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Sure, it’s a tough town - large European port cities generally are. But “See Naples and Die” isn’t a phrase coined by some luckless travel writer who found herself on the wrong side of the tracks. The quote is attributed to Goethe, the 18th-century German writer. What he meant was, once you’ve seen the magnificence of Naples, there’s nothing left in the world to see. Of course, since Goethe’s day, much of that magnificence has sunk into a parlous state. But it seems unfair that his phrase has become a twisted allusion to Naples’ later history of crime and Mafia corruption. A Reformed Character Much has changed since my last visit. Nowadays, property prices in posh districts like Vomero nearly match those in Milan. Yes, the litter and pollution of the inner city is almost as bad, but Naples has cleaned up its act in a big way. No doubt the Camorra (an arm of the Mafia) is still active, but I felt relaxed wandering the historic center’s labyrinthine alleys. Plenty of police on the beat, no sign of pickpocket gangs. The tourist office has even sign-posted an “Art Trail” through the dimly lit Centro Storico. If you follow the main drag, three arrow-straight alleyways collectively known as Spaccanapoli, there’s nothing likely to set your nerves jangling. But it’s still as well to act sensibly - I left documents, credit cards, and most of my money in the hotel safe. And watch for cars and motorcycles. Parts of Spaccanapoli are supposedly “pedestrian only,” but you’re in Naples. Traffic-free means nothing. Anarchic locals regard any notice forbidding them to do something as an open invitation to break the rules. Spaccanapoli’s Sensual Feast Maniac motorists aside, wandering Spaccanapoli is an experience for all the senses. Part treat, part tribulation. Made up of the streets of Benedetto Croce, San Biagio del Librai, and Vecchia Giudecca, this is the belly of Naples. It survives from the days when Naples was the Greek settlement of Neapolis (the new city). Spaccanapoli means “Naples-Splitter” - and that’s exactly what it does - splits this clamorous city asunder. Old Naples
has an incredible number of churches and chapels, but they’re not the real
reason to explore. More than anything else, Spaccanapoli gives an insight
into what it must be like to live among urban chaos at its most extreme.
Washing flaps from everywhere; radios blare full blast; people shout rather
than talk.
A strong whiff of espresso spilling from tiny bars...the earthy scent of roasting chestnuts...some unpleasantly odorous drains. Dog mess and pigeon splatters. You see baskets of provisions being hauled up by rope to the top floor of grimy tenements...kids playing soccer in the street. Here a butcher’s...a lingerie store...a pizzeria with wood oven glowing red...a bakery where the owner offers me a morsel of lemon cake to taste. Another free sample of limoncello liqueur in a grocery store - I doubt you’ll find it any cheaper than in the back streets of Naples. Full-size bottles sell for $6. I started off at Spaccanapoli’s more seedy eastern end, where via Vecchia Giudecca joins via Forcella. Known as “the Devil’s Fork,” 20 years ago this was a no-go area for tourists. Even today, guidebooks give it cursory mention - if they mention it at all. It didn’t feel threatening to me, but I saw few other foreigners along this section. Make no mistake about it, people at this end of Spaccanapoli still live in slum conditions. I haven’t encountered anything remotely similar since Palermo in Sicily. These mean streets of medieval tenement housing make it easy to understand why Naples had a cholera outbreak in 1973. Within seconds of entering the quarter, I was offered cut-price cigarettes. Undoubtedly contraband - the signs on the packets indicated they came from Poland. A guy on a Vespa tried flogging me a cell-phone that I guessed he hadn’t come by honestly. In Your Dreams... Once you reach
the Doll’s Hospital and the via San Biagio del Librai segment of Spaccanapoli,
things start feeling less edgy—and the faces seem less careworn. Now there
are second-hand book stalls and shops stocked with all kinds of religious
paraphernalia: rosary beads, statues of Padre Pio and the Madonna, carvings
of Souls in Purgatory burning for their sins within painted crimson flames.
There are flower-sellers, shops selling buffalo mozzarella cheese, funeral
parlors, ice-cream parlors, fishmongers, and more chestnut sellers. And,
of course, tabacchi - tobacconists that usually double as lottery outlets.
Presepi making dates back to at least the 11th century. Traditionally constructed from cork, moss, and olive wood, some cribs are huge. They take the form of entire villages with shop-lined streets, bridges, and houses climbing up a cave-riddled hillside. Ranging from $30 to more than $200, some “villages” have moving mechanical parts which can turn waterwheels, cause a stream to flow, or make a laundry-woman’s sheet plunge up and down in a wash-tub. Thousands of painted terracotta figures are also sold. Not just of the holy family, shepherds, and wise men, but also shopkeepers, craftsmen, and village characters such as milkmaids, woodcutters, and hunters. This gives an opportunity to create a unique pastoral scene, and prices for small figures start at 75 cents. For added authenticity, you can complete a tableau with items such as miniature baskets of fruit, sacks of beans and grain, hams, cheeses, caged piglets, and boxes of silver fish. Caressing A Skull Before returning to Spaccanapoli, wander along via Tribunali to the Church of Santa Maria delle Anime del Purgatorio ad Arco. You can’t miss it: outside are three columns topped with bronze skulls and femur bones. Elderly passers-by stop to caress each skull before crossing themselves. As the name suggests, the church is dedicated to Souls in Purgatory. For all its vitality, Naples has a morbid side. Below the church is a vault containing the bones of paupers who couldn’t afford a burial. Until 1980, when the ecclesiastical authorities ended the macabre practice, people “adopted” bones and prayed for the repose of their unknown owners. In return, they expected the dead to grant them favors. (The vault is open to visitors on Saturdays between 10 a.m. and 1 p.m.) Magic...superstition...religious fervor. I didn’t have enough time for any catacombs - the city is riven with them - but I saw numerous wall shines. They usually adorn the corners of dim vicolos (even narrower alleys). Festooned in flowers, some are standard shrines to saints; others have a darker feel as they’re dedicated to all those poor Souls in Purgatory. The last section
of Spaccanapoli, via Benedetto Croce, seems almost gentrified after what’s
gone before. It starts off at Piazza San Domenico Maggiore, where Gran
Caffe Aragonese is a great place for a coffee break. Before tackling the
stunning majolica-tiled cloisters of Santa Chiara and shopping for limoncello,
soak up some sunlight. Spaccanapoli’s alleys are so narrow, the tenements
so tall, it’s surprising its citizens don’t all resemble ghosts.
Reaching Pompeii from Naples is easy. Trains ($2.90 each way) leave from both Circumvesuviana station on Corso Garibaldi and Stazione Centrale on Piazza Garibaldi. Don’t get off at Pompeii - this is the stop for the modern town rather than the ruins. The station you want is Pompeii Scavi, only 50 yards from the site’s main entrance. Admission is $12.50. Vesuvius is unpredictable - the ever-reliable Goethe called it “a peak of Hell rising out of Paradise.” 79 A.D.’s infamous eruption hasn’t been the only one. Believing the volcano was sleeping, medieval farmers were seduced by the highly-fertile soil which produces some of the best tomatoes you’ll ever taste. They planted vineyards and fields on its slopes almost as far as the summit. Then, in 1631, another major eruption devastated a huge area between the volcano and the sea. It went quiet again until 1944, when a blast blew the top off the mountain. Vesuvius has been slumbering ever since, but vulcanologists predict that another eruption will surely come. Blithely ignoring the lessons of the past, more than 600,000 people live on and around Vesuvius today. The government has offered each family $37,700 to relocate from the danger zone. Only around 2,500 have taken up the offer. Where To Stay - And Where Not To Naples still has its rough parts. Although the cheapest hotels are around Piazza Garibaldi and the Central Station, I’d never stay here. The noise and traffic are as horrendous as it gets - picture trying to cross a road with traffic coming at you from four directions and not a single pedestrian crossing. Plus it’s haunted by some very unsavory-looking characters. Drug addicts...glue sniffers. Coming out of the station, the stench of glue almost knocked me sideways. A $8 taxi ride from the historic center, the Santa Lucia quarter adjoins the waterfront. With Capri and Vesuvius in the background, the neighborhood is safe and fairly quiet. (Naples doesn’t do total silence.) Plus there are some excellent restaurants in the vicinity. It was a treat to walk down to the waterfront and ponder the legend of Castel del Ovo, the Castle of the Egg. As the stocky castle doesn’t look remotely egg-shaped, you may wonder how it got its name. Magic is never far below the surface in Naples - it’s widely believed the Roman poet Virgil placed an egg somewhere below the castle. Virgil was also said to dabble in sorcery: as long as his supernatural egg survives, so will Naples. Booked through www.itwg.com I stayed at the three-star Hotel Rex. The breakfast is nothing ecstatic (Italian breakfasts rarely are) and here it’s actually served in your room. Rooms are clean and guests can use the lobby’s Internet point for free. Doubles in October cost $140. Hotel Rex, Via Palepoli 12, Napoli 80132; tel. (39)081-764-9389; fax (39)081-764-9227. A Word Of Warning - Don’t Get Ripped Off Going from Napoli airport to Hotel Rex, I was over-charged by the taxi driver. I didn’t realize at the time, but he took me on a lengthy roundabout route. Although fares rise at night, it should have cost more like $25 than $40. On the way back, I braved Piazza Garibaldi’s horrors and caught the airport bus. Reaching the airport took less than 15 minutes and only cost $3.70. In many places you can eat well for less than $25. Pasta starters are often less than $6, you can have sea bass for $12.50, and a jug of house wine for another $6. But be careful. I’m not suggesting all Neapolitans try to pull a fast one, but always watch bills. It’s strange how a wine priced at $12.50 on the menu gets marked up to $15 when you get your bill. Or how you get charged for some starter you never had. If you think you’ve been overcharged, point it out. Insist on viewing the menu again if necessary. You’ll be charged
a cover (usually $1.80 to $2.50 each) for the privilege of sitting at a
table and getting a basket of bread. This is normal, not sharp practice.
But another thing to watch for is a compulsory service charge - some restaurants
automatically add 13% to 15% to your bill.
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