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.

Don’t be shy about having a bet on the lottery - someone will help you fill in the numbers. It didn’t do me much good, but the traditional way of choosing lottery numbers in Naples is through la Smorfia. Written by a monk, it’s basically a dream book in which various lurid visions correspond to particular numbers. For example, if you dream of a knife-wielding lunatic you should play numbers 41 and 22.

Three quarters of the way along this section of Spaccanapoli, you’ll come across a reclining statue known as the Body of Naples. It represents the god of the Nile. (This being Naples, it’s now enclosed in an incongruous shelter of plastic-topped scaffolding used by street peddlers.)  For centuries, the statue was headless - people believed it to be a goddess being suckled by cherubs representing the Nile’s tributaries. Only after its bearded head was rediscovered did they realize the statue was male. The facing church is dedicated to St. Angelo of the Nile, and you may wonder what on earth links Naples to Egypt. But there is a link - back in Nero’s day, settlers from Alexandria lived around this very spot. 

Christmas Creches

One side alley you shouldn’t miss delving down is via San Gregorio Armeno. (It links via San Biagio del Librai’s section of Spaccanapoli with via Tribuni.) Complete with dusky-pink bell tower, this is the street of Napoli’s famous presepi - Christmas creches. Work on the hand-made cribs is already well underway - listen for carpentry sounds coming from the side-alleys - but you can shop for cribs and figurines all year round.

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.

The Big Day-Trip

It has to be Pompeii. Shadowed by Vesuvius, this frozen-in-time Roman city serves as a salutary warning. Buried under ash for almost 1,600 years, Pompeii shows what may happen if you choose to live on the slopes of mainland Europe’s last active volcano. 

In 79 A.D., a Roman writer called Pliny the Younger watched the volcano’s wrath from a safe distance. His frightening account tells of sheer panic as Pompeii’s citizens tried to flee. Ox-carts and carriages caused traffic jams as they headed towards the gates. 

Covering 163 acres, Pompeii is far more than just another hotch-potch of ruins. This is a virtually intact city, once home to almost 20,000. There are streets lined with humble homes, taverns, brothels, and food takeout shops that still have their marble counter-tops. There are noble villas with frescoed walls, mosaic floors and colonnaded courtyards...theaters, public baths, and a gladiator court.

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.