from Naples to the farmette

Here's a solid truth: Naples was so intense! I can think of a number of reasons for it. First of all, I feel that Neapolitans are intense. There's no messing with them -- they are in charge. So friendly! But they look out for their own. Ask for help and you'll get more than what you need. But don't push, or they will push back hard. 

Then, too, the weather was intense. I need not go over that -- you saw it up and down my Ocean posts. Neapolitans slapped on their caps, hid behind scarves and hurried to get out of the rain. If the weather was a bother for me, it was an outright menace for them. Families hid their children. People didn't go out if they didn't have to. 

And of course, seeing Bee after an almost three and a half year hiatus was, for me, intense, in all the good ways, because spending time with her is always good.

Finally, the food: so much doughy stuff, so much sugar, such big portions! I couldn't quite get the hang of eating here. Three meals was too much, but it seemed impossible to eat less. In essence, I was never hungry.

I had five days and five nights here, though of course, two of those days were really in Rome. I slept too little and walked a ton. Intense!

This morning, I set my internal clock to mind the time. I have to get into a cab by 10 or I'll be scrambling to catch my 12:20 flight to Paris. But leaving at 10 does mean that I have a solid morning in Naples. A solid sunny morning in Naples. I mean, really! Did the sun have to come out just as I am leaving??

(From my room, before dawn: the sun rises from behind the Amalfi coast...)

(a few minutes later...)

Breakfast. Alone this time and no lingering allowed! If I want a Neapolitan walk, I need to speed things up a bit. And who am I kidding -- I don't want healthy or wholesome, I want one last fling with the sweet stuff here. So, let's see.... How about the apple cake which probably has more egg yolks per bite than a soufflé? 

And one of my favs here -- that leafy pastry with the pastry cream inside. Fine, add some fruit and a yogurt. And a cappuccino. They do make a good cappuccino...

Now for my morning walk. But where to? The sky is so blue, the air getting to be so warm... For the first time I shed my sweater and just stick with my light jacket.

I'm going for the main shopping drag -- Via Toledo -- just because that's where I started. And it's good for people watching. With umbrellas tucked away for good, I can now see faces and catch the tail ends of conversations (they do not have quiet voices here).

(Did I mention that Neapolitans are risk takers?! Perfect place to keep a bike helmet, don't you think?)

I cross the Piazza del Plebiscito. At this early hour, this traffic-free square appears to be used as a dog park: they meet, they chat, the dogs are let loose.

... to make friends with other dogs, with whom they start a loud conversation.

I pass by the Gambrinus Caffe. All those Neapolitan croissants! I think they claim they invented this pastry. But they don't just let it be: they stuff it, sprinkle it, glaze it. Yeah, I'm tempted. But, I've done my Neapolitan indulgence. I move on.

And now I pass those countless cafe bars where people meet up to talk and gesture and express themselves as only the southerners in Italy can.

Actually, you do not need a cafe bar. A conversation in the middle of the sidewalk will do.

There are a number of interesting side streets. The laundry is there, but this time with a promise that it will actually dry.

Looking this way, you see Vesuvius. Never too far away to have you forget that nature can be mean toward those who don't live by its rules (that would be most of us).

Ah, Naples... So full of everything!

Okay, time to head back. In a hurry now. As is everyone else here, all the time.

Well, I guess not everyone. These guys remind me of the ice fishermen back home. Same idea. Camaraderie, quiet. Probably more of a catch here. I'd eat what they bring in! (Can't say the same about stuff hauled in from Lake Waubesa...)

Fine, I need to include a last photo of Vesuvius. Naples lives in its shadow. That sounds like a writer's cliché but in this case I think it's true. Naples, Pompeii, Amalfi Coast -- in a sense they re all one, for reasons of tourism, but, too, in shaping the Neapolitan identity.

(Amalfi coast -- we meant to wander its staggered alleys, but of course, the weather stopped us. Admire it from this poster in a local cafe!)

One more quick detour -- to the Castle dell'Ovo, just across a strip of water from my hotel. I thought I'd have time to climb its ramparts, but I couldn't find the entrance to them. I admit I did not try hard. Time was running out.

A look back toward my sweet old hotel -- such pleasant, accommodating people! Such clean rooms! Such great views!

What's my last photo from Naples? Coincidentally, it's of a cat. He's waiting for a seaside restaurant to open for lunch. Cats love seaside restaurants. Our herd of six back at the farmette would feel happy here!

And that's it! I pick up my suitcase and take a cab to the airport. The driver curses the traffic, but I'm okay with it. It's Naples. The airport is close. And small. We're good.

The Air France flight takes off on time for Paris. I have a somewhat short layover there, but with enough time to browse and pick up a box of chocolates for Ed. It is Valentine's Day soon, isn't it? Oddly, as I approach the departure gate, forty minutes before take off, I find not a single passenger there. Wait, did I miss something? Did I mess up the time? The agent tells me -- you're the last one. They're all on board. Never, and I really mean never do I recall pre boarding everyone this early at CDG! Well, no matter. I'm not late, the flight takes off at its scheduled hour. 

It's a long flight to Minneapolis, and then another layover, and finally another short flight -- to Madison, and now I am home. Hi Ed! Did you miss me?? Of course, gorgeous.

With so much love...

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...