Right after Lent Term in Cambridge, I flew into Campania in Italy (that is, to Naples) as a solo traveller. It was a trip I’d been looking forward to after a hectic term (not so much hectic in academic terms as in social terms: I had way too many long dinners with friends, indulging in all manner of interesting conversations).
Naples (Napoli)
Giovanni!
I arrived in Naples quite late on Friday, 17th March ’12 – and I got quite lost in Naples, as on the way to the hostel (Hostel Giovanni’s Home) I’d booked a bed at, my maps somehow got stolen from my bag. Luckily, my passport and wallet were in my jacket and didn’t get nicked. I called up the hostel owner, Giovanni, about 5 times, asking for directions and getting lost along the winding streets of Naples. Part of the instructions involved turning left after seeing a pink building 300 metres from the Piazza Cavour metro station, but the problem was I saw 3 pink buildings.
After lots of running into the wrong streets, I managed to get near enough to the hostel to see Giovanni on the 3rd floor balcony – he had come out to see if I was near enough to the hostel to guide verbally!
The hostel was very homely, and I met characters from around the world there, including Donate, Lauren (Americans), Jason (Australian), Rimon (Israeli), Ryo (Japanese), and many more – Giovanni cooked for us on 2 nights out of 4 I was there and the hospitality was really amazing. I got a Japanese novel (Kafka On The Shore) from Rimon, who likes Japanese literature, and I talked at length to Donate and Lauren about life in their respective parts of America; Ryo also told me about his round-the-world trip – he had resigned from his job in Japan, which he had worked for 15 years, and he was enjoying a good break.
Giovanni's map.
On my first night, Giovanni gave Donate and I a crash course on things to see in Naples. He procured his own map of Naples, and told us the best route to walk through the city (orange), mafia areas (purple), the route to the port for the ferry to Ischia and Capri (blue), landmarks (green).
We were also convinced (because I asked about Naple’s reputation for mafia) that Naples wasn’t so dangerous – Sicily, Rome and Palermo seemed to be more dangerous than Naples. Giovanni effortlessly pulled out statistics from his computer to prove it (he seemed to have exerted efforts into convincing lots of guests at his hostel that Naples is less dangerous than it is reputed to be). I recall 85 people being killed in Naples in 2006 (this is actually written down by him on the map above), but out of 85 murders, 81 are murders of mafia members by rival mafia members, so tourists are in fact very safe. Naples isn’t even in the top-five list of dangerous European cities for pickpocketing, but we were advised to carry nothing but enough cash for the day in our pockets. Furthermore, there is almost no sexual violence in Naples: mafia members have wives and girlfriends, and they do their best to protect them. I would imagine that a reputed rapist would be shot by mafia very quickly. Organised crime can be better than disorganised crime: there are apparently codes of behaviour adhered to by the mafia that have become entrenched over the years.
Giovanni mentioned that people in the South are generally nicer than people in the North: more exposure to the sun, perhaps? That ties in with Giorgos telling me people in Northern Europe are cold-blooded.
Gino Sorbillo: the place is even more crowded at night - roadblock!
Prices are also very good in Naples: at the best pizza restaurant in Naples (Gino Sorbillo), a marinara can be had for €2.50. Other pizzas like ulderico may be €6, but they have meat and more toppings. The pizza here cannot be praised too highly; after all, Napoli is the birthplace of pizza. After this trip, every pizza will taste like sub-pizza to me. The same goes for the coffee: consistent quality at most cafés, with prices of around €1 to €1.20 for a cappuccinos (please avoid touristy areas). Most cafés here have a good espresso machine and La Cimbali seemed to be the most prominent brand. Back in England, I certainly feel most cafés serve sub-coffee.
I suggested that perhaps prices are controlled by the mafia too: you might get shot for gouging someone with an expensive pizza. Perhaps some fear leads to more honest business. But I am told that they go around demanding protection money, and lots of local store owners have found that unsustainable and begun to band together, refusing to pay protection money.
We were also shown several videos of muggings that occurred around Naples – a very interesting start to my Italian trip.
Street of Naples - with Jason and Donate.
Naples does not strike one as a city that is beautiful externally, unlike Rome, Florence, or Venice. It would not be a first stop for many visiting Italy. In fact, I consider it to be one on of the ugly ducklings among Italian cities. When you first arrive, it feels like Bangkok: mopeds and scooters speed by along narrow streets (inducing fears of being mugged, sometimes), the buildings are not very well-maintained in some quarters, laundry hangs out to dry on residential buldings, and the streets are narrow, with kerbs not marked out properly in most places.
But it is a city that is very beautiful internally. The people are nice (I met no mafia members, though); I sat for breakfast with Jason in a café near our hostel, and I saw a window of a ground floor apartment pop open nearby. A lady has come to enjoy the fresh air. Two people queuing for coffee at our café call out “buon giorno” to her (I presume they do not know each other) and casual chat ensues. Even when I choose my sfiogatella in the café, a local man tells me (although my Italian is found wanting) which pastries are nice. Strangers talk to each other in the café with characteristic Italian warmth; it feels like a very human society. And you can tell they are not just being superficially friendly, like when someone greets you “How are you?” without waiting for a proper answer (that seems to be a rhetoric question in most parts of England).
Sfiogatella and coffee.
There are quite a number of beautiful buildings around Naples, though: we followed Giovanni’s red path.
Duomo.
Church of Gesu Nuovo - apparently every stone is a musical note.
This church has an ashlar (but looks like obsidian to me) facade. The surfaces are smooth and suggest thousands of small pyramids sticking out. Giovanni tells me that the symbols are letters in the Aramaic language: there are seven symbols, each symbol representing a musical note. I did some online research, and it seems that when viewed in the proper sequence, the seven symbols produce a particular Gregorian chant.
Castel dell'Ovo.
Palazzo Reale.
Piazza Plebiscito.
Herculaneum (Ercolano)
The next day I (together with Donate and Lauren) set off for Herculaneum, one of the cities buried by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. It is better-preserved than Pompeii, I am told, because it was covered quickly by a pyroclastic flow of mud, whereas Pompeii was buried by lighter ash that took time to pile up over the city. Besides, most of the relics from Pompeii are in the Archaeological Museum in Naples, which I visited on my fourth day in Napoli. It was a good thing that we arrived early, as most of the tourists had not yet arrived and we had free rein walking around the ancient Roman-era town in a more authentic setting minus the tourists. We did so without a guide: the one we spoke to did not speak good English anyway so we decided to go it alone. It is an impressive town in many ways, and from the layouts of the houses and streets you can tell a lot about how life was lived in those days. The houses of the rich had art and frescoes on the walls as well as nice courtyards. The engineering and brickwork were also elaborate.
Panorama of Herculaneum.
Old columns.
Paintings/frescoes.
Mosaics decorating arches.
Courtyard.
Courtyard and awning.
Mount Vesuvius
After lunch, we took a bus to Vesuvius – it stops halfway up the volcano, and we walked the rest.
View of Naples from Vesuvius.
At the crater of Vesuvius.
I would say it’s just for the view: the volcano itself isn’t so impressive unless you’re into geology; in that case, Iceland is far more interesting.
Sorrento
Unfortunately, we could not visit Pompeii because the site closed at 3.30pm, and we arrived by the (slow) Circumvesuviana train shortly after that. So we took pictures from the outside and then headed to Sorrento, which Giovanni says is a “stupid” place and lots of “stupid” tourists from England and America visit to “do nothing”. In his words: “There are rocks and water. You go to Australia, rocks and water. You go to New Zealand, rocks and water. You go anywhere in the world, rocks and water.” Comical, and I wanted to tell him not all rocks and water are the same!
But Sorrento was a good choice (the Circumvesuviana connects Naples and Sorrento and makes many stops in between including at Herculaneum and Torre del Greco) to see the sunset:
Sunset at Sorrento.
Balcony of hotel at Sorrento, Vesuvius across the sea.
A good retirement town, but even better is Capri.
Capri
Arriving in Capri.
Capri is another place that captivated me during this trip. Every Malaysian my age knows about it from the short story by “The Lotus Eater” (1945) by William Somerset Maugham, which is in the Form 4 syllabus (still, I hope). In this story, the hero comes to Capri from London. He is so fascinated by the beauty of the island that he gives up his job and makes up his mind to spend the rest of his life in leisure there, purchasing an annuity which will pay him money every month until he is 60, when he has decided he will kill himself. However, he fails in the attempt to kill himself.
So, I was duty-bound to visit it ever since I was 16 years of age. From Naples, we took a slow ferry (€11 one-way) which had a journey time of a little over an hour. I even got to see Vesuvius along the way.
Vesuvius from the ferry.
Capri was first discovered by Roman Emperor Caesar Augustus in 29 BC. Apparently he was so impressed by the peaceful charm of the island that he started visiting Capri repeatedly. His successor Tiberius built 12 lavish villas between 27 and 37 AD, one of which, Villa Jovis, is most famous (unfortunately it was closed when I went, but I visited another awesome villa, San Michele).
Many foreigners spent their time and gained some inspiration here: Italian-American painter Charles Caryl Coleman, Maugham, Irish playwright and dramatist Oscar Wilde, Swedish physician Axel Munthe, and the German writer Augustus Kopisch. It’s also a quintessential favourite for rich people, so prices here are some multiples of those in Naples. It’s not too bad, though, as I found a restaurant where I had wine and a good view of the Marina Grande, for €10.
Sailing to the Blue Grotto - with Donate and Lauren.
One of the symbols of Capri is the Blue Grotto, a sea cave inside which the colour is an intense aquamarine blue. It’s fascinating, but I’m not sure it’s worth the money spent to get there: €20 for a sailboat from Marina Grande and then another €13 for the rowboat into the cave: a little touristy, in my opinion. I wanted to rent my own sailboat (€200) but they would not have allowed me to sail it around myself! A better experience can be had just exploring Capri, Anacapri, and the rest of the island on foot (of course, one would need 4-5 days to do that fully, and I was here only a day).
Inside the Blue Grotto (Grotta Azzurra).
Going up in the funicular to Capri Town.
One of the best views (I also saw a photo like this on National Geographic):
View from Capri Town (outside the funicular).
I can see why people fall in love with the place: there is something deeply rejuvenating about its serene beauty. There are colourful houses built on cliffs, two lovely towns with neat streets, restaurants with a view of the turqoise-blue Mediterranean sea, and nature walks affording escapism from the urban setting.
Streets of Capri.
Along a nature walk from Capri Town.
Natural limestone arch with turqoise water below!
Dwelling atop pinnacle cliffs.
Villa San Michele
I stayed on in Capri after my hostel friends had left (Ryo, Lauren, Donate) with the 4pm ferry (it was €6 cheaper than the 8pm one I took but I wanted to see more of the island) Villa San Michele is the only example on Capri of an original historic villa open to the public that expresses the mythical power and influence of this island upon famous foreigners from around the world. This villa is in Anacapri, which is a €1.80 bus ride from Capri.
It’s about 300 metres above sea level, with stunning views of Capri, the Sorrento Peninsula, and the Bay of Naples. Its Swedish creator, the writer and court physician Axel Munthe was staying here between 1896 and 1907. Munthe was appointed physician to Crown Princess Victoria (later Queen) of Sweden. At the same time he was a legendary physician because of his free medical treatment of the poor. The two great projects of his life: Villa San Michele and helping those worse off than himself.
In Roman times, an imperial villa stood here; the ruins are preserved by Munthe and are visible in the garden. The architecture, decor, and art of the house mirror the romanticism and symbolism prevalent during that period. I am a fan of the Romantic era (especially landscapes by Caspar David Friedrich) so the place really appealed to me. Here if you can afford to buy a villa, and an annuity, you can live here in peace, far from the troubles of the world. Why bother with the rest of the world then?
Map, Villa San Michele.
Villa San Michele (inside the house).
Villa San Michele.
Villa San Michele (inside the house).
Fountain Court lined with Graeco-Roman statues
Villa San Michele - marble-and-stone table.
The gardens follow the ideas of Axel Munthe. Mediterranean flora live alongside plants from Australia. There are tulips, cineraria, camellias, azaleas. The air I breathe is distinctly earthy and full of spring.
My house must be open to the sun, the wind and the sound of the sea, like a Greek temple and light, light, light everywhere!
-Axel Munthe
Villa San Michele, pergola in the garden.
Statue of Axel Munthe.
Villa San Michele; view down from garden terrace walkway.
View of Marina Grande from the balcony.
Walkway to The Sphinx.
When the villa closes at 5pm, I leave with regret, and try to make the climb to Monte Solaro for a grand view of Capri. However, the trek up is a little tricky without the right shoes, and I realised it would be dark after sunset and the paths would not be lit, and I didn’t fancy jungle trekking alone without lights: it was also very deserted along the path. So I sat on a stone wall halfway up Monte Solaro for some good shots, such as this one:
Sunset from Anacapri; Ischia is on the right.
The streets of Anacapri, dusk.
View from Capri Town at dusk.
Naples Archaelogical Museum
An excellent museum, which I visited on the morning of the 4th day before leaving Naples. An impressive collection (one of the biggest) of Roman archaeological finds is housed here: statues of Greek and Roman gods, people, and relics from Pompeii. It’s only €6 to visit, and with the Campania Card you can get a 50% discount for this as well as for other sites like Pompeii and Herculaneum (the discounts there are better).
Naples Archaeological Museum: Farnese Bull.
Naples Archaeological Museum: a hallway.
Mezzanine floor room.
Naples Archaeological Museum: wall paintings from Pompeii.
Naples Archaeological Museum: sweeping staircase and balustrade.
Naples Archaeological Museum: Hercules.
Matera
And to another magical place: Matera. I had always wanted to visit Matera after reading an article, The Towns Italy Forgot, in National Geographic. Of course, I didn’t stay in the recommended hotel, which was about €150 a night – I stayed in a less expensive one which also had great facilities and a sassi cavehouse interior.
A typical cobblestoned Sassi di Matera street, at night.
And another.
This was the site of the first Neolithic dwellings in Italy – a sun-baked enclave forgotten for a long-time by the denizens of Italy. When I first arrived, at night, I was a little exhausted as I had walked over 5km from the bus station to the sassi area of Matera. But when I saw the twinkling lights of the sassi, I was glad I came. It gave me a sort of satisfaction, the kind you cannot put in words.
For now, Matera is one of the less touristy places in Italy: many friends were somewhat taken aback when I said I was visiting Matera on my first trip to Italy – why not Rome or Venice? Well, I am going there in the summer – but truth be told, I am more interested in the less touristy places that also offer interesting history, once in a while. I can foresee Matera getting more touristy over the years, given its quiet, rustic feel – but according to the National Geographic article, the albergo diffuso movement is being executed well, and there is a lot of conservation work being done.
At night, the town is brightly dotted up with twinkling yellow lights, casting a warm glow off limestone facades. There’s an authentic ghost town feeling, as almost no one walks in the sassi area at night. Occasionally I bump into a cat, who regards me with the same curiosity. Dogs bark and howl intermittently in the distance; windows are thrown open and you can hear murmurs of conversation behind the stone walls – for there are dwellings on the other side. The air is fresh and crisp; there is a starlit Mediterranean sky above.
The sassi houses are built entirely on one side of a valley, and there are several public balconies from which you can see a half-panorama of the sassi. People are friendly and approachable: when I stopped to ask a passerby where my hotel was, other passers-by stopped to offer help as well, in musical and animated Italian (the only words I understood were dritto and piazza, but their gestures helped). Cosy cafés and restaurants pop up in surprising corners of winding sassi paths.
I ask about Ristorante Le Botteghe, one of the more famous restaurants in Matera. The hotel receptionist says, in her Italian accent: “No no… this place not economico. Maybe about €40. I tell you other places, economico and good”. She also makes me a cappuccino in the morning at breakfast. As an aside, Sid tells me Italians used to sing to each other, and the musicality of the language is a remnant of that. Most of this singing was eventually converted to stage operas (Verdi, Puccini et al), but singing to each other daily was too expensive to maintain.
Nighttime reading spot in hotel.
I awake and remember I’m in Matera when I see a limestone-and-plaster ceiling of a restored cavehouse. Outside my hotel room there is a balcony where one gets a view of a valley with a brook, and a shrubs and limestone-cliffs landscape. The hotel’s breakfast corridor has two viewing windows, one overlooking a similar balcony and another with stone and brick steps leading to a courtyard garden. I escape through another door after breakfast and find the grass courtyard with stone pillars and soft sun illuminating. Cooing pigeons fly out of nooks in the walls, perhaps annoyed at my presence; yellow and purple spring flowers are blooming. The air distinctly smells like spring.
Walls of courtyard, Hotel Le Monacelle.
Courtyard lawn.
I start my trek of Matera (without a tourist guide, since I was keen on the flaneur thing). There are labyrinthine routes and many old stone steps dotted with moss and lichen, some recently plastered over with new concrete and limestone blocks, especially the walls. It’s like Minas Tirith in some ways; it’s a sloping city, fortified in some parts, though built into a cliff, not a mountain. When you walk around, you get a feeling that in medieval times there was a fortress city here, where soldiers on horseback rode up and down those stone steps.
Life moves slowly and cars are infrequent – they are only allowed on some streets, which is nice since it preserves the ancient feel of Matera. The Mediterranean sun beats down strongly and you can tell that the city is well-kissed by the sun. From a gravina viewpoint I can hear the water softly crackling in the brook below.
Panorama of gravina from stone steps near hotel.
In some places the air smells just a little musty and old, which is actually pleasant – it contributes towards a faithful rendition of things past. The tops of the stone walls are low enough to permit me to place my diary on them and write in many picturesque locations. The windows and doors some of of these supposed dwellings are so silent that you wonder if people still live inside. Some paths are cordoned off, but I pushed my luck when I found one imperfect barrier below an arch with hanging creepers – I was hunting for surprises and the flaneur should spare no effort. Already I feel this is the perfect place to play flaneur – though in a pastoral rather than urban setting.
Lichen on the balcony.
Just descended stone steps.
A badly cordoned-off street.
St. Giovanni Battista.
Life in Matera: people chat outdoors in the shade.
I stop to write and snap photos.
Tourist stall and gravina below.
Church built into rock.
Monastery on the cliff - San Pietro Caveoso.
I visited a cavehouse which was inhabited till 1958: an embarrassed Italian government only relocated most of the dwellers, who were living in these cave houses in relative filth, around the 1950s. There was no water supply or toilets in these cave houses, and the features of the house were very basic (although there was a wine cellar). Restoration of these cave houses only began in 1986 or so.
Inside a sassi cave house.
Inside a sassi cave house.
Inside a sassi cave house.
Inside a sassi cave house.
Inside a sassi cave house.
It is evening now and I stake out a spot on one of many balconies in Matera to snap photos of Matera during the day-to-night transition. Little yellow and orange lights dot up the sassi in some sort of sequence, before the sun has fully set.
Panorama of Matera.
Panorama of Matera.
Panorama of Matera.
A late dusk panorama.
Twinkling lights in the sassi (long exposure shot).
Leaving Matera the next day, I did not know which bus to take out of the sassi area, and again, I received help from a hospitable Italian lady at the bus stop. She had to get off a few stops before mine and told 2 other ladies on the bus to tell me where to get off.
Now, I am back in Cambridge, embellished with good memories of Campania and Matera. It was la dolce vita.
