Naples, The City by the Sea
After my incident in Domodossola (that you can read about here) I was sent into a whirlwind of mixed emotions. I thought about the truths that I learned the entire way to Rome and when I arrived and checked into my hotel, I was still so very held captive to the feeling of not knowing enough. I wanted to be next to the water, an ocean. I didn’t have enough time to spend on the Amalfi coast or even somewhere near Palermo so I set my eyes on the next best thing, Naples.
Two nights had gone by and I had no idea how I would make it to Naples from Rome. I went to the train station and to my surprise found a map that had the entire country of Italy on it and the distances to the closest most popular cities to Rome. Surprisingly, Naples was about 150 Kilometers away and I could get there in about an hour with the high-speed train. I didn’t care how much the ticket costs or how full it was. I made the decision to spend three days in Naples and really think about what had happened in Domodossola amongst many other things that I had floating around in my head. When I arrived though, I was consumed by the city, its views and the way the people lived their lives.
Arrival at the Naples Street Markets
The people were mostly friendly, save the overweight street peddler who kept trying to convince me that I needed a white socks and T-shirt combination for ten euro. Its natural at these types of markets for vendors to attempt to coerce their would-be customers into buying their product. It was for that reason that I didn’t mind it for a while and politely said thank you but I wasn’t interested. After that he began to insult me, with a little English here and a lot of Italian there. I kept on walking after that through the crowded market place.
As I walked up this street and down this lane, I witnessed hundreds of street stalls each of them selling some form of socks, T-shirt or something that they got from bulk from some vendor from China. I saw an individual who picked up on me very quickly and knew I wasn’t local. She asked me what I was doing here and I felt the urge to tell her the truth. I felt the urge to tell her about what happened to me at Domodossola and that I wanted to know more and that I was here in Naples to be closer to the water in order to digest what had happened. She looked at me as if she expected the story that I had. I knew something was different about her. She had the same look in her eyes that the Polizia had when they were checking my passport. I didn’t know if I could handle another trip down that rabbit hole. It was, could have been, an invitation to swallow the red pill. I wasn’t sure I was up for it. I told her that I was just visiting. “Just visiting?” she said. “I guess you can say we all kinda are” with a smile on her face. I knew what she meant. I turned to walk away and she told me that this market place had been here for over eight hundred years as a result of the very many sailors that arrive from the port of Naples. I believed her naturally.
Onward to The Latin Quarter
I had to use the bath room and I was hungry. I grew border of the cheap underwear and Chinese made trinkets that all of the many vendors were selling. I needed an escape and a place to relieve myself. I managed to find a street without vendors amongst the endless ocean of street vendors and decided to follow that. I walked for roughly thirty or thirty-five minutes and made a right going a up a hill that seemed endless. Desperately, I searched for a place I could enter with an open toilet for me but to no avail. Every little shop seemed to be selling some cheap second-hand clothes and didn’t have available toilets for customers. I continued the struggle up the hill only to be met with an ocean of tourist walking west to east and vice versa on what seemed to be a main street at the top of the hill. I took a right as I always do when I’m on an unknown street without a real sense of direction.
Along the way I finally found a place to eat that had a small bathroom available to paying customers, those exact words, “paying customers” printed in English and Italian above the entrance. I bought a fried slice of pizza, yeah, you read correctly, fried pizza that was the best thing I had tasted in the last month. It costed all of three euro and fifty cents. It wasn’t the healthiest thing to eat but it did fill me up enough to continue the walk to the ocean where I was on a mission to. Along the way I caught eye contact with a few Italians, most of which didn’t speak any English. That didn’t stop them from communicating with me telepathically it seemed. “Take my picture while I sit here, its ok.” one would say. “I’ve been playing this instrument in the same place for one hundreds and fifty years. I invented this instrument” another would say. I know it sounds strange buts its true.
On a small alley a woman plays her instrument while speaking to me telepathically.
A gentlemen asked me to take his photograph as he sits calmly outside of his store.
After about twenty minutes or so of walking I finally made it to the Latin quarter of the city. It was necessary to walk all the way up and through tin order to arrive at the ocean. I walked through and was amazed at the close quarters that these people live in. This corner and that corner seemed to be occupied with people. Apparently, there was no such thing as drying machines for clothes around these parts. I later found out that it was customary to hang your washed clothes on lines outside of the small apartments. No matter the season or the weather. In fact you could purchase a plastic covering that would actually shield your clothes from rain should it happen. I needed another ten minutes or so until I finally arrived at the ocean. It was worth the long walk. What a sight.
Atop Castel Sankt Elmo
The view to the Mediterranean Sea from the northern most part of the Latin Quarter was stunning. I sat there for a while admiring the endless ocean in one direction and the mountain ranges on the other side. I found a rail that was situated on the other side of the street where I was standing and hung out there for a while until my bladder started acting up again. I was much luckier this time than I was previously as there was a small two-star hotel right across from where I was standing. I walked in and to my surprise was greeted by a concierge. He had that look in his eye. The same one from the lady I met at the market and the Polizia in Domodossola. “Hello our friend!” he said with a wink in his eye. “Hello you three”. I said back. “This is not the best view of the Sea that you want to go to.” He said. “Leave here and to the right, less than fifteen minutes walking there is Castel Sankt Elmo” he went on. “Walk to it, you pay six euro and go in and all the way to the top.” He continued. “And you thank us later.” I thanked him for the tip and went on my way. “I said thank us later.” He said.
View from atop the Latin Quarter.
After thirty minutes of walking up what seemed to be a never-ending hill, getting lost, dipping into the bushes to pee, and taking off my sweater to tie it around my waist, I finally saw the light at the top of the hill which was Castel Sankt Elmo. The concierge was correct, more than correct. He had understated the view. It was more than breath taking atop the Castel. In fact it almost looked like another world, and under the watery, it probably was. I had one roll of film left for my camera. I expended it all while I was there. In total, I stayed four hours sitting atop the Castel Sankt Elmo wondering what was deeper into the watery abyss of the Mediterranean Sea. Then I whispered under my breath “Thanks again you three.”
