The Inaccurate Tourist

47. Pizza Pie

They had France under their belts, and had a taste towards the north. It was time to descend to the land of sunshine, coffee, churches, pizza and "teenage Mafia hit men high on cocaine". Dawn, Mike and I flew south to Naples, one of the most colourful, exuberant cities in southern Italy.

Of course, every journey of a thousand miles must begin with a layover in Belgium. So for the third (and not last) time, we passed through Brussels on the Thales from Gare du Nord. I had left a four hour delay to cover any emergencies and a bit of tourism, but we were feeling a bit anxious about the plane and decided to head straight to the airport and explore the wonderful little shops and charming boutiques filled with the most darling little things.

Bruxelles-Midi and Brussel-Zuid are the same train station. Just for your information, everything in the city (and maybe even the country) is bilingually Walloon (French) and Flemish (Dutch). There's another train that goes from the Brussels train station to the airport. It was extremely simple to find and use.

Anyway, we went to the airport. We drank our Belgian beer and ate our sandwiches. We walked the halls and sat on the sculptures. We toured the sliding walkway, or motovator, or glidewalk or trot'n'go or whatever they're called. We saw immediately that our tickets were mislabeled, and went to check out both departure gates. Fortunately, we found the correct one in the nick of time... where a 'nick' is defined as three and a half hours. Ho-hum. There isn't very much more frustrating than being in a dull location waiting to fly to the exciting one.

But then we got in the plane and flew to Italy. Hooray!

Naples had been hot that day: 38 degrees. The sun sets much earlier in Naples than in Amsterdam (see last weekend), so it was already dark when we arrived. It smelled like the ocean, and it was humid and hot. We taxied directly to our hotel -- Il Convento -- and got ripped off by the taxi driver, who was going to charge us 19€ supplementary charges on our 14€ metered fare. I expressed my disbelief and he gave us a 5€ discount on his usual tourist racket. There are legitimate surcharges for extra baggage, airport fees and night service, but still not quite that much. My advice for the future: ask to see the fare sheet if you aren't sure. If you're really being ripped off, ask for a receipt and note the taxi number. Who knows, maybe they'll think you know someone who can do something about something.

Our hotel was a few metres into an 'unsavoury' district. We had been carefully warned by Antonio and Anna to approach the street directly from the well lit pedestrian walkway and not to go west of our hotel. Apparently, Naples has pretty bad statistics for crime, organized crime, poverty, corruption and unemployment.

I can be pretty naively cheerful against dangers (and I will continue to be). Over a decade of competent municipal administration, the image of the city has improved dramatically as a tourist destination. Incredible museums have reopened, churches have been restored, a metro has been constructed, the terrible traffic routed more efficiently and tourist-friendly streets cultivated. Admittedly, I would still avoid walking around with a bundle of cash and a camcorder at night, but that's pretty good advice in any city. I didn't feel unsafe or threatened by our area.

Except, of course, for the scooters. They swarm around like insects, fluidly avoiding obstacles and each other and not following any traffic laws that I could distinguish (not like the cars were having any of that either). I thought it was particularly amusing that instead of stopping at the blind corners every twenty metres, they would just honk a warning and rush through. The tiny roads were lined with colourful six-story buildings crowded together, laundry and flags draped over tiny balconies.

Our small room was converted from a nun's cell, and was excellently soundproofed and climatised with heavy shutters. Stepping out into the balcony was stepping into a wall of heat, humidity and lively noise -- but in a good way. During the day, people rushed and wandered up and down the streets, wildly gesticulating their conversations to each other. Old Italian women argued with the butcher, children frolicked, attractive young ladies with tinted club sunglasses hung off their boyfriend's scooters.

Naples is colourful. Canadians, we're nice and sincerely polite, and usually helpful, but we must seem quiet and flat to the Neapolitans -- talking with our hands dangling by our sides and driving safely within the lines. I'm going to wave my hands a bit more, and don't be surprised if I touch you to emphasize a point.

Back to the story of our trip -- Dawn and Mike left to explore, while I waited to meet up with Antonio and Anna. When they arrived, we strolled down to the Piazza del Plebiscito to have an espresso in one of the swankiest cafés I've had the pleasure to be in. We got permission to stroll around the dining area, which was empty and being prepared for an afternoon luncheon -- beautifully ornate room with most of the original paintings. We took our coffee standing in the coffee area and ate some local pastries -- a Sicilian cannoli (a tube shaped waffle-biscuit filled with cream), a sfogliatella (a fragrant ricotta and semolina mixture wrapped in a spiral of crispy ribbon pastry) and a baba (much the same thing but in a bun). The coffee was strong and tiny -- the pleasure doesn't come from the portion size. Anna wasn't keen on pastry that morning, so she had a coffee flavoured gelato -- thick and shiny ice cream.

We walked a bit by the Palazzo Reale to the water and took some photos. It wasn't even noon yet and as the immortal bard said, it was "getting hot in herre". We were also going to be late for our rendez-vous with Dawn and Mike, so we rushed down the busy pedestrian street towards Piazza Dante.

We caught them rushing down the same street just outside the Spaccanapoli -- the centre of the most historic part of Napoli and our destination for that afternoon. This is where all the oldest buildings and churches are, and our first stop was at the church of Jesù Nuova, which had a dull grey square studded exterior but was brightly, brightly baroque inside. Dawn immediately got kicked out for improper attire. I didn't even think about this when we were heading out, and I knew better -- I had seen backpackers last year with dowdy elastic-waist floor length skirts and shawls for this purpose. Antonio and I were also exposing our knees in our shorts, but apparently they could see that we had unimpeachable moral character.

Dawn bought a skirt that she hated for the next few stops, which were Santa Chiara, a very simple gothic cathedral with tall thin stained glass windows and its adjoining cloister decorated with colourful ceramic majolica and citrus trees. There was also a darkened room with one of the largest crèche (Nativity scene) that I've ever seen -- I'd seen a few others in Naples last year. Construction of the elaborate scenes is a traditional and popular craft in the city.

Naples is also about pizza. It's the birthplace of pizza, and we ate lunch in the Spaccanapoli at one of the most celebrated pizzerias, Di Matteo, noted for serving Bill Clinton. Opinion is fairly solid on the matter, especially among the Neapolitans -- Naples is the place to go for real, pure pizza. It must be cooked in a wood-fired oven, and when you use only the best of fresh ingredients, it isn't necessary to pile on a dozen different toppings. If you make your pizza right and in the traditional fashion, you can get your pizzeria officially accredited with the Vera Pizza mark. Our pizzeria was full and loud, with the waiters shouting at each other and carrying on like kings.

Antonio ordered us pizza and beer -- we ended up getting Heineken because it was more expensive and we were obviously tourists. Evidently Antonio has an accent from northern Italy, and Anna (with her southern Italian accent) got the most basil on her pizza. The pizza was excellent, as expected -- a fine, crisp crust with burned marks from the wood oven, an unspiced yet intensely tomato sauce, slices of good, fresh Mozzarella that still leaked Bufalo milk and some leaves of basil. A tasty example of a simple Margherita pizza in the colors of Italy.

After our enormous pizzas, we tried another traditional food -- an orancina each. This was a fried ball of rice with a core of savoury ground pork and peas in gravy. The name comes from the shape, size and heft, which is similar to an orange.

We waddled, full and satisfied (for a fraction of the price of Paris or Amsterdam) down to the Via S. Gregorio. This is the crèche street, where artisans manufacture all sorts of figurines, stands and props for the famous Nativity scenes of Naples. For the tourists, there were also many, many versions of Pulcinella, the stylized clown character in black and white symbolizing the city. You can buy the traditional ceramic (or increasingly, plastic) red chili peppers that, as gifts, bring good luck and happiness. There were also plenty of figurines of Totò, a hero of Naples. He was a actor (and a Baron!) with an extremely crooked smile and a gift for physical comedy.

We saw a couple of other little churches and enjoyed a lemon granita for a quarter euro. Your price may vary depending on your look, your language, your accent and whether you show your money before settling a price.

We'd had a full day, but it was only half over -- we piled into Antonio's borrowed car and headed off to Pompeii. It was hot, and humid. There was little breeze and particles were trapped in the hazy air. Naples had been having a garbage management crisis, and it hadn't been collected in a week. People were starting to burn the piles of trash, which didn't help the air quality either. We took the detour around Vesuvius, and passed by the church in Pompeii, which is a pilgrimage site roughly equivalent to the healing waters of Lourdes. Dawn and Mike were feeling pretty healthy and we were running out of time to visit Pompeii, so we pressed on to the ruins. We had a pleasant surprise: the ruins were freely open that day.

We wandered among the ruins for a couple of hours -- saw the baths, many frescoes, many ancient storefronts that had marble countertops with ceramic jars built in. The city was busy and prosperous before a cataclysmic eruption of Vesuvius over two thousand years ago. It was buried in ash and left undisturbed and incredibly well-preserved until its rediscovery and excavation -- which is still not complete. We saw tiled and mosaic floors, rich houses with shallow pools to collect rainwater, and we walked along the original roads that had well-worn ruts from chariot wheels. Many of the most incredible artifacts have been removed for preservation in the Museo Archelogico, which I visited last year with my parents. Walking around the site, however, is unique and well worth spending an entire day -- we were certainly far too rushed on our limited schedule.

We took the train back to Naples safely for a couple of euro as Antonio drove home in the other direction. We ate at a cafeteria style takeout place, pointing at a variety of dishes and choosing (and frequently getting ignored in the process). Dawn tried to use her considerable food vocabulary, but the server was insistent on using his reasonable English. I ate another orancina type thing with spaghetti in it, and some sort of ham-injected rolled bread.

At the hotel, Antonio and Anna called to set me up on a blind date with a cousin for the next night. According to their reasoning, Dawn and Mike needed some romantic alone time in Naples, and I needed an Italian girlfriend. I couldn't argue with that logic, so I agreed and went to bed.

In the morning, I went in search of a Nocciolata, a specialty coffee. It's a mysterious foamy chocolate and hazelnut coffee about the size of a double espresso, and very delicious. I love hazelnut. Mike tried to order an Americano (espresso watered down to a reasonable North American volume), but the barrista threw his hands in the air until Mike also had a Nocciolata. I should point out that, like most things in Naples, the price was half that of Paris.

We went to the tourist office to find out how to take a boat down the Amalfi coast, but we were just a little too late for the morning sailing. We could have taken the bus down the winding and scary but undoubtedly scenic cliff roads, but we decided to take the afternoon boat instead and spend the morning shopping. We bought our tickets (10 € each way) and passed the rest of the morning walking along the bright, shining and buzzing morning commerce. We wandered through a supermarket (always one of my favourite things to do in a foreign country) and each bought some pasta. I saw some amazingly long traditional spaghetti -- at least four times the normal length, and you aren't supposed to break it for cooking or (gasp) cut it before eating.

For lunch, I bought pizza at a hole in the wall (but a Vera Pizza hole). It was the more traditional 'workers' pizza, with little other than a crust folded around tomato sauce and a spot of cheese. However, it was freshly baked in another wood-fired oven, cost a single euro and was very tasty.

The boat down the Amalfi coast was relaxing. It wasn't as clear as it could have been, but the scenery along the route was still pretty amazing. We passed by the island of Capri, which is supposed to be very beautiful, tourist-oriented and expensive. Our boat stopped by the village of Positano on the coast, but we didn't have enough time to get off.

We got off at Amalfi, got our feet wet in the ocean and looked for pretty rocks (I won). Dawn and Mike wanted to walk along the water, so we separated again so I could see St. Andrew's Basilica. The Saint Andrew -- the fisherman, brother of Saint Peter and the first disciple called to Christ. He was crucified, tied to a diagonal cross, and his remains are in the beautifully frescoed and painted crypt below the church, under an enormous larger-than-life bronze of the saint. There was also a pleasant little cloister and a small museum with a thousand year old mitre and chalice.

Dawn, Mike and I rejoined to wander among the tourist shops full of bottles of limoncello (a strong lemon alcohol), peppers (ceramic, plastic and real) and all sorts of other stuff that tourists buy. We had our gelato just outside the Basilica.

The boat ride back was also two hours, but this time we spent the majority of it outside. The ride was uneventful. The scenery was still nice. I was starting to get nervous about this blind date coming up...

Back in Naples, Dawn and Mike went out for dinner and I took the train to meet the Italians. A gentleman never reveals details about his dates, of course, but it's safe to say that I met the cousin, and also a few chaperones: the aunt, the uncle, the other aunt, the other cousin and his wife and newborn, as well as Antonio and Anna. A thoroughly enjoyable experience, and I would have loved to have spent more time with their family.

We were up extremely early the next morning to taxi to the airport (again getting ripped off in the process) and unfortunately, we caught our flight back to Brussels. This time I had left a sufficiently large window that we could see the city. We left our stuff in the lockers at the Central Station and walked to the Grand Place. This was described by Victor Hugo as the most beautiful square in Europe, but of course he also proposed a union of European states with a common currency, so we know how deluded he was.

We did the peeing statue, had a beer, skipped the waffle and the cathedral, bought some chocolates and generally did the three hour tour, before heading back to the City of Lights.

Like all good things, their trip had to come to an end eventually. The next day, we said goodbye, and they went back to Canada. Bye Dawn and Mike!

What are those moving walkways called? Go-ways? Move-U's?

Posted by The Inaccurate Tourist at May 9, 2003 03:07 PM