Naples
I’d heard about Naples, the city at the base of Vesuvius, the one that didn’t get destroyed in 79 AD. RIP Pompei. If anything, it came up in conversations about pizza. Naples is known for its pizza. But nothing and no one could have prepared me for the real deal, the fast paced, bustling, and unapologetic metropolis that is Naples in the flesh.
After visiting Naples, I will never complain about the cleanliness, or lack thereof, of another city for the rest of my life. I’ve never seen so many dogs and, in conjunction, dog poop in my life. You turn the corner, dog poop. Walk up the stairs, dog poop, on every step. It’s a miracle I made it through two days of traversing the skinny alleyways of Naples without soiling my shoes with feline fecal matter. They somewhat warned us about the infamous layer of grime and grit that laminates the streets of Naples. It’s charming, they said. Difficult to get used to, but easy to look past, they reassured. I could live there for twenty years and never get used to the smell, let alone everything else.
However, despite my rather negative first impression, I did actually find it easy to look past the poop and the trash and the dirt. Naples makes up for in color and energy what it lacks in initial charm. The palette of the city is vibrant and eye-catching. Walking around, I began to wonder whether it was stated in the building code that developers couldn’t erect a building without at least three colors in mind. Reds, yellows, and oranges seemed to make up the ruling class of this society of colors and hues. They were certainly the richest and most flamboyant. The residential buildings of Naples, which line either side of the vias, were teeming with people and life. The city was, in this way, a jungle. To accommodate for the abrasiveness of the buildings, the streets were narrow, protected by canopies of drying laundry. Every window had a balcony, which further added to this effect and kept the streets below in perpetual shade. In this way, Naples reminded me a lot of Manila. The daily life of the city’s inhabitants seemed to spill out into public space. Window shades opened directly into the street, they resembled shop windows, showcasing examples of Neapolitan kitchens.
Whereas in other cities, side streets and public spaces occupy separate areas in the urban landscape, in Naples, streets functioned as public spaces. Every street was a market, a performance, a narrow piazza. Walking down one, I felt like a lone sailor, navigating a restless sea of people. I fended off vendors who tried to sell me anything from socks to mini nativity scenes. Occasionally, I would look up at the sky just to escape, if only for a brief moment.
I managed to evade drowning in this sea of life and people when we rode the funicular up the hill to the Castel Saint Elmo. There, rising above the squirming city center like a god atop Mount Olympus, I fell in love with Naples. There, I saw the sea meet the city in a verbose dialogue. It was too beautiful to describe. Mount Vesuvius loomed over the city in the background like a back drop on a movie set. If I knew how to paint, I would have painted it.
In the end, though, I was relieved to make it back to Rome. I think it took a trip to Naples to fully appreciate the relative cleanliness and quiet of the capitol city.
Ciao,
Jacob
