How a trip can go from sheer exhuberance to feeling physical pain is never a surprise when you add up the factors: too much bread, summer, Italy, southern Italy, summer, HOT, heat – and again – too much bread. It has clearly taken me a long time to reflect on my first visit to Napoli, a city that took me to the highs of energy, inspiration, and reflection, only to depart feeling so tired and overwhelmed I needed time to process this experience.
I grew up always thinking about San Gennaro and the ritual of his liquefying blood that basically is responsible for keeping Napoli in one piece. Also hot-blooded, I busted into Napoli with so many reservations and stereotypes floating around in my mind. The usual horror stories Americans tell of winding down the wrong mandolin-soundtracked alleyway at night, getting in the thick of some local gangland feud, or, simply being pancaked by Vespa culture still shockingly reign supreme.
Ready to experience the ups and downs, we marched into town only to feel all the tired tropes melt away and embraced the instant burst of life that smacks you in the face. The train station was modern and had a Hudson News shop [hello, Penn Station?], without the piccoli scugnizzi waiting to mug us. Sure, we should have taxied to our accomodation, but walking through the area skirting the train was doable and not “dangerous.” The only dangerous thing was sweating profusely thanks to the energy-sapping heat.
We made the utterly vibrant (and so cool it does not know it is cool) Rione Sanità our home for a few days, opting to tap into the local arts community at Atelier Ines (Via dei Cristallini, 138). Ines and her husband Vincenzo are the proprietors of what can only be described as one part ‘art laboratory’ and one part B&B in a previous open-air cinema/theatre. Upon entering through the gates you immediately escape from the madness of the streets into a serene courtyard, meeting Ines’ team who transport you into an otherworldly space. The rooms are spacious, stylish, and an artisan-antique lover’s dream. Palazzo Dello Spagnuolo is literally a minute away (minus hoards of tourists), a palacial masterpiece that has become a postcard image when one thinks of Napoli – and in true form – is quietly tucked away behind an open-air fruit market. Descending on the city and taking in Atelier Ines and the palazzo in under an hour was enough stimulation to warrant a pizza lunch.
We had to try one of the classic establishments, and Starita (Via Materdei, 27/28) was top of the list. Of course it delivered, but I found the fritti / fried snacks the star of the show – from genovesina to frittatina di pasta to montanarina, it is amazing how one can stuff and sauce fried dough. Of course the pizza delivered, thanks to the magic being in those Vesuvio-enriched tomatoes.
There is no need to depart Rione Sanità after dark. Here you have the mix of old and new Napoli – old family businesses and open-air markets still chugging away, complemented by young proprietors coming in and adding a splash of new to the tried and true street culture. Another pizza experience – and it definitely was an experience above all – is the highly-lauded Pizzeria Concettina ai Tre Santi (Via Arena della Sanità). Whether it’s the magic show of presenting your fried goodies and pizza once they hit tableside, sprinkled/oiled/sauced with pizzazz, or the cool wine offerings, or just the general nightclub-like buzz outside – you better have a booking or know someone to get in. Pasticceria Poppella is across the street – meaning your top-notch, rum-soaked baba and sfogliatella needs are met. A little further down Via Vergini, and Antica Cantina Sepe was creating a street dance party alongside a chalkboard noting the owner’s sheer disdain for spritzes. Point taken! I could have sat there all night and people-watched. We tried an evening up the hill in posh Vomero, and while the winding car ride up and vision of a more middle class Neapolitan existance were interesting, it did not match the purity of Rione Sanità.
Spending your days winding down the many rioni that dot the city center, don’t miss taking in a relaxing and quintessentially locals-only lunch in the Chiaia neighborhood, at the storied Umberto dal 1916 (Via Alabardieri, 3). The menu was truly the best of la cucina partenopea – from fried carrozzas to paccheri with octopus to the creamiest tiramisu.
It felt strangely familiar being in Napoli, like maybe in another lifetime I had been there before. Little moments made the biggest memories – the familiar smells emanating from kitchens, the dialetto, the stunningly emotional aedicula (street shrines) – or even when a man squeezed us fresh limonata from his little cart, putting more love into it than some people do a full dinner…and more limonata runs thanks to the lady who squeezed and, as a bonus, sang to us one as we gazed at Vesuvio in the near distance. Watching glistening, golden Neapolitans sit on the rocks outlining the Bay of Naples, as cruise ships dock. I thought about my father and grandparents who all departed from that same port to come to New York decades ago, and weirdly how I had come full circle, returning to where their journey began…. But now I am experiencing a very different side of Italy.
At 4am, we dragged ourselves into a van headed for Rome airport. The streets were dark and shadows of boys hung out on their bikes, while kitchen staff started turning on their lights to bake bread and prepare for another sweltering day. I realized that this city is and will always be still shrouded in so much mystery and magic. As the famous song says… Napule è tutto ‘nu suonno, e ‘a sape tutto o’ munno, ma nun sanno a verità.
elbows on the table 