The one where Paul is confused by Napoli

A few (or more…) months ago I ran out of enthusiasm for writing about ‘work stuff’ all the time, so I wound up not writing anything at all. Since something is better than nothing, I’ve decided instead just to write about whatever I feel like. This time, that means I want to write a little about my recent visit to Naples, and how I came to understand a little bit about this odd little corner of Italy.

I’ve been to a few different places in my 40-ish years on this planet - London, New York, San Francisco, Paris, Rome, Barcelona & Tokyo to name a few. Naples is unlike any of these places though, and it’s odd enough that I want to spend some time talking about it. It has an energy about it that I didn’t find particularly inviting when I arrived in the city, but I left it strangely bewitched by the place. When thinking about things, I find it useful to have a model to work with. A city is, I think, a synthesis between its buildings and its people. They interact with each other, influencing one and other in loops that become self reinforcing, and it’s through this model that I’m trying to describe the experience of having been there.

Naples’ setting is nothing short of idyllic, sitting in the middle of the Gulf of Naples on the edge of the sparkling Mediterranean Sea. To the south lies the spectacular Amalfi coast, with its cliffside towns and vivid blue seas. Just 30 minutes outside the sprawl of the city you can be winding along cliffside roads taking in views so stunning that they’re almost beyond words.

The city itself sits in start contrast. It’s a gritty, urban place, with worn down buildings that more often than not are covered in graffiti. It heaves and throbs with more people on the streets than you’d believe possible in a city of only three million souls. Its arteries and throughways sit clogged with traffic at almost any time of day, and if Naples had a soundtrack it would consist almost entirely of angry car horns, ambulance sirens, and loud Italian voices. Some people talk about Naples as a kind of faded postcard of Italy, but it’s not anything nearly so charming. (this site has some photos that’ll show you exactly what I mean)

Turning our attention now to the people of Naples, I found them to be a complete study in contradictions. In many ways they seem to be the polar opposite of the my fellow Englishmen, as their emotions are never far from the surface. In my experience, that manifests itself as either an incredible level of warmth or borderline (and occasional outright) hostility, with not much in between. Sometimes a stranger will be talking to you like a friend just minutes after meeting, and the rest of the time… let’s just say that there’s no feigned politeness.

Nothing exemplifies the combination of the city and its people like the experience of being driven through rush hour traffic by a native. To do so is to witness a system of frenetic chaos, a dance of metal and people that somehow seems to just about work. Cars dive into intersections with no hope of getting out short of someone calling Chicken. Others plow on in as if there’s one lane more than that marked on the road. Scooters race through gaps in the traffic at bewildering speeds. One-way signs are a recommendation at best, and let’s not even talk about speed limits. The roads themselves are a mishmash of multi-lane highways and streets that are barely wide enough for a car. Pedestrian crossings are frequent, but few of them have accompanying traffic lights so crossing one of the busier road requires a certain amount of bravery - and a healthy disregard for personal safety.

And yet, there’s something beguiling in the heart of all this chaos. Naples isn’t a place I’d ever want to live, but there’s a strange kind of beauty to be found in such an honest place. Not honest in the sense of ‘no one’s going to try and rip you off’ (spoilers: they will), but honest in the sense of both the city and its people having an utter lack of pretence. A majority of the time, neither the city nor its residents give a shit about you, but for the brief moments where you manage to embrace the chaos and become part of the dance, you’ll find moments of connection that you’d never expect. It’s a place that makes you want to talk about it, and for that I think it’ll always be a place that I remember.