Day Two in Italy began when I heard loud voices early in the morning, yelling about something. It took a few minutes to pinpoint the source. Two men were angrily shouting at each other directly across the street from Younger Daughter's apartment in front of a (closed) pub. One man looked positively ready to come to blows, yet probably they were merely discussing the latest soccer game or something equally innocuous.
The gesturing is what tickled me. All day, everywhere we went, people were gesturing. It really is an integral part of the Italian language. I saw a couple of "nonnas" (grandmotherly women) strolling along together, having an animated conversation while waving wildly. Many, many times I saw men talking on their phones, arms moving like crazy even though the other party clearly couldn't see them. It was great.
Younger Daughter and I took an early-morning walk to a small nearby grocery store. I noted the pasta aisle was extraordinarily well-stocked.
Aaaaand they had pizza-flavored Pringles. Well, why not?
As we went through the aisles of this tiny grocery store, the woman who was stocking the produce in the front of the store kept up a loud and animated conversation with the meat-department clerk at the back of the store, and their good-natured shouting was just part of the atmosphere.
The day's adventures involved sights in Naples. I mistakenly thought Younger Daughter lived in Naples itself, but she lives in Lago Patria, a separate city. Naples is much larger, around two million people, and when I say it had sights to see, that is engaging in the drollest understatement. It was packed with things to see.
Once again Younger Daughter provided proof of her remarkable driving skills, because let me tell you, Neapolitan traffic is something else. There are no lanes. Seriously, drivers just go any-which-way, motorcycles zip in and out between cars, and pedestrians simply dash across streets whenever they please. How people don't get killed on a routine basis is astounding ... yet they don't. "Somehow it works," Younger Daughter said, and she's right.
The one dominant architectural feature I noticed among the buildings were tiny balconies, many with laundry draped to dry.
As we made our way toward a public parking lot (which, miraculously, had one free spot available), we saw a very polite protest of some sort in action.
In a park alongside the water, I noted a tent, presumably of a homeless person. Unlike American cities, we saw very little homelessness in Naples.
Along the waterfront, we saw the imposing "Egg Castle" (so named for a legend about a magical egg supporting its foundation), but didn't explore it.
We parked and started walking toward downtown Naples. In passing this little memorial park...
...we chuckled over the sheer amount of pigeon droppings on the heroic figure's head.
As with yesterday's excursion to Pozzuoli, we saw alleys. I don't know why they fascinated me, but they did. We passed dozens, and it was like they were enchanted paths leading toward mysterious parts. So forgive me if I show probably waaaaaay more alleys than you want to see.
Oh, and I finally got my coveted shot of ... cobblestones.
While waiting at a street corner to cross, Younger Daughter pointed out a figure entwined on a lamp post. There were architectural details like this everywhere we went.
I don't think I've ever seen such a vibrant and alive city. The ground floor of every building had shops selling an enormous variety of goods, and all seemed to be profitable. There were thousands of pedestrians.
There was also graffiti everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Churches. Businesses. Apartment buildings. Stores. Light posts. If it was vertical, it had graffiti on it. Younger Daughter says Naples has been described as a "beautiful woman with dirty feet," and that's accurate.
Yet, as with the abundant trash, somehow Naples' "dirty feet" works. It's just part of the street-level life.
We made our way deeper into the downtown, gawking at the beautiful buildings. Well, *I* was gawking, and both Younger and Older Daughter kept an eye on me to make sure I didn't fall behind and lose them as I snapped photos.
We started passing street vendors selling everything from knock-off designer handbags to jewelry to street food to yard-sale stuff. These figurines on one table caught my eye, presumably representing sinners enduring the torments of hell. I'm at a loss to understand why anyone would care to display these in their home, but maybe I'm misreading the popularity of the market.
We wound our way deeper into Naples' downtown. The streets were crowded with people. No wonder all those little shops were doing so well. These (mostly) weren't tourists. These were just Neapolitan citizens going about their business.
It was interesting to note that with most of the buildings, which faced each other so closely across streets and alleys, had center courtyards where people resided, worked, parked, or otherwise lived. Many of the entrances to these courtyards has massive (as in, at least 15 feet tall) doors that could be closed off.
We were heading for something informally called Christmas Alley, where Nativity-themed goods were sold.
My parents gave me an Italian Nativity scene in the late 1980s, and it remains one of my most cherished gifts. One of my planned souvenir purchases on this trip was going to be a single figurine to add to my original collection, and Christmas Alley was the place to find it.
It was on this excursion that we made an interesting discovery. There were churches – stunning, magnificent, ornate churches – down every alley and tucked in odd corners. According to a search engine, there are at least 500 such buildings to be found in the city.
We stumbled across one such treasure in Christmas Alley, the church of San Gregorio Armeno ("St. Gregory the Armenian").
As with so many Italian churches, every inch of this historic structure was astounding.
The ceiling was nothing short of a masterpiece.
Over and over again, we stumbled across treasures like this.
We slowly made our way up Christmas Alley, poking into various shops. We noted with amusement some creative creches built into old television sets.
Several businesses assured customers their wares were made in Naples, not China. They were right. We saw several shop owners busily hand-painting pre-cast locally made pottery figurines.
Included in the vast selection was this one figurine that was so startling and somehow so representative of Naples' earthy mindset that I couldn't resist taking a photo. (Yes, the man is doing exactly what it looks like he's doing.)
Finally I made my selection, a humble water-bearer. He is the right size to match the rest of my original Nativity, and will be a welcome addition.
We finished traversing the length of Christmas Alley and made our way to our next destination: La Neapolis Sotterrata, the Underground City.
This is a remarkable complex located, as the name implies, underneath Naples. The portion we visited were the ruins of a Roman marketplace located beneath the San Lorenzo Maggiore Basilica. Apparently it was first discovered in Medieval times when monks – digging to install a wine cellar – punched through the walls and realized their "wine cellar" was already built, thanks to the Greeks and Romans who came before them. Over the centuries, more and more underground complexes were excavated and reinforced as needed.
Our self-guided tour started in the Basilica's cloister courtyard, with a (dry) well in the center.
The well had a stout metal grate installed over the top, and it was a good thing, too. Younger Daughter gave me a coin (worth about 10 cents) to drop into the well. It must have fallen a good 50 feet or more before we heard it hit bottom.
Next, we stepped into the Chapter Hall.
This was a remarkable chamber painted with the portraits of the monks in residence in1608, as well as missionary friars and scholars, some of whom rose to the ranks of cardinals, popes, and saints.
We noted with amusement what looked like Scotch tape holding things together in some areas, but which Younger Daughter informed us was actually a highly specialized adhesive tape meant to maintain the paint structure until restorations could be made.
Then we made our way down a modest and unobtrusive staircase...
...into the ancient city below.
Well, it was amazing. The first thing we saw was an old Roman road. The white pavement stones were an aid to help people navigate the streets at nighttime.
This was a laundromat, so to speak.
The sign said it was "Shop where clothes were washed and cleaned."
We passed stalls for bakeries, fishmongers, and other unknown vendors. We even passed a shallow rectangular depression in the floor apparently designed for a small fishpond for wealthy homes; a koi pond, if you will.
This staircase was apparently the first place the Medieval monks punched through the walls, and the chamber was where they stored their wine.
After a leisurely exploration of this remarkable excavation, we emerged blinking into a conveniently placed gift shop with loads of overpriced jewelry. We thanked the helpful clerk for his interest in our wallets but declined to make any purchases.
Outside the church was an intersection of busy streets (mostly pedestrian), dominated on one side by the Basilica of San Paolo Maggiore.
We decided to see the inside of the Basilica.
But first we paused halfway up the steps to the church because it gave us a bird's eye view of the remarkable street scene below, which had something of the air of a carnival.
This was merely a Friday afternoon in March; what must it be like during the height of tourist season?
I thought this street was for pedestrians only, but I was wrong. Once in a while, a vehicle would carefully push its way through the crowds.
As always, the narrow alleyways offered a glimpse of the dense Neapolitan life.
We must have hung over the balustrade for 15 minutes, watching the scene below us, until we finally ascended the rest of the steps and made our way into the church.
It was, predictably, stunning.
We walked around in a state of reverent awe, gaping at the beauty.
To the right of the altar was an effigy of Saint Andrew Avellino, presumably with his body entombed below.
After this brief exploration of the basilica, we left and returned to the raucous streets.
By this point we were starving, so we settled for a pizzeria on a corner immediately adjacent to the basilica.
Tucked into an alley between the basilica and the restaurant was this unusual stonework. I believe it was the entrance to another part of the Naples Underground, especially since a group of people were standing nearby as if awaiting the beginning of a tour.
Lunch was a riot. The pizza was great, of course; but more than that, we were cheek-by-jowl with the wild craziness that apparently is just daily street life in Naples.
(By the way, those are bottles of water, not wine.)
After lunch and soaking in the atmosphere, we proceeded to our next destination, with me photographing alleyways like a compulsive idiot as we went. What can I say, I found them fascinating.
At one point we diverted into an inner courtyard which had it all: Tiny shops, itty bitty cars jammed into impossibly cramped parking, and residential quarters above.
Later we stepped into yet another courtyard (understand these are all open to the street – we weren't trespassing) and gaped upward at the narrow opening among the apartments, with a "coffin elevator" (upper left) taking residents to the higher floors.
Back on the street, Older Daughter stopped to admire some avante-garde artwork.
While the style wasn't my cup of tea, even I had to admit the artist was talented. Besides, he was painting them right there on site.
She ended up purchasing a small original painting for about 5 euros.
Our next destination was the venerable Galleria Umberto I. On the way, I snapped a picture of this random bit of stonework.
The Galleria Umberto is one of the world's oldest "shopping malls" (construction finished in 1890), designed "to combine businesses, shops, caf̩s and social life Рpublic space Рwith private space in the apartments on the third floor," according to Wikipedia.
Needless to say, it was gorgeous.
We noted it had a McDonald's, because of course it did.
The center of the galleria had mosaics depicting the signs of the zodiac. Here's my sign, Virgo.
Surprisingly, after the intense bustle of street-level Naples, the galleria was calm and even half-empty. The busiest spot was where we stopped for tiny cups of ginseng tea (with little spoons that are not designed for left-handed people).
There were some seriously aggressive pigeons here. At a nearby table, one flew down, deliberately upset a platter of snacks, and began gorging right in front of the customers. Cheeky bugger (as the English might say).
Immediately across the street from the galleria was the magnificent San Carlo Opera House. Younger Daughter has attended one or two performances here, and she says it's worth going to see the interior architecture if nothing else. Sadly, we won't have that opportunity.
The last thing we saw on this remarkable excursion was the Castel Nuovo ("New Castle") near the harbor.
I don't know about you, but just having a castle in town seemed extraordinary. They're as common as can be for Europeans, I know. But for Americans? Wow. Just ... wow.
First constructed in 1279-82, a more modern "triumphal arch" was added in 1470.
This was an honest-to-goodness battle fortress, built to withstand anything Medieval warfare could throw at it.
The now-empty (except for construction equipment) moat could be filled with seawater to a depth of, I dunno, forty feet or so.
The ramparts even had arrow slits.
Younger Daughter pointed out how one section of the moat wall had been mended with recycled Roman bricks at some point. Waste not, want not.
We were told on good authority that the inside of the castle was actually less interesting than the outside, so we didn't try for a tour. Besides, by this point we were fairly wiped.
Incidentally, rumor has it that this massive splatter (visible in the center-left of the above photograph) was from a World War II munitions strike of some sort. Notably, the castle wall withstood it.
As Younger Daughter navigated us out of the city, I saw a thick plume of black smoke some distance away.
I looked it up later, and it appears "a fire broke out in the area of the Fuorigrotta market, creating a thick
column of smoke visible from various points in the city" (according to an AI-generated translation).
So that was our day in Naples.
We returned to Younger Daughter's apartment and pretty much vegged the rest of the evening, making dinner and having a modest glass of wine.
Tomorrow will be an exciting day: Herculaneum!
