The train ride to Naples was an experience to say the least. In Texas we don’t have trains, so I don’t have much experience with buying train tickets. When buying this particular ticket, I had no idea what “guaranteed seat” meant. Only once I was on the train, en route to Naples, did I realize that no “guaranteed seat” meant just that—there was no seats available for me or anyone else in our group. We all had no choice but to sit on the pull down stools in the middle of the aisle of the train. Please note that this was after only one hour of sleep. I might have been a little grumpy. In the end, it was actually fun to talk and look out the window and plot our adventures in Croatia, but next time I’m paying the extra three Euros for a chair.
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| A typical parking job in Naples |
There is one word to describe my initial reaction to Naples: fear. Not to say that Naples isn’t a diverse, interesting, cultural destination, but it is scary. Together with Sicily, Naples really is still run by the mob. Anytime I told someone in Rome that I was coming here they cringed and warned me about the mob’s presence, reminding me that Naples is the murder capital of Italy. Rumor has it that most buildings in the city are especially resilient because of all of the bodies that end up in the concrete foundation. Great.
Paul, an SAS friend, strongly suggested that we walk from the train station to the port instead of taking a cab. I usually feel comfortable in these countries when there is at least one guy around, and I needed to save money, so walk we did. Through the duration of this walk I saw more trash than I did in all of Rome, passed a street vendor selling chipmunks, and someone literally grabbed my bag. I held on too tight for him to get away with it, but still! Train stations and port areas are not normally pristine locales, and I should have assumed that the 20-minute walk connecting two would be less than beautiful. Lesson learned. Next time, I’m splurging on a cab. Once safely back to the ship it was time to relax and prepare for my Mount Vesuvius hike in the morning.
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| Adorable!! Naples has at least a few chill inhabitants |
Independence Day Abroad.
July 4
Mount Vesuvius is in many ways a lot like Naples. Volatile, dangerous, and ready to erupt at any moment, the description for this active volcano could easily be used to describe any Napoleon’s fierce temper. It has for centuries served as the dramatic backdrop for this bustling city, and it is in fact due another eruption sometime soon. Exhilarating, huh? How’d you like to live in the shadow of the Mediterranean’s only active volcano? Hiking this famous volcano was really thrilling and surprisingly not challenging. To be fair, I was driven most of the way up, but the last 30 minutes were at a steep incline and I’m still calling it a hike. I mean they gave us walking sticks, so it’s got to be legit.
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| The rim of Vesuvius |
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| Look at those hikers! When I finally made it past the hoards of sweaty, shirtless Germans and was at the peak, I was amazed at the breathtaking views and the startling contrast in landscape between the mountain’s rugged top and the green vegetation a few hundred feet below. I can tour museums all day, and paintings have been known to bring me to tears, but the raw beauty of nature is still the best kind. Here we were, above the clouds on the top of a volcano that has wreaked havoc on the Mediterranean for Millennia. I’m still very disappointed that we didn’t make it over to Pompeii, but it was that or Capri, and I was ready for a beach. |
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| Ah, Capri. |
After quickly shoving a few necessities into my beach bag back at the ship, Leah and I ran to catch the noon boat to Capri. Oh Capri. The juice pouch, the pant, the island—I love them all. It’s actually pronounces “CAH-pree” I’ve learned. I feel like a poser when I say it that way thought. Can you imagine saying “Girl, I love your CAH-pree pants”? I can’t do it. I’m convinced that this gem of an island is the only reason people come to Naples, except for the pizza, but more on that later. My first impression of Capri was that I had landed in paradise. I don’t know if it is the stark contrast between the beautiful island and filthy Naples, or the fact that most of my previous experience with islands took place on Galveston, but I really loved this beautiful oasis. Bill Gates does, too. That’s right, he was there the same day as us, celebrating the 4th on his gorgeous, mammoth yacht. Once we were off of the boat Leah and I met two other kids from SAS and made it our priority to see the Blue Grotto.
The Blue Grotto is one of those rare, majestic caves in the side of ocean cliffs where the sun shines perfectly through the opening to illuminate the interior with a vivid turquoise light. It’s impossible to describe but magnificent to behold. We took a boat to get to this side of the island where we waited our turn to board a tiny, 4-person boat that skilled men carefully maneuvered through the narrow opening. This is an extremely dangerous job, and we witnessed first hand what happens when the tide gets the best of you when the man steering the boat before us crashed his head open against the rock. His head was wide open, there was blood everywhere, and the unfortunate collision was followed by lots of frustrated cursing in Italian. I think he will recover, but it was not a pretty wound. It was at this point that we realized we hadn’t signed a release form of any kind. Do they even have lawsuits in Italy? This employee might be in for some big bucks if he were back in the states. I’ve been on some pretty scary rides at amusement parks, toured some terrifying haunted houses, and engaged in plenty of activities that got my heart racing and my adrenaline pumping, but nothing, NOTHING, comes close to being as scary as going in the blue grotto behind that fresh trail of blood.
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| Blue Grotto |
We made it, but it was a close call. After that it was time for the beach. Now, a quick word about European beaches. They are great. Really, they are. I love the freedom and all, and who likes tan lines? But everything they say is true. Men almost always wear Speedos and women universally wear teeny bikinis, even if they are well over sixty and overweight. Kids under the age of ten don't really wear swimsuits at all. No judgment here. Just something different, something to get used to.
Independence Day Abroad.
Independence Day Abroad.
Today was Independence Day, so I did a lot of thinking about my home country and the perception people have of it from abroad, as well as my own changing view of it as I travel farther and farther from home. One thing is certain, I am and shall always remain fervently patriotic. I love America! Italy won my stomach, but The States have my heart. As far as my changing perspective, I can only say that I have greater sympathy for foreigners traveling to our land. I feel impossibly helpless when I cannot communicate with people and I am the one invading their country. I want to learn a new language. It’s so true that the vast majority of people in this region speak English, but it is not completely universal and the last thing I want to repeat is the game of charades I played with a clerk at the Barcelona train station while trying to buy tickets for a train that is leaving in ten minutes. Needless to say, we missed that train.
I am yet to witness any truly hateful or even strongly negative perceptions of American from abroad. Oh, I understand the bad rap American tourists get—we can be pretty ridiculous, clueless, and set in our ways—but our country and culture as a whole is amazing. It is home, so I guess I’m biased. Everyone I’ve met so far loves America and especially loves that I’m from Texas, the home of cowboys. We’ll see if that changes in some of the countries coming up on my itinerary.
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| Landry, Blair, Maegan As it turns out, most of my fellow travelers share my fierce patriotism. That is how here, on a tiny beach in tiny Capri about sixty of us materialized, cheap wine in hand, to celebrate the 4th in good American company. Bill Gates was probably watching us from his yacht. I can’t say that I feel great about being that rowdy group of American college students touring Europe, and most days I would have no part in it. But it was the 4th of July, I was on a beach, and I wasn’t even going to get fireworks. Bring on the fun. We did just that and sang the national anthem until it was time to board the last boat back to Naples. Capri is too expensive for my overnight budget, so I had to catch this boat back or I was going to be sleeping on the pebble beach. Good thing I had bought my ticket back earlier…right? Wrong. |
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| Party (not) in the USA |
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| Maegan, Me, and Leah. Reppin' the Frogs. |
It was time to board and my ticket was gone. Missing. I was a mess, dumping the contents of Leah’s backpack out onto the dock. Alas, no ticket. A friend tried to buy me another ticket at the booth, but the boat was leaving in ten minutes and the women selling tickets was on a very pressing social phone call. Oh, Italy. My friend Landry from UT offered to bribe the ticket collector, but his thick Texas accent and vernacular heavily dotted with “ya’lls” and “all ya’lls” rarely goes over well with the locals. I was stuck. In the end, there was some smiling and winking and I got/snuck on the boat. Thank the Lord. We found the ticket in Leah’s bag the next day.
Last Day in Naples
Naples, it is rumored, is the birthplace of Pizza, Gelato, and Espresso. Most of what Americans consider "Italian Food" comes from this region because so many early Italian immigrants came from Naples. It stands to reason that Naples would therefore have some pretty amazing food. I wanted to find out if this was really true.
After hunting through guidebooks for the best pizza in town, we settled on a close place called Da Michele. Unbeknownst to us, this joint has been lauded in the bestseller Eat Pray Love, visited by Samantha Brown, and written up in every Italy guidebook ever published. All that, and it is still the definitive favorite of the locals. After an hour wait, we were seated at a table and I was in heaven. There are only two choices here-Margarita or Marinara. I had a Margarita and I ate every bit of my entire pizza. I can’t say that I’ve ever done that before-but it was my last day in Italy, right? I don’t understand how something so simple can be so good and how it all can cost less than 5 Euros, but it can and it does here at Da Michele. Let me just break it down for you. If Italy is the home of the best pizza in the world and Naples has the best pizza in Italy, and I was eating at the best pizzeria in Naples, could it be that I’ve had the best pizza in the world??? Why yes, I think so.
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| YUM!!! |
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| We ate... |
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| ...and ate... |
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| ...and ate... |
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| Until... |
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| ...we had each eaten our OWN pizza pie!!! |
After that I was back to nasty, crazy, violent Naples. Our next stop was for a 2.50 purchase where I was shortchanged after I handed the cashier a twenty. The woman scamming me yelled loud and fast in Italian, but after three minutes passed and I gave her my best impression of my mom’s scary eyes, she gave me all of my change back. I didn’t even have to raise my voice. That’s all for Italy. I’m actually cheating, because I’m in Croatia right now, but I had to catch up. Tell you about Dubrovnik later.
All the best,
Bonnie
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