leaving Naples?

First, an announcement that has nothing to do with Naples or even Italy: I am scheduled to do a presentation on my book, Like a Swallow, at the Oregon Public Library (Oregon, Wisconsin that is!) this Thursday, January 26th at 6:30p.m. If you are in the area, come by and say hi! If you are not, then you can listen in via Zoom. Register at this link! And let me know if you are an Ocean reader. I would love to meet you.

Now, about Naples. 

Yesterday, after crisscrossing the city all afternoon, I decided I was seeing too much. How so? Well, Bee and I are supposed to discover the city together. I relished being a co-conspirator rather than one who is leading around another person who has yet to familiarize herself with the city. Bee is coming tonight. What should I do with the day before her arrival? Leave Naples!

Italy, like the rest of Europe, has an excellent train network and there is a high speed connection to Rome. One hour and ten minutes. Rome is to Naples as Madison is to Chicago -- 120 miles away. One can only be envious. I book a ticket there and back.

This morning, I witness a sunrise over the Amalfi coast.

This may lead you to hope that I will have a fine weather day. Nothing could be further from the truth. It will rain here, it may rain in Rome. No matter! I am psyched.

But first, breakfast. Predictably, there are many cakes and pastries to choose from. I try to balance this with my desire to stay focused on eating something reasonably good for you. The result is weird, but I like it!

And now I have to make my way to the Garibaldi train station. Everyone says this is at a terribly unattractive point in Naples, and I guess that's true. And a few paces into the longish walk, I take a look at a snow topped Vesuvius (shows you what the weather was like last night!)...

...and then I turn around and come back to the hotel, where there is a long line of cabs waiting. I have visions of taking the wrong turn and missing my train. Better to be safe. 

The train (which, Naples notwithstanding, leaves on time at 10:30) is heading all the way to Milano. I have a comfy seat and good internet connection. And good views! Such luxury! 

Arriviamo a Roma.

I wasn't prepared for this side trip and a dozen years have passed since I was last here (with my younger girl, who was once as happy to travel with me as Snowdrop is today!). But Rome, huge city that it is, does not require much of the visitor. The center is walkable and shockingly predictable. Besides, I have a smart phone with a map to help me if I get confused.

People who live in Rome say that they have not a whole lot in common with their neighbors to the south (Neapolitans would agree and they're proud of it! Nether trusts the other). To the average tourist though (and I am that) the differences aren't so obvious. In fact, I was thinking yesterday as I walked through some of the less attractive blocks of Naples -- you can forgive a lot there because at its core, the city does feel Italian. For me, in every bit of Italy I have to remind myself that Italians care deeply about what's on the inside, much more than what's on the outside. Many blocks in Venice, Florence, and certainly Rome are unremarkable until you step through the doors and look inside. The same can be said of Naples. 

But Rome does have a unique beauty to it. A stateliness and historic wealth. A confidence in all that it has to offer. I want to feel that vibe today. It's why I'm here, no?

I walk first to the Campo de Fiori market. This is a hefty walk but it's full of Rome, hills and all!

Go ahead, ask me about my knee! Weeeeeell... Yesterday's muckin' around for five hours is felt today. And I didn't pack my brace because things felt good back home. Still, if I don't speed too much, I can go the distance.

And here's the charm of walking: you pass things that totally surprise you. This happened on my way to the Campo de Fiori: outside a very ordinary looking building (Palazzo Bonaparte), I see Van Gogh posters. I go inside. It appears that there is an exhibition of his work -- fifty canvases from the collection of Helene Kroller-Muller (these normally are displayed at the museum in Otterlo in the Netherlands), who was one of the first collectors (and certainly the first female collector) to recognize his genius.

The exhibition is fantastic! The notes tell his story in terms of a progression -- of style, of subject, of color. I can't get enough of it! My eyes spill over. 

Paintings that were most meaningful to me:

(Women in snow, carrying sacks of coal, 1882)

(Peasants planting potatoes, 1884)

There is a room with a bit of the Van Gogh light show, which I saw way back in Paris and which I do believe is currently in Madison. What I like about this one is that it's just one room and just one theme...

The exhibition ends with this portrait. His last I believe. Of a despondent old man.

And now for the market, passing Rome's Wedding Cake...

And so many interesting streets! I am glad to be moving. It's considerably colder here than in Naples, though thankfully, despite predictions to the contrary, it does not rain at all the whole time I am here.

Okay, the market. It's big, and it has artichokes in many forms and sizes.

From there it's a hop skip to what was always my favorite square in Rome -- Piazza Navona. It's as stunning as ever. And so empty now!

I consider lunch. A few blocks further I know there is a restaurant that was a favorite for my girl and me: Ristorante Maccheroni. I check it out. Yes, they have a table. Yes, it's crowded. Yes, I'd love to eat here!

(the placemat reminds me of... me!)

Ravioli with zucchini flowers and cheese, in a white sauce and a glass of red -- heaven! Just perfect. I must go back to stuffed tortelli making when I get home!

There are lots of men -- as always at lunch time in Europe, though here, there's a healthy mix of lovers, friends and the occasional father and son. 

(shooting into a high mirror)

I notice that many order the Roman artichoke as an appetizer. I should have done the same. All those market artichokes... Well, let's break protocol and eat it after my pasta dish! The waiter doesn't care! Neither should I.

A macchiato, and I'm out again.

My next stop is the not too far from here Trevi Fountain. And there, you'll find the tourists. Not nearly in the quantities you'd see in summer, but still, Trevi has in recent decades felt like Disneyland and unfortunately, it's pretty much the same in January. I took one quick stupid photo and left.

And from here, it's a solid but pretty walk back to the train station. (I have a 4:30 train back to Naples.) Along the way I pass a pharmacy. Empty, with four staff members just waiting to be of service. I go in and ask for knee brace. I could manage to hobble along without it, but I'm concerned that it may get worse. Better be prepared. 

While there, I ask, out of curiosity, if they stack Paxlovid. They do, but they have sold exactly one packet of it in all the time they've had it (and yes, you do need a prescription). Why? The pharmacist explains the way things work here: if you buy it at the pharmacy, you'll bay the sticker price of 2000 Euros. At the going exchange rate, that's slightly over $2000. But if you go to the hospital, it's free. I ask him if he thinks hospitals in Naples have it. Oh sure -- he says. But you wont need it. I tell him I'm almost 70. He smiles. The variant here is pretty mild. My Nonna got Covid last week. Just a cold, nothing more. That's the way it's been for most. 

Well, so far I've avoided it. I do mask in crowded situations, but of course, I eat out too.

The train comes on time and an hour and ten later, I am in Naples in cold, wet, dark.

It's a very unattractive walk back to the area of my hotel (which stands right at the midpoint, between Centro Storico and the more "splendid" hill districts of northern Naples), so I splurge and take a taxi back.

Where are you from? America? I love everything about America! I have a tattoo of the Statue of Liberty! This is not time to talk about our poor, tired and huddled masses. Besides, he has moved on. And Harley Davidson! And in 2018, I took my kids to Florida, to Disney park! A trip of a lifetime...

And now for a quick meal. Where to? I go to the island that is home to a castle and a handful of restaurants. Just across the causeway from my hotel. There, I eat at the Officina del Mare. 

This sounds like a small effort on my part. Google Maps will tell you that it's a four minute walk for me. Well, five or six with my knee, but still, peanuts! But the weather turns violent. Winds, rain -- it all rolls in from the sea and it is vicious! I begin to worry not only about my five or six minutes, but about Bee's flight in tonight.

So of course, I order comfort foods. A salad, to stay healthy, and heavenly pasta with fruitti di mare.

The restaurant has only outside seating. To compensate for winter storms, it wraps itself in thick plastic and it brings in heating lamps. That wasn't enough tonight. I got an additional blanket on my lap.

Still, the food was heaven on earth. I thought I'd never eat any clam or mussel again after my lunch in September in New York, but here I am, loving every last morsel. The menu tells me it's Vesuvius tomatoes and the clams and mussels are from the waters just to the side of us. The freshness is palpable.

And now I hurry back to the hotel and before 9, Bee is here. And yes, I do have a Negroni, but there aren't any pictures to take or notes to scribble here on Ocean. I haven't seen Bee (in person) since before the pandemic and we lose ourselves in an authentic non-zoom evening of talk.

Minutes before midnight, I post this. But don't expect lengthy writing in the next few days. There just wont be time for it.

With love...