans. Yet, even those aware of this fact choose not to make an effort to learn the Roman culture and perhaps begin to fit in. The city has adapted itself to benefit from ignorant tourists –but the tourists have not adapted their behaviors to avoid this ill treatment. It is too easy to get by speaking only English for them to find it worthwhile to learn Italian. They would rather be over-charged for goods than exert effort in learning Italian culture. They would complain about receiving poor service in a restaurant than take the time to wonder why. Thus, Romans have lumped all tourists together and assume the worst from all of us.
I’ve found that many Romans have been jaded by their experiences with and observations of past tourists. This is the biggest barrier I feel I have to jump with every new Roman that I meet. In order to be treated with respect or even interest, I have to work twice as hard to separate myself from the average tourist. Fortunately, I have finally started to figure out the way the Roman system works. I have made friends in restaurants and dance clubs –thus getting the best meals/drinks for the best prices. The dessert shown above, along with other desserts and drinks, were free (gratuito) -giving out free/reduced-cost meals is very commonly done for those who know the servers in Italian restaurants.
Unfortunately, although figuring out the system is extremely helpful, it is not satisfying. It does not feel right. The Roman system caters only to the “in-group,” which is most often determined by nationality, language, and skin color. It appears to me that Napoli, being poorer and less traveled, is not as eager to categorize and rate human beings. Napoli has not been jaded by a constant wave of tourists. Those of us that truly want to fit in and experience Italian culture still have a chance in Napoli. My Napoli is richer than my Rome.
Ciao!
Teo
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