Naples with Bee, one last time

There is a bit of a tease going on in this place. We check meticulously the hourly weather prognosis for Naples. Last night, the word "rain" was only occasionally replaced by "showers." Showers, rain -- take your pick, both sound wet to me. And thus the verdict is clear -- the storm system has rolled in some pretty saturated clouds and they are going to do their work, dumping mounds of water on us all day long. Again.

And yet, this early morning looks deceptively pleasant! As if everything had changed course. Breaks in the clouds, no umbrellas in sight. 

But it's all a big laugh, to show us what could have been! You want to see Naples in better weather? Here, take a look! Ha, but today? Oh, that's something quite different.

So Bee and I linger over breakfast. She takes off tonight, so every moment is more precious. Leave no detail behind. Yes, there will be Zooms, but sitting at the same table is so much better!

And now the wind picks up, big dark clouds really take charge. As we get ready to head out the door, there is a cloudburst - not of rain, but sleet and hail. Suddenly, Neapolitan streets are littered with bits of ice. Well now, that's unusual! But this is our reality. All day, the wind will blow in dark clouds, big blobs of rain or sleet will come down and then the clouds will move on. Until the next one. Freaky weather! But, you could also say that the colors are extra sharp and the cloudbursts never last too long. Our umbrellas get a real workout out, buffeted that they are by a ferocious slapping and pulling in every direction.

We made plans to do some indoor stuff, starting with a tour of the Real Teatro di San Carlo.  Built in 1737, it is apparently stunning. In operation since before La Scala, before La Fenicie, it is in fact the oldest opera house in Europe. As we get ready to plunk down our money for the visit, we are given an "oh by the way." As in -- oh, by the way, you can only see the scaffolding and the ceiling restoration. The rest is closed for renovation. Well no thank you! We want to see this:

Not just frescoes on a ceiling in a state of disrepair.

Never mind, we have a plan B: the Royal Palace in Naples.

The Palace is huge and it is right next to the theater, which is a good thing because, well, the weather sucks.

Here is one highlight -- a staircase so grand that you feel you're underdressed using its splendid slabs of marble. Some have called it the grandest stairwell in all of Europe (Photo curtesy of Bee).

Thirty-eight rooms are open to the public. I tell Bee we will be done in half an hour -- that's how quickly I usually walk through such opulent structures (except in touristy places that are so crowded that I have to elbow my way from room to room before I can get to the end). 

The Royal Palace of Naples is not crowded. At all. Indeed, there's almost no one in this cavernous, gilded space. Bee thinks it looks sad and a little neglected. I would not disagree. It's as if the party had moved on and now here you are alone, abandoned, with uncomfortable chairs, lots of mirrors and highly decorated ceilings. Take a look:

(Perhaps the most interesting piece of furniture: a gizmo for a person who wants to read several books at the same time! An early version of a kindle!)

In one of the rooms (possibly the ballroom), we find a cushioned chair and we sit down and stay for more than half an hour, just to talk.

Ha! We missed a window of decent weather. By the time we are out again, the rain is... pronounced. 

We go to a nearby coffee shop. Despairing at the difficulty of finding decent sit-down cafes here, I looked up the possibilities and discovered Gran Caffe Gambrinus ("Gambrinus" is a legendary, somewhat inebriated character who seems always to be happy). This place has been here since the 19th century and it's not surprising that such famed souls as Wilde, Hemingway, Zola and Sartre liked to hang out here.  You have to fall in love with a place that sells these:

We sit at a table at the window and indulge, arguing over whether the berries on my cake are (the world acc. to Bee) strawberry, or (the world acc. to me) fraises de bois. In the end, Bee acquiesces.

(the waiters are oblivious to our search for The Truth)

And now we set out along the Via Chiaia -- a sweet little shopping street just behind the cafe. Nothing tempts us, but still, the drizzle is light, our moods are great. (All that sugar!)

And we have carried ourselves right toward the tail end of the lunch window. It's now or never! We head toward Impasto 55, a well recommended pizza place in our neighborhood. It's open still, and again we get a window seat, and again that's just begging for us to talk way past the hour of the meal.

What did we eat?

Fried stuffed zucchini flowers...

... And pizzas: margherita for Bee and the Impasto 55 for me (in addition to small Vesuvius tomatoes and the wonderful cheese, it has squirts of pesto sauce).

And for dessert? Oh, let me remind you -- we ate that before lunch! Just like they traditionally do in coastal Poland: cake before protein!

Feeling more energetic, we set out for a walk along the coast. 

Never mind.

We turn back.

The wind is just too fierce. Even when the rain lets up, the slaps on the face are such that you want to run away and hide.

We spend our last hours together in the hotel room, this time mine, continuing our never-ending conversation, and the minute she leaves, I remember all that I meant to ask her, but it will have to wait, and perhaps that's a good thing, because it is always so fine to reconnect and restart where we left off. I'm okay with Zoom, really I am. Sigh...

Thank you, Bee, for coming to Naples, despite the absurdity of it all! It was grand to have this adventure here with you and I miss you already!

(Sunset? Honestly? You devilish weather, you!)

In the later evening I cannot decide if a walk is warranted.

(If I were to write a child's book about monsters, I might use this photo to illustrate it; out my balcony window!)

One side of me says. -- go! It's your last evening in Naples! The other? Over my dead body! I'm not going out in that crazy weather!

The second side wins.

But by 8, I realize that the afternoon pizza doesn't really have staying power. I tell myself -- well, there's a restaurant in the hotel, people appear to like it, I can go there and order just a soup, right?

I don't order just a soup. In fact, I order no soup at all. I want warm and comfy food and don't you think that wild mushroom risotto is about as warm and comfy as they get? With a salad to make me feel healthy. And a Negroni, because this is the last night in Italy and tomorrow's flights are long and hard and so I deserve it.

I could have stopped there. But no. I have been seeing babas au rum in all the pastry shops, and I finally google a question that is something like this "hey, isn't baba au rum French? Why am I seeing them everywhere in Naples?" The answer is yes to both: it's French, imported there from Poland (!) and then exported from there to Naples. Not Italy, but exactly, specifically and only to Naples. Well now, this just makes it absolutely necessary to end my Neapolitan eating with this awesome ciastko (Polish for small cake).

Oh my dear Ed! You do not know what you are missing!

Tomorrow, full of thoughts, insights, nostalgic memories, food, ideas, and yes, excitement, because of all that's there waiting for me -- I fly home.

With so much love.

leaving Naples again??

Well, it was too tempting. Naples, on Sunday: heavy rain. Roma, on Sunday: partly cloudy. Where would you like to be on this day? A no brainer, right?

We decided to take an early train out, to give ourselves more time in the big city. Rome opens page after page of possibilities. And so, some short time after turning out the light last night, but before sunrise, I am up again, Bee is up again, and we meet for a very early breakfast. This time I go easy on food. A few local tomatoes, a buffalo mozzarella and a few tiny pastries. And the ubiquitous melon.

A quick taxi ride to the station (it's Sunday, it's raining, it's early -- no one is out and about), a short wait, and we're on the train to Rome. Punctual, clean, luxuriously comfortable. My jealousy knows no bounds as I watch the screen display the speed right now -- through the Apennine Mountains, at 280 kilometers, or 174 miles per hour).

Do we have a plan for Rome? Bee is a flexible traveler asking only if we can try for the Van Gogh exhibit. I'd love to go back, but there's a problem -- the online tickets are sold out for today. Still, we'll walk over, hope for the possibility of a last minute entry and if it's a no-go, we'll move on.

(the walk)

Notice please (as we do!) that it is partly cloudy. If ever one is grateful to see sunshine it would be us on this day, after spending so many hours underneath umbrellas yesterday. (We don't have total confidence, so tarnished are we by Naples' wetness, and so we did pack our umbrellas, but with the hope that they'll stay hidden all day long.)

Rome. I could spend another week here. (Naples is a great adventure, but you dont necessarily want to repeat a great adventure. Rome is that never-ending story that you just want to pick up and keep reading.) 

Okay, we are at the Palazzo Bonaparte -- the place of the Van Gogh exhibit. 

And we are lucky! We see right away two lines: one for ticket holders and one for poor waifs like us! That means they are selling extras at the door! We snatch two and now we are inside, walking through the last decade of this artist's life, savoring the detail, loving the story, even if it is such a sad story. A few favorite paintings for you -- ones I didn't post before:

Leaving the museum, we vary our walk a bit: we cross the river Tevere at the Ponte Sisto -- which has been here since the 16th century. Here's a river view while standing on that bridge. It's a view that I totally do not remember from any past visits:

 

Note the turbulent waters! On summer visits, the Tevere is nearly dry.

You want to look more closely at a really ancient bridge? Here it is, built at 62 B.C.: Ponte Fabricio, the oldest Roman bridge.

I want to walk the narrow streets of Trastevere and Bee is game -- she's a great walker, a fantastic companion, and an unusual in that she allows me to be bone serious, but, too, she can be a source of great merriment. It is one reason why I let us get so lost yesterday. I could not stop laughing at the ridiculousness of slipping twice on wet metal grates. You don't think that's very funny? We beg to differ!

If there is a central point to this neighborhood, it would be on the square of the Basilica Santa Maria. Remember when we thought of this place as a gathering spot for spaced out hippies? 

Despite the old architecture, the place has been transforming itself over the decades. Of course it has. Cities change. Neighborhoods adjust to new demands, meeting some, bypassing others.

(What's Roman pastry like? I don't know... it seems to like to borrow from neighbors down south...)

And now we go back to the river, crossing it this time on the Ponte Giuseppe Mazzini (which may look old, but was actually built in the early years of the twentieth century). You can't see it -- I'm standing on it -- but these days it is fully pedestrian. The bridge in the picture is the Ponte Principe Amedeo Savoia Aosta (named after an Italian general who I believe died in Ethiopia in 1941 of malaria, or TB, or both; this bridge, too, is fairly new, built during World War II).

And you have to wonder -- is there ever a famous bridge named after a woman? Yes there is! Ponte Regina Margherita (a queen consort of Italy in the 19th century), further down, by the Borghese Gardens.

From the river, we move on to the Campo de' Fiori (no real market today, just stalls of stuff a Sunday stroller might buy...)...

And onto Piazza Navona.

Now, I could get creative here and propose a lunch in a place other than Maccheroni. But it's Sunday and there are many, many Italians out and about (the weather! sunshine!) and you know that between 1 and 2 every one of them will want to sit down and eat. So I call Maccheroni and yes, they'll save a table for us. It'll have to be downstairs. But, the place is fully booked so we count our blessings.

They ran out of artichokes so we satisfy ourselves with the more universal salads (though with slivers of parmesan), followed by those ravioli with zucchini flowers. I could have at least ordered something new, but I would have been envious watching Bee cut off piece after piece of pasta filled with the yellow flowers and cheese. Besides, when am I next going to have the opportunity of biting into a freshly harvested zucchini flower?!

We've walked a lot already, but we're game for more. Tourist sights, to be sure, and not uncrowded on this lovely January Sunday, but all is forgiven. People, mostly Italian people, are enjoying themselves. We are within that throng of humanity.

(honestly, it's not that cold!)

One more crazily touristy place -- the Spanish Steps. Here, nationalities mix like noodles in a pot of soup.

And for all its nuttiness, it still is a magnificent place...

... with a magnificent view from the top, all the way to St. Peter's across the river.

And with this we end our long day in Rome. Thankfully, my knee mostly held up, the rain stayed away, and no one nabbed our purses, phones or cameras. More importantly, we had a beautiful day. As Bee noted -- two ancient women in an ancient city. Yeah, walking in every direction, at a fast clip. Pretty good!

The train ride to Naples? Quite full, but like everyone, we had reserved seats. And by the time we pulled into Naples, I was almost asleep. Nothing makes you as dozy as a rocking train speeding south as the sun slips further to the west and the lights appear in windows of village houses.

In Naples, we cab over to the hotel and catch up on the details of life back home.

A little later, we confer about dinner. Neither of us is hungry. So, I grab a drink and a bag of cookies, Bee takes out a few oranges and we stay in her room, munching and talking, perhaps a little giddy with the satisfaction of having navigated these days so well, but also knowing that we have one more day in this chaotic city and it's going to be a very wet one!

No problem! We come up with a strategy to face the rains in the morning. Want to know what to do here if it's really pouring all day? Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you about it!

with love...

Naples, with Bee

Naples weather is having its wild and crazy ride this week. Rain, wind -- that was yesterday. Snow again on Vesuvius overnight. A cloud break at dawn and then, just when any decent tourist would want to head out -- more rain.

(from the tiny balcony, at day break)

Consider this as simply bad luck (it clears the day I leave). Or, view it as an opportunity! Bee and I discuss our options over breakfast.

There is little sense in visiting either Pompeii or Vesuvius or even the Amalfi coast in this weather (these had been our plans for Sunday). I mean, a diehard tourist who wants to check off all the boxes and send a couple of pics by the volcano back home to friends -- maybe. But I do not choose my visits for what they may bring to Ocean (sorry, readers! Vesuvius is a no go this time around!) and Bee certainly isn't into box checking. We are in Naples today, but tomorrow, we will head out to some place that doesn't have steady rain in its forecast.

And now for a more thorough exploration of this city. Instead of heading toward the Centro Storico, we first walk the streets of Chiaia. The Naples Riviera. 

What stands out? Well, it doesn't look a bit like any other Riviera that I've seen. There's a strip of green, there's traffic, there's the sea. Somewhere on the other side of the strip of green is a row of buildings that may or may not have interesting shops or eateries. We don't know, because it's not easy to cross the green strip to see what's on the other side. I dare say, it's not possible to cross it. Once you've committed to the sea, you stay with your choice for a long, long while.

The sea is more gentle today. The kilometer we spend by its shores is deeply satisfying. 

(full view of the volcano)

We turn in then and start going up the hills, mostly to locate a Funiculare that has a station somewhere in the vicinity. 

Bee and I want the city views again from the Castle Sant'Elmo -- the fourteenth century fortress that towers above the city. But it's little more complicated: from where we have walked, you take a train to the nearby Funiculare. Once we understand this (it takes many helpful people), we wait for the train. On the wrong side of the platform. We don't know this, we don't know that. So typical is our tourist's fumble that the train ticket agent points to my camera and shook his finger with warning words about keeping it secured, so no one will snatch it. I can tell his thought process: distracted older women, innocent, perfect victims for petty crime. Ha! Knock on wood -- here we are at the end of the day and 1. nothing was stolen, 2. no car ran us over on a crossing, and 3. no one cheated us out of house and home. But, we did get significantly lost toward the end of the day, and we put ourselves into the shadier neighborhoods of the city, and as the phone map keeper, I have to say -- it was my fault.

The little train did indeed take us to the cable car (Funiculare) up the hill and from there it was an easy walk to the castle. I wont show you too many views -- you've seen them! Though I have to say, today brought with it the unrelenting rain, so that a significant portion of the coastline was under dark clouds. In other words, visibility was more limited. But, it's all still pretty!

(Vesuvius is under a cloud cover...)

(so is the coast to the north)

(selfie!!)

From there, down we go in another Funiculare  and man oh man, could we hear the rain beat against the roof of the train car! We step out into as close to a downpour as I hope to get here. Still, we follow the streets, full of (wet) market stalls and zucchini flowers and artichokes and oranges and fresh fish (and umbrellas!)...

... and I have to say, Naples is colorful even in bad weather!

Once we get to Toledo Street, we have the idea that this would be a perfect time to go to the Museum. Gallerie d'Italia is just down the street and it displays of a gruesome but famous Caravaggio canvas, along with other Neapolitan artists who painted from the 17th to the 19th centuries. There's a long wait for tickets, but the museum rooms aren't full at all. One of those mysteries of tourism that are hard to explain.

(Caravaggio)

And now we are heading deeply into the Centro Storico.

It's still raining, but, too, we see that the sun is waging a war with the dark rain clouds. And by the time we enter the Cloisters of Santa Chiara, the sun wins and we see wisps of a blue sky. Not total blue and not without a rain later on, but here, in this garden of orange trees, and colorful tiles, the day just got that much brighter.

Back to the narrow streets and alleys of this old section of Naples. People are eating fried pizza on the street again!

We have been walking for hours. It's three o'clock! The rain has wet our shoes. It is cold. We need food!

There are many pizzerias to choose from -- hey, this one looks okay! (Attanasio Pizzeria)

It's casual, it's not fussy and the pizzas - a margheritta and a pizza con porcini, with some meats thrown in along with the mushrooms -- are fabulous. We split them evenly.

Fortified, we continue to the Duomo. I am not at all a lover of ecclesiastical architecture, but we do spend some small amount of time inside. As we leave, I'm thinking -- my but we are both getting tired now and it is still a long walk back to the hotel.

Made longer by me taking a few wrong turns along the way. 

Finally. We are by the water again. A pause to admire Vesuvius in the evening light...

And we are home! We both turn on our tea kettles in our rooms. Nothing hits the spot as well as a hot cup of your favorite brew and we each brought baggies of teas from home.

An hour later we are out again for the long walk (ha! all of two minutes, but we are walked out! My watch tells me I broke all records today!) -- to the restaurant called RestaQmme.

What caught my attention (after reading various reviews in places that write about food) was the name of the chef: Magdalena Buczynska. Sounds Polish, doesn't it? This was to be Bee's 70th birthday dinner from me, so it had to be special. Good Neapolitan food, cooked by a creative Polish chef? In a room that announces itself as a "trattoria di charme?" Sounds perfect.

We make no bones about it: we tell the maitre d' that we are Polish and we are wondering if Ms Buczynska is at the helm tonight.

She is! And right away, Chef Buczynska comes out to talk to us. From there, it's uphill all the way.

She is of Bee's and my daughters' generation. First came to Naples at the turn of the century. She fell in love with the city and decided to come back eventually, after completing her culinary education back home, and start cooking professionally here, in Naples. Seriously so. Within a few years she worked her way up to this elevated position and she has had tremendous success in a city that is known for excellent cooking and fabulous restaurants. (Top Ragu in Campania? Oh heavens, it doesn't get higher than that!) How does she do it? "I have a stable client base and they keep coming back." 

We can see why!

She tells us the specials of the day and when the maitre d comes to take our order, we say -- we want the two dishes recommended by the chef! Both the soup and the main course!

Within minutes, Chef Buczynska is back at our table. You come all this way and you both want the same thing? How can you sample the full range of what you can have here? Let me split some of the dishes between the two of you. You should taste more than what you just ordered.

And so we leave it all in her hands. Give us small portions of whatever you think is special.

And she does.

I cannot say what the highlights were. Pumpkin soup with black truffle from Piedmont which she generously shreds for us? 

Or, the eggplant dish with gently stewed onions? The risotto with lemon and seafood? The pork filets over a beet and tomato sauce? Was it even tomato? Something else? How about the totally famous Neapolitan Ragu -- only this one served with three delicate fried meatballs made of dark pig meat? Do you know how long a Neapolitan cooks her ragu? The standard is more than 12 hours. She cooks hers for 16. (Some photos of this are on my Flickr account if you are a curious foodie.) And can I ever forget the dessert trio, with the chocolate cake and pumpkin sauce? Or the macaron tiramisu? Or lemon baby tart in this land of delicious lemons?

All served with a lovely regional red wine.

We were very impressed by many things actually. By Chef Buczynska's knowledge of food of course. By her graciousness toward us -- these two guests from Poland who showed up at her door full of awe and expectation. She came out with each new dish, and then I would watch her move seamlessly around the room, greeting others, making eating suggestions to some. And we were impressed by the intimate room that was neither too stuffy nor too casual. 

We ate extremely well tonight! If ever you come to Naples, book a table (you can not get in otherwise). And enjoy this gifted chef's creations!

We stumbled home and called it a day after.

With so much love...