Chilling by the Sea
We landed in Naples and I chose to take a cab from the airport to the city centre. Sure thing, the cab driver thought we were heading to the port to board on a boat to Capri, then once corrected he texted all the way to our destination.
His eyes though hidden under his sunglasses barely left his phone. He drove slowly and he had a big vehicle. I felt safer than I would have wanted. You don’t take a cab in Naples and don’t expect to die!
When we stepped in our airbnb we discovered our room was right across the conservatory. A young opera singer was practicing her range and it felt like we’d fell into some Halloween theme haunted house.
The room was large, the bed comfortable enough, the street noisy but we didn’t question it. It felt good to be there. We left our stuff and moved on to get a coffee. A real, dark, tasty coffee.
We drank like four coffees on our way to the marina at the end of the Toledo Avenue, where we drank an aperol spritz facing the Vesuvio. We chilled. For real. It was good. I kind of was falling asleep. I had worked all night and hadn’t slept for 24 hours.
Stopping by our favourite risotteria (Valù, go there!) to fill our bellies we made it all the way back to our airbnb where I fell asleep almost instantly. When midnight struck, I woke up.
Passing Shadows in the Night
Our room was on the first floor. A bar was blasting music right under our windows on the street level. People were out smoking, chanting, talking very loud and not only with their hands. Their vocal cords had joined the party with the utmost yelling fashion. It sounded like a busy Friday night at a cat strangling ritual. That electro music was just not natural!
When a saxophone started to cry in the spark of the night I was briefly reminded my dear old Belgium and I felt better. Yet it didn’t mean we could find any kind of rest staying in this shaggy place! We had to move.
Of course Morgane was awake. She couldn’t find any sleep. Her eyes wide open and her face paler than usual she told me that was okay to stay there for the night. I knew better. Not only would staying there drive her crazy but I’d end up going on a murder spree. I already felt unhinged, ghosts whispering in my souls where to find a butter knife and how to sharpen it.
We had to party all night and forgive about Pompeii for the next day altogether. Or move out!
We chose the latter option and I found us a cozy yet not too expensive hotel on the other side of the Centro Storico neighborhood. I made sure there would still be a receptionist to host us when we’d arrive and we left. Like thieves in the night.
We were but passing shadows on walls as we lurked through the Centro Storico and zigzagged in the narrow streets between the mindless drunkards and the raging scooters. The uneven blue stone pavement made our suitcase spit its rolling sound in a hectic manner. The graffiti all over the walls towered us and the Che spectacular portrait let us walk by without question.
At the end of our trial we were greeted by a cheerful and kind night receptionist. The ghosts who’d follow me told me I couldn’t kill him. He was too cute they said. Therefore I went to bed, sunk into its memory foam mattress and blacked out from exhaustion.
Always on the Move
Morgane had put an early alarm so that we’d be at Pompeii in the morning. A fool’s dream. It rang. We looked at each other. We fell right back asleep. We eventually woke up at 9:50. Ten minutes before check out time. It left me no time for my two hours long get-out-of-bed ritual. I sprung on my feet and ran to the reception. We barely made it in time to eat breakfast, then we headed to the B&B that we’d booked overnight for the remainder of our stay and that settled our lodging predicaments for good.
Noon hit us like a ton of bricks. We were starving but the heat made us oblivious to it. We were now in the Materdei neighborhood and it meant only one thing. Pizzas at Starita! The former cantina that served as decor to the classic movie ‘Oro di Napoli’. It’s only one of the best place in all Italy to eat a pizza. The air-conditioning calmed our senses and awoke our appetite then we ate at full delight. It was therefore time to catch the train to Pompeii.
This very train, however, gave me a glimpse of India. It all flashed in front of my eyes. The crowd. The heat. The sweat. The train would stop at every station but no one would ever unboard. We were stuck together in like peas in a casserole. It’s a good thing I fought my way in and got us some seats at the expense of a granny trying to come down the train with her luggage. She had a ragazzi holding her suitcase and yelling to let her pass. I figured she’d be alright. Morgane confirmed it later to me.
I was left with nothing to do while on that train so my mind started to wander. As my eyes set on a warning on the window that read: ‘Non gettate alcun oggetto dal finestrino e’ pericoloso sporgersi’ the wildest images sparkled in front on my eyes.
This was the story of a train conductor, used to see people throw garbage from the windows of his train on a daily basis. There was nothing he could do about it but to complain to himself about the state of the world. Then one day, he saw something really big being pushed through one of the window. Fast track to the train wagon where it happened. Three macho men were throwing an old man out of the train but he wouldn’t let them do it and fought back. It was quite the scene. A pretty young woman yelled and prayed for the old man to be left alone. He was her lover. The three macho men were her brothers. A lot of arguing was involved until the old men finally let go and just flew away to the stupefaction of the train conductor who just figured out that the thing being thrown out of his train was an actual human being. Damn!
The story doesn’t end there. As the train conductor returns home and is still in total shock from what he saw, someone rings his bell. He opens the window and sees the old man, injured, but pissed. He actually knows the guy. It’s an old pal! He doesn’t figure out, however, that his old friend is the unidentified person that was thrown out of his train. “What happened to your face! – You wouldn’t believe the day I had.” They put two and two together then decide to go on their own vendetta. Guns out blazing. The train conductor is a part time gun trafficker so he naturally hides an armory in his basement.
Not a single shot ends up being fired though. The old man lurks around the house of his enemies in the bushes and catch the sight of his young lover. He loses his nerves and sits on a dead trunk. He remembers his former wife who died several years ago. He sees her face clear as day in his memories. The young woman looks so much like her. She reminded him of his youth. Of his former, happier life. The old man tells it all to his friend. Then, in the dead of the night, they take their leave as they go for a drink, or two.
As I finished to make up this story, our train stopped at Villa de Misteri. That’s where we had to disembark to visit Pompeii.
Coming soon… Writing in progress!