Give me an alley, give me a valley, give me a Neapolitan night, let me smell more of the world and gain more insight

When he was 19 years old, (at least according to the song), Jonathan Richman went to Naples by himself and experienced the terror of walking down a dirty, smelly, alley at night, holding his possessions close and cautiously eyeing the locals he passed by.

When I was 25 years old, I went to Naples and had the same experience.

And surprisingly, like Jonathan Richman, I think I actually like Naples!

Now, I say that with !!!!CAUTION!!!!, as after one and a half days here, I have not yet been robbed!!!!! I recognize that it is much harder to like a city after being robbed there, and I recognize the high likelihood that I will be robbed here, as I have no doubts about it being a dangerous place. However, I hold my bags close to my body, I hold my copy of Jane Eyre in my hand like a weapon, poised to hammer in the eye socket of anybody who threatens me, and I walk quickly through the alleyways, quickly overtaking Italian thugs, woman with strollers, and 10 year old children with more proverbial hair on their chests than I have on my toes(is that the right use of the word "proverbial? I'm not sure. Should I have used the world "figurative"? I think you know what I mean.)

I have heard many things about Naples, from "Bellisima!" to "dirty, smelly, ugly." Who should I listen to? Usually the "bellisimas" come from Italians (and one Swiss woman I met on the train from Cerberes to Paris who defensively defended Napoli after I commented to another nearby traveller that I did not want to go there.) They say "be careful! Watch your stuff! But it is beautiful!" And then I have friends, and old ladies in gelaterias who tell me to avoid it, often adding a cautionary tale of being robbed.

I understand now both perspectives. The city is dirty. Piles of garbage everywhere, trash in the streets, old run down buildings, decaying ruins of Naples' glory days. Many of the locals appear unsavory, preparing to stare me down if I let my gaze unfocus for more than a moment. The air smells unclean, the roads are dark, the cars dart around each other with even less caution than in Rome.

And I don't feel safe, really. I put up a much stronger guard here, don't listen to my iPod when I walk, hold my backpack in the front despite looking incredibly uncool and hold a mean expression on my face.

Contrarily, I think coming to Naples has made my trip to Italy feel complete in a way that I would have not felt it to be had I not come. Cinqueterre was beautiful and relaxing, Venice was a bit irritating, but beautiful in its own way, Rome was cosmopolitan, and educational. But all were swarming with tourists. I could barely glimpse the Italians, grumpily serving food, gossipping behind the backs of the Americans. But little sense of what it actually felt like to be an Italian in Italy (although I found Rome's "motorcycling businessman in silk suit" or "motorcycling woman in high heels and designer outfit" to be most likely authentic.)

Naples has far fewer tourists. I've seen a few groups of American teenagers, some of what appear to be Italians from other parts and of course my share of Australians (they're everywhere!), but mostly I have witnessed southern Italians, eating gelato on Via Toleda, making out by the waterfront, kicking a soccer ball in one of the many Piazzas or chilling in front of a pizzeria.

I'm ready to leave Italy now. I did not fall in love it as many seem to. But I am glad I came to Naples. Perhaps my mid-twenties appreciation for grime and grittiness will fade as I enter my 30's and I will long more heartily for resort vacation. But for now, I enjoyed wandering amongst Naples' old buildings, covered in graffiti.

And the day's chronology.

Began horribly. After a pleasant train ride (though much, much later than I had planned because of oversleeping by 2 hours and the next 2 scheduled trains being full), I got to Naples, only to find that the directions to my hotel, given to me by the travel agent at Touring Club Italia were completely useless. I got on the bus she suggested, showed my stop (Via Battisti) to the driver, and he shrugged and moved on. I showed it to other passengers who were equally unhelpful even when they tried to help. How come no one in Italy speaks English? Or Spanish? I will come back to this point later.

After a very long, and very miserable serious of bus rides (I returned to the bus station in order to get better directions), my back breaking, I finally arrived at my hotel at 3 o'clock, after having awoken at EIGHT. You'd think that an early start like that would have done me more good, but no.

My Bed and Breakfast is much more expensive than anywhere else I've been (60 Euro, instead of 20), but I think it is worth it. Not only have I recieved breakfast, but a clean room and shower of my own and EXCELLENT service. The father (it is run by a family of 4) WALKED me to a pizzeria after checking me in, as he could see I was famished. Unfortunately, he also spoke no English at all, and my Spanish/pantomime was less charming after my dizzying journey to the hotel.

After getting some food in my stomach, I explored the streets. Navigating in a city where the best advice is probably "stay out of the dark, narrow alleys" is difficult when almost every road is a "dark, narrow, alley."

I entered a beautiful church interior (although the exterior was plain), explored the graffiti covered piazzas, searched for an internet cafe (I found one, eventually), met two dudes from Seattle, walked past some dirty alley dwellings where families prepared dinner. With almost no cash, I walked from cafe to cafe until I found one that accepted credit cards (naturally, it was much more expensive), and had an espresso and a cream pastry. Walked to the waterfront, and pretended not to watch the couples kiss.

And an aside: call me strange, but in a way, I almost feel like Naples is a more romantic city than Venice. Sure Venice is much prettier, but everything there is such a scam, all the services prepared to take advantage of travellers on romantic journeys. Naples doesn't care about providing romance; the Neapolitan teenagers just can't take their hands off each other!

Night began to fall and I craved the company of Americans and to speak English (having given up on finding Spanish speakers in Italy). I walked all over part of town, sat in a cafe for hours reading Milan Kundera's Ignorance (I finished it last night too -- what a perfect book, huh? Not to mention Northanger Abbey being fantastic as well), but met nobody. Oh, just to talk to someone who understood me without pantomime!

Came back to the hotel, where the parents and the daughter were waiting for me. Chatted with me in Spanish/Italian/English mix, gave me a delicious lemon liquor drink, and some good advice about the next day. The son came home too, with his girlfriend. We sat outside, talked about Hunter S. Thompson, said goodnight and I had a wonderful sleep.