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...

Naples, the arrival

The flights were without great issue. First plane went up, bounced around above the storm system the whole time (the pilot, requesting that the flight attendants keep to their seats, tells us over the loudspeaker -- sorry, this is horrible!), I read my novel, plane landed, walk walk walk, across the crazy busy Atlanta airport (where are people going in midweek January?), in plenty of time for my Air France flight to Paris. How lucky to have grabbed a good seat on it at the very last minute! A glass of champagne (the norm on all Air France transAtlantic flights), a dinner, a mostly futile attempt at sleeping. Then walk walk walk from one terminal to the next in Paris and there, again, lots of people, but no lines on the transfer. American passports are now able to do automatic entry screening along with the EU passports which shortens the lines for us considerably. I even have time to grab the real deal at the airport!

The last flight's more or less on time, which is amazing given that today is a day of a Great French Strike and many transportation systems are affected. Still, I notice none of it. Indeed, I have an upgrade, which means not a whole lot as the seats up front are the same as in the back, but I am privileged to sit in front of an old Neapolitan couple who are of the old school, showing some of that bewilderment as the flight attendant attempts to convince us that a glass of orange juice and champagne would be just the ticket. Champagne and orange juice?? One other noteworthy event -- the skies clear as we fly over the Alps.

It's enchanting, really it is and I take out my big camera to photograph whatever we happen to pass outside my right-hand window. Still, the captain comes on to say the the views to the left are really impressive! Noting my interest in photography the flight attendant breaks all rules I'm sure by phoning the captain and gaining me permission to enter the cockpit. Which I do, but I am too awed and nervous to do more than take a random shot...

But I do wish the pilot  a bon appetit as he is eating a hearty brunch at the time of my visit. A remarkable moment, no matter which way you look at it.

*     *     *

We land pretty much on time, despite the greve (strike) and despite those aforementioned rains in Naples. In fact, it is only partly cloudy at noon. I think the only bits of sun for my whole trip are those that came through while we were landing. 

Taxi to the hotel. The usual conversation. Where are you from? Where is Wisconsin? Where are you from? Pompeii. Born and raised. Interesting. 

Picking place to stay here was tough. There's a lot of grumbling on the internet about most Neapolitan hotels. I wonder if people are just more grumpy or if hotels are really having a tough time keeping rooms clean and front desks staffed. When I finally picked a place, I wasn't yet sure if Bee would join me, so this had to be okay for her but also for a possibly solo me. In the end the Santa Lucia seemed like an obvious choice. The prices were so good that I asked for a view (it costs more). If all else fails, I'll sit by the window and watch the rain come down over the Bay of Naples. With Vesuvius just visible to the side.

(view from balcony)

(view from window)

Naples. I just finished a book about an American woman's experiences moving to Naples (The Mother-in-law Cure) and so I am a little under its influence. The Naples she discovered (fairly prosperous) was not the Naples described by Elena Ferrante. And yet, take these books and mix them with what you see before you and you think -- yes, I think I see a little of what you both want to convey. This is especially true since I am, of course, also Polish. Many have noted that Poles and Italians have a lot in common and I think those similarities come through especially in places like Naples. There is that stubborn adherence to tradition, often rooted in a very personal relationship with the church. And the Nonna in Naples is not unlike the Babcia in Poland. True, in Naples the discussion is how to make a good ragu and in Poland it will be how to make a bigos. Cabbage replaces tomatoes. Vodka replaces red wine. But the love of having a family recipe that's better than everyone else's -- not that different. 

So this is what I look for when I head out for my first walk in the Centro Storico (the old Naples) -- that evidence of all that I have read to be very real here -- that loud, gutsy ownership of space and time. A defiant belief that you can manipulate reality and come out okay at the end of the day. 

*     *     *

I mean to get myself eventually to my dinner choice for tonight. It's relatively far from my hotel -- some 50 minutes at a rapid pace. But, it's the place that woke me to the possibility of visiting Naples in January to begin with. Concettina Ai Tre Santi. Back in November, there was an article in the NYTimes about the awesomeness of pizza in this city. Everyone knows pizza was first made in Naples and this town is bursting with very excellent pizzerias. But the author of the article took it a step further -- she went to pizza places that were ostensibly beyond the beyond. Concettina was her first choice. Since it is a hefty walk from the hotel (walking an hour after dinner can be tiring), Bee and I decided to skip it during our time together. There are plenty of excellent pizzerias closer to us. But since I have before me this extra day and I am alone, I book a table for early eve and start a walk aiming in that direction at 1 p.m. 

I'm curious about two things today -- what's via Toledo like? It's supposed to be a pleasant shopping street here. I should stroll there.  And, too, I want to veer off into the Centro Storico. The heart of old Naples. 

In fact, I do cover a significant chunk of both, but this is not where my meandering takes me first. Here, follow along.

Just a little way up via Toledo, I see a building with a sign indicating that it houses a funicular station. There are four cable rails in Naples and this one, the Funiculare Centrale, is the longest. That it goes way up (four stations total) is a good reminder that Naples has hills. You don't feel it in the heart of the old city, but walk a few steps to its boundaries and suddenly you're panting. 

(see the hills?)

Another thing that took me by surprise: the way people eat food. It could not be more different than, say, in France. There are a million pastry shops and a million fried pizza shops and a million cafes. Few of them offer sitting choices. People eat on the street, standing up. I saw exactly zero number of sidewalk cafes brimming with chatting friends, lovers, visitors, you name it. And I walked for more than four hours, crisscrossing the city's neighborhoods. Zero. On the other hand, Italians standing to eat or grab that espresso or fried pizza? Everywhere.

(the pastry: uniquely Neapolitan!)

And here's the other fact that I hadn't fully appreciated, despite reading Ferrante's novels: Naples is cut up into neighborhoods and the ones down the hill (poorer) have little in common with the ones up the hill (wealthier). They say that even thieves know that you should rob with a different attitude up the hill: break in and steal art and appliances. Down the hill? Snatch tourist purses and maybe a camera or two. 

So I hop on the Funiculare (that's the station in the above photo) and then I am at the top, in a somewhat wealthier neighborhood, but without the views I was expecting. This is when I start asking. Excuse me, but do you know where I can find a view? And eventually, with great warmth and sincerity, I am directed to the Castle Sant'Elmo. 

You have to pay to enter, but it's worth it. In walking the ramparts, you see all of Naples before you. Even on a cloudy and momentarily wet January day.

(to the north)

(Vesuvius and the Amalfi coast)

A small group of Italian women, taking in the views...)

(further north...)

(Centro Storico -- it's not where the wealth is...)

(The north hills and shore? For moneyed people...)

I find another funicular and go down.

I realize I've been walking already for several hours and my sole food intake has been at the airport, with an extra croissant thrown in on the plane. Time to pause and finally point a finger at one of those pastries. Along with a macchiato, because I would not dare insult anyone by admitting that I like cappuccinos even in the afternoon.

Standing up, by the counter. At least I'm inside. (Great wall art!)

And now for the Centro Storico walk...

(Passing a church with a musician and a pair of spontaneous dancers...)

Many many pastry shops. This one makes the Neapolitan rings ("taralli") -- they're salty.

But you can opt for some sweet ones. That's what I do.

(Kids, going home from school...)

(Naples is like the rest of southern Italy in at least two ways: the ubiquitousness of men talking outside, and laundry hanging over the streets; both are present here...)

Many produce stands, as I enter the less touristy district of Naples. (This is the district where I find homelessness, though in smaller numbers than I had been expecting.)

Finally, my pizzeria.

I can't decide which pizza would give me the best indication of the quality here. I take forever. Finally I take the one that has three parts to it: there's buffalo ricotta, there's Margherita with tarallo crumbs, and there's incredible veal sausage and some wilted greens that I do not recognize. All three are smothered with smoked provolone. Amazing. Truly wonderful.

Walking home...

Of course I'm going to have a Negroni at the hotel! Of course!

Tomorrow, Bee is arriving, though not until late in the evening. But I have an idea for my day! For now -- buona notte, with so much amore!

Naples

I'm leaving for Naples. Soon. To nowhere else. Just Naples.

I know what sparked my interest to visit Naples, but I can't really put my finger on what pushed me to go with it. I have many sparked interests, after all. Few ever turn into real trips. So what is it about Naples? 

In all my travels to Italy, up and down the coasts, the islands, the cities, the small villages, mountains, lakes, places of beauty and places of history, I have never wanted to pause in Naples. For years and years, I have had images of a chaotic, dirty, and yes, dangerous city. Not one for the solo female traveler, in clothes that flashed her American naïveté and a big camera that paraded her tourist vulnerabilities. Not during Covid. I've heard the rumors about Naples hospitals -- you don't want to wind up in one, not without relatives minding your care from the sidelines! 

So what changed my mind? 

Was it the promise of good food? Of warmer winter weather? Of color? Street noise, of the type that you would run to, rather than run from? An understanding that this is a city with a people who have compassion as well as passion? Who live by rules that are truly their own and who value a day well spent, especially now, but really, also decades ago, a thousand years ago? There's beauty in all of that.

Naples is like Italy once was, they say, but really, Naples is like no other part of Italy.

So I wanted to be there and see for myself. And taste their pizza and sip their espresso -- both have their roots here -- and watch the people go about their daily lives in this crazily beautiful city that is, they say, like no other. Anywhere.

Naples is the third largest urban center in Italy. After Rome and Milan. But it's no Chicago: it's a third its size, which explains why it's so easy to plan excursions outside of it. And with Vesuvius towering to the east and the Amalfi coast shooting due south, you've got choices!

What really sealed the deal for me though was that my Polish friend, Bee, who has traveled to spend time with me before, was willing to come to Naples to spend time with me there. In January, which, though warm-ish, is known to be right in the thick of the rainy season. (They say it rains all winter and then in April, the summer heat rolls in.)

So here I am, boarding the noon flight today, minutes before a snow event here in Madison, to Atlanta, then to Paris, and if all connections work for me, then, finally -- Naples.

Because I changed the departure date just last night, moving it up by a day, things are feeling a tad chaotic. But, it's chaos I am used to. The chaos of travel.

Still, I have a quiet and lovely pre storm walk to the barn...

And I have a most wonderful breakfast with my ever encouraging beloved Ed...

(who will miss me more -- Ed or Dance? can't tell....)

And then I'm off. I don't trust that I will have enough time to post between flights, so I'm posting early and hoping that my next one will be from...Naples.

with so much love...