Sunday, 20 July 2014

Grazie Napoli


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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