“For he who returns to thoughts of Naples can never be unhappy.” – Unknown
This quote perfectly sums up my feelings about the city of Naples, a fascinatingly complex city, the definition of an ambiguous place. After we got to Naples and were quickly walking towards our hostel, I was constantly looking over my shoulder and checking my pockets. After hearing a story about a woman being dragged by her hair, being told to leave all valuables back in Rome, and reading news stories about race riots in the south, I was terrified of the Neapolitan culture. I envisioned that the people who I would come in contact with would be racist, cold-hearted, cruel, and selfish.
Arriving to a labor strike that was causing a traffic nightmare, we were welcomed to the city by thick, stale air and a symphony of car horns. “This is definitely a faster paced city than Rome,” I thought to myself. After making the trek to our hostel, we were greeted by a smiley receptionist. From that point on, I can honestly say that I did not meet one soul the entire rest of the weekend that I spent in southern Italy who did not treat me with kindness that extended above and beyond what I personally would consider normal. After a windy two-hour bus ride to the small community of Maiori, Erika and I were utterly exhausted and couldn’t figure out where our bed and breakfast was located. We asked a middle-aged woman,
“Dov’e il Palazzo Coco B&B?”
“Ah Antonio!” she exclaimed as she whipped out her cell phone to call him. She walked us to the massive church in the middle of the community where Antonio met us, kindly offering to carry both of our bags up the 150 stairs to his place. From our friendly waiter at dinner who offered us free dessert after we had eaten all of our food to the knowledgeable man who showed us around the housing complex in the periphery of Naples, nobody that I came in contact with in southern Italy spoke to me rudely or treated me with any degree of disrespect.
This was exactly opposite of the way that I expected to be treated, I was anticipating someone to get their wallet stole, planning to hear gunshots every so often. I cannot deny the fear that accompanied the unfamiliarity of Naples. I was afraid that I would be in danger, that I would not enjoy the things that we did in class, skeptical of the cleanliness of our hostel, anxious about traveling independently on the weekend. All of these aversions were completely invalid as I can truthfully state that this past weekend was one of the most eye-opening and breathtaking experiences that I have had in a while, both in class and traveling on my own.
I cannot describe my impressions upon seeing the “greatest architectural mistake in all of Italy.” In one building, 1,200 people could live, meaning that if these structures were built in my hometown, it would only take 5 of them to contain the entire population. They looked like a cross between military barracks and dorm rooms, but much dirtier and more unkempt than either of these options. A complex network of staircases and bridges connected the apartments, and it seemed that a family would enjoy very little privacy. If a city was truly pressed for space, this option would be ideal. But how humane is this living situation, especially with plenty of space surrounding this building project? I was utterly amazed by the poor shape that the grounds were in, supposedly it had not been cleaned or kept up in the past 30 years. Looking at the outer part of the building, every few windows were shattered. Stained clothes hung outside the windows. Doors were chained shut with padlocks. I was not surprised to learn that people were not willing to pay the Italian government to live there because of the conditions. I was fascinated to see this different way of living, to see the contrast between this housing structure and others that I had seen in Rome and Naples. It was refreshing to see the opposite of the “bella figura” for once.
Beneath the façade of a middle-aged man who enjoyed talking about the drug trade and used curse words often, Alexander Valentino, our tour guide/ guest speaker was extremely clever and insightful. Speaking about the race riots in the south, he emphasized the involvement of the Comorra and how widespread their influence is on political and social life in Naples. “It is not the common Italian people, and race isn’t necessarily the issue,” he said. “The government chooses to look the other way as homes of foreign workers burn so that they can continue development in this area.” Hearing this and judging from my own experiences in southern Italy, I realized the generalizations that I and others had made about the entire Neapolitan culture were not completely true. Yes, the crime rate is higher. But the majority of people exude a kindness that is unique to the region, one that I had never been the recipient of before. I also realized that I tend to do this in other situations, when someone tells me that they had a bad experience with something or someone (a teacher, place, etc.), I assume that all things associated with this thing are unpleasant, that I will have the exact same experience, and this causes me to miss out on experiences that I would have otherwise. People are unique, complex beings who cannot fit into any single mold. They behave differently in varied environments, possess unique morals, and are defined by their life experiences. People that belong to a certain group cannot all fit inside a certain mold. I personally had my own idea of what a Neapolitan would be like, and I did not meet one person who fit that stereotype.
In short, my expectations of this past weekend did not align with the conditions and events that I actually experienced. In a city with a high crime rate, I met some of the most patient and gentle people that I have encountered in Italy thus far. I preferred walking around the supposedly “sketchy” area of the Spanish quarter and observing the lifestyles of authentic Italians over looking at paintings and statues in the Archaeological museum. I had the opportunity to lay out in the blazing seventy degree sun in February. Rome seems different now, still like home, but not quite as the superior city that I had seen it as before. Naples, a city that effectively handles the issues of the Camorra, the pressures of being in the shadow of Vesuvius, and the expectations of those in the North, has pleasantly surprised me with its genuine spirit, and I hope to soon return.
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