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| Pompeiian mosaic in Naples Archeological Museum. Also depicts my expression at discovering my "sandwich surprise" |
The Curreri Viaggi bus trip back was slower than the way in, due to a few more stops. The
real surprise when I arrived was opening the tuna-tomato sandwich I bought at
the Mayflower cafe in Sorrento to find it was actually a tomato-mayonaise
sandwich. I wondered what took them so long! Apparently they ran out of tuna,
but to make up for it, they made me two tomato and mayonaise sandwiches, all
served on god-awful white bread, "english-style". Pretty funny--at
least they made an effort to make it up to me, though I’d rather they just told
me.
The
distance between Sorrento and Naples might as well be an ocean instead of a
bay, more like a continent apart. Naples streets are marked by scudding
garbage, studded with groups of unemployed men of every ethnicity, and scarred
by miles of graffiti, most of it promoting anarcy. Its an ugly city, with
unhappy people who call you stupid to your face if you appear to be a foreigner.
One woman clucked her tongue at me when she thought I was going to ignore the
red “do not cross” light and pulled me back from the street. “English?” she
said. “Sure,” I said. She snorted. In Naples, as everywhere else in Italy,
crossing a busy street has more ro do with agility and timing than signals.
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| View from La Chiminee's roof garden. Rain improves the vista |
I finally
connected with la Chiminee hotel after multiple tries to call them on public
phones from the airport--after much sturm und drang, got the people at the airport
Information desk to call for me. I was instructed to wait by 'the
lavatory" at the end of a row of trees outside the airport--I only figured
out where I was supposed to be because another woman with luggage was standing
there. It turns out I was instructed to wait by the “rondatory”—the round-about.
There followed a wild ride in a private car with a fellow, Lido, who dropped me
in front of the hotel.
La Chininee
Business Hotel in Naples is an emerald set in plastic. The hotel is lovely--3
or 4 stars, and the restaurant--totally deserted when I got there at 7 (didn't
open for dinner until 7:30—someone should tell the front desk) was quite good,
considerably better than some places in Sorrento.
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| A more pleasant street scene from Pompeii in mosaic |
The
neighborhood is a rough one, and doesn't look like a future gentrification
project--the wide dirty street is lined with tiny baby-goods shops, car repair
places, a cafe full of locals, and empty storefronts--plus one street shrine
to a local saint. Directly on top of, or behind the shops were
multi-story--three or more--working class apartments in that blocky prolitariat
style--row upon row of them, all with laundry flapping from every tiny balcony.
On the street, girls in their late teens, often pregnant, were pushing
strollers and/or leading toddlers by the hand. This was not a place for a pleasant
stroll, as you were guaranteed to get stared at.
The tram
downtown stopped right accross from the hotel, and with a little watchfulness,
the stop at Plaza Garibaldi was made. Then came the real problem--where was the
big station that was supposed to be there? A huge construction site on the left
looked suspect. I folowed the crowd, and came upon an entrance a few blocks
away, and after several enquiries--including one to a policeman who insisted on
shaking my hand enthusiastically while puzzling over my question (all in the name of Anglo-Italian relations, I'm sure)--found
the train and track. If I were writing a guidebook, I’d use some euphemism like
"well-used" to describe the metro, but “nasty” sems to fill the bill.
In all honesty, its not much different than New York, as that one is largely
nasty too.
The mosaics
were astounding, mostly from the House of the Faun, a mansion that covered a
city block in Pompeii—I’m so glad I went to Herculaneum and Pompeii first, to
have some idea of the layout and where these wondrous objects were. I can't
describe their beauty in words--perfectly preserved, full of color and life,
panel upon panel of animals, people, scenes in delicate detail. What must it
have been like to chip away at centuries of hardened lava and ash to find these
beauties underneath? The terrible and sudden death of the owners of these works
brought us, centuries later, a window into life.
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| Well, hello there! |
Two things
disringuish the interests of Pompeiians: sex and food, in that order. Paintings
depicting sex, penis-shaped pottery and sculpture, and eating and drinking
utensils depicting figures with oversized penises are on carefully arranged
display in the museum’s “Secret Room”. Visitors are assured that the erect
penis was a sign of good luck, as if four-leaf-clovers are hung over every
doorway and street sign nowadays! Apparently picture books of sexual positions
were there for the amusement of guests at table. That, or porno has retained
its popularity over the centuries, and the assumption that it was a daily and
very much out-there interest is only that.
Many
frescoes survived the disaster, their subjects the slightly more chaste
versions of myth. The sculptures were incredible--often copies of Greek work,
lifelike and detailed. Ther is nothing new under the sun.
Its
interesting what we can or do deduce from the remains of the past.
What would be the assumptions about me or you if part of our belongings were found intact--say just the kitchen, or bathroom, or bedroom?
Tomorrow, on to
Amsterdam, to spend the night in Leiden. At least it will be very, very clean. I'm sorry to leave Sorrento, and Pisello and his dreams:
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