Living in Naples

I’ve decided that everything I hear about Naples is true. I love it here. I also hate it here. Both equally true. But mostly I love it here. A small town crowning a tiny Italian mountain is infinitely more fascinating than a small town back home. The evening, Italy at twilight, when the Mediterranean sun has set but hasn’t finished shining, holds a magic no swarm of mosquitoes or pack of stray dogs feeding on roadside trash can truly quench. Hiking up the rim of an extinct volcano and looking over the bay of Pozzuoli, the islands of Procida and Ischia, the hydrofoils leaving for the Amalfi coast across the Bay of Naples—this is the sublime in the supreme.

But the robberies, the horror stories told and retold within the American faketown in Gricignano, are also true. A girl I work with has gotten robbed more times than I can count, likely because she is loud and has probably made enemies, so now her enemies know every time she goes out of town. I hesitate to say the gassing stories are true (allegedly thieves will gas people in their sleep so they sleep through the entire nighttime robbery), but I’m willing to believe.

And the pizza, the caffe, the sfogliatella, the seafood are to die for. And I can park at work for free and walk to the international airport. And I get gas coupons that make the astronomical European gas prices obsolete and I can drive around Italy paying what an American pays for his or her gas back home. And within eight hours of driving, I have access to 70% of the world’s art.

Ah, Naples. It’s no vacation, but it’s a chance of a lifetime. The mafia terrifies me. The gypsies terrify and fascinate me, and bother me when I park at Ikea. They stole my friend’s car when she was in it.

Napoli is a condensed Italy, an Italy without hospitality, or at least a pre-tourist Italy. Neapolitans are an intense variety of Italian, or perhaps an unconquered breed. Individuals have been extremely hospitable and friendly, but as a group they repel the casual tourist. There are very few “touristy” places in Naples. It’s for the varsity team—all others need not bother. There is treasure here for a seasoned explorer to find. It requires more than mere receptivity. You’d hope the next sentence would read “…and rewards more than the more immediately pleasing tourist destinations.” But it’s never that simple. Maybe I’ll be able to say that, eventually. Maybe not. That’s probably the wrong way to frame it, but I’ll have to let you know.