I have an over active
imagination. It keeps me up most nights, causes me to miss vital conversation
or directions, teachings or ques and over the years has found me in many a
troublesome situation. I often catch it wandering off on unsupervised missions,
into both dark and beautiful places; but no matter how beautiful a place there
are some destinations minds should just not go.
It is not an uncommon experience, for my
mind, to create stories, with actual characters, conversations and
consequences, so believable that my heart actually entrusts in them. I’m not
sure which is silliest. My heart or my head. My head for making these fabrications
up in the first place, or my heart for falling for them so deeply, truly and
madly. Either way, this is what happens. VERY OFTEN.
It can be quite
disappointing, let me tell you, when your impossible, unconceivable dreams
don’t pan out the way your heart needed them to. It doesn’t really matter how
far off base they were, how fleeting or detrimental. I had already created this
picture, this place, this conversation or emotion and fallen in love with it. So
now it must unfold in due course.
And so when I find
myself tracing the streets of dreamt about cities, towns, countries and
continents, there is A LOT to live up to. There is a lot of past sleepless
nights depending on it.
You might not be
surprised to hear that many places don’t fit the demand. It’s not to say I
don’t love them anyway. If my over imaginative head is my pitfall, my resilient
head is my strong point (and so it would need to be). When one place fails,
another triumphs all imagination and hopes. What might disappoint me in one
town, might lead to something unknown and beautiful right around the corner.
Although I digress, the point been made (incase you couldn’t follow) is that
most places, aren’t quite how I pictured them.
Have you ever seen
somewhere grand or magical on a movie, maybe the Eiffel tower, or Empire State
Building, maybe a simple park or set of a film, and then re watched the movie
after being there, to find it slightly less magical and grand? I have.
Suddenly, unreachable things, feel quite amateur once they’ve been
accomplished.
Alas to get finally
get to my real point, as the stage of high hopes and expectations has been set:
I am currently in Naples. This is a place for me, that has been read upon,
researched, and heavily dreamt about. I had a pretty clear picture of what I
expected of this city, its imperfection and flaws, its rugged mafia rawness.
Its diamond in the rough locations and overwhelming chaos that ensues you
across the humongous city. And it is every bit of what I thought it would be.
Right down to the giant three euro deliciousness of each and every meal.
I was prepared. I was
prepared for slight madness, for looks of despise and lost manners. For hoodlum
children and rubbished streets. I had been told on many accounts that food was
incredible, cheap, even orgasmic. The traffic impossible, the nights dangerous.
That there were beautiful fireworks that filled the nights darkened skies when
a member of the mafia was released from prison.
ALL TRUE.
We quickly learnt,
that whilst hitting the pavement, motor vehicles did not have the right to the
road. In fact it was every man for himself. By foot, bus, car, scooter,
motorbike or tram. All sharing the same space, with no lines, at the same time.
Ready, set, go, all of you, all at once.
And that usually if you just strode right out in front of on coming traffic, be
it a scooter or bus, they would usually stop or weave around you. Hell one guy,
whom I rudely stepped out in front of even slammed on his breaks, as I pulled
back, and pleasantly waved me through like a gentleman opening a door for a
perfect lady while the traffic backed up behind him angrily.
Although beware the same rules apply for
what you might consider a foot path; not just for those walking. Strangely easy
to get used to. I guess the confused, lost and searching tourist might find it
easy to wander wildly across the streets, left and right with no real concern
for what might be happening around you.
I also found it was
best not to take your belongings with you, for fear of getting them snatched. I
had read countless warnings about pick-pocketing or out right bag snatching in
the city of Naploi. In fact our bed and breakfast host, in a
not-so-desirable-part-of-Rome warned us several times “Napoli is not so safe.
Non day non night. Many times bad”. So far my tactics to not losing loved
possessions was to take them with me in my bag, rather then leaving them
unattended in a room all day. Thus was the exception to this rule. On our first
voyage out, I had my bag propped safely under my arm with all things loved and
essential to survival only to quickly feel like an easy target walking around
with a sign on my face saying, ‘hey I’m
weak and here’s everything I need in a neat, easy to carry little parcel for
you, just reach out and grab it.’ Suffice to say, after that hike of
paranoia and startled reactions I left them locked up in our room.
Another beauty is the
straight up reality that at least 70% of the children you see, with a large age
range, will be either playing with a football or holding one. One main street
had a road off to the side with graffitied concrete barricades and a bunch of
little leaguers playing a rather heated game of football using, again
graffitied (everything has graffiti) rubbish bins as goals. Listening to them
hoot and holla, sweat soaking into their t-shirts, the seemingly angry
outbursts of Italian flying across the “field” demanded my attention, I skipped
across the road, for a closer encounter, hoping to zone in on them and their
stereotypical perfection with my camera only to realize, just in time, I was
far too afraid of getting my camera lens smashed to get that close. The un-approving
stares at my mere existence was enough to keep me moving.
And perhaps the most
beautiful stereotypes of all: the food. On a top ten list of things to do in
Naples, three are types of food of you simply must try. And so off we went in
search of the one and only famous Pizzeri L’antica Da Michele to try the pizza
that was somehow suppose to top all the rest. Now this I was truly sceptical
of. I had had some good pizza in my time and it had long been a favourite food
of mine. American pizza, was something to rave about alone. And if I do say so
myself, I make a bloody good vegetarian pizza. Plus we have spent the last 16
days in Italia eating more pizza then any one person should ever eat in 16
days. In fact we had a particularly dreamy one in Florence a week or so
earlier. And at the end of the day, its all the same few ingredients and
methods…isn’t it?
We walked the
maddening streets, crisscrossed in a lost little conundrum, before stumbling
across a long line, street side and realized we had found our destination.
After battling through the crowds to the front door to receive a ticketed
number we joined the crowd overflowing onto the street and wait for our lucky
71. Only about a 50 minute wait for midday in peak season, not bad. As each number
was called people broke out in cheering and thrilled claps as their turn arose
and after enough time it was ours. The simplicity and calmness inside delighted
me. This was a very basic, white tiled, empty walled, outdoor furniture Naploi
Pizzeria. The never ending masses of people, fame and I’m sure fortune had not
flattered that place one bit. Everyone was going about, and treating you like
it was any old restaurant in any old place. An average man came over after a
while in an average voice and asked if we wanted a margarita or marinara and
what size, we got one of each both medium (I don’t know why, complete
underestimation of size apparently) we waited amongst the slight chitter
chatter of other patrons and the scraping of knives and forks against plates
until our HUGE kind of oval gigantic pizzas arrived.
We dove in hands
first, and I was actually proud that my white outfit remained white throughout
the entire process, truly proud, like a three year old. That’s how real shit
got in there when we were arms deep into our lunch with straight up food sweats
and piles of used napkins around us. And it was officially, easily and undeniably
the best pizza I have ever had, and at four euro a pop, my lord we will be
going back for more of that doughy heaven. Once we were done, all we could
think about was a nap, had we not been so excited about the fantastic triumph
of that pizza, and I’m sure we would have had one too.
And so, I think it
would be fair to say, that my mind might still be sneaking off on unattended
missions in the future with the topic of the great Naploi, trips back in time
to relive, rather then dream of, a rather surreal and beautiful stay in Naples.
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