Napoli- the ancestral home of pretty much every tri-state Italian, it seems

I booked a night in Naples to serve as a jumping point to one of the islands: ischia, procida, or Capri,  I figured, we could get to Naples in the morning, get justin some great napolitana pizza, look around at the markets and the craziness it's known for, and then spend the day on an island and go to our next destination, Rome, late at night.

Naples was even hotter than Rome.  So fucking hot.  Not sure that that's even possible.  

We get to the next B&B, which is our first shared home situation.  It's only night.  And it's a 5-floor walk up, which I knew about.  Whatever.  It's good exercise.  That's pretty easy for me to say, as I'm carrying Justin's little carry-on sized suitcase and he's lugging around my 21" suitcase with the busted wheel.  Justin is strong as shit, especially for someone his size, and carries amps around Manhattan all the time, and complains about pretty much nothing ever, but even he was a bit wiped out.  At this point, we spent 2 days in Bologna, three days in Florence, so it really felt like we were just running around the whole time.  He needed a break.  

We get up the apartment, and Emma speaks some mixture of Italian and English to us. She is very sweet.  The 3-bedroom apartment is full of her partner's Enzo's art.  Enzo speaks no English, and is wearing a towel on his waist.  In fact, Enzo never got dressed in the two days we were there.  He just painted, in his towel.  Maybe he just didn't want to go up and down the stairs, or face the scorching Naples heat.  

This is when I realized that I accidentally booked a place without airconditioning.  And when I broke down.  I just wanted to spend the night, and get the hell out of there in e morning.  Poor justin had just gotten his second wind, ready to explore, and had done all this research on what we'd have to do to get to a thermal spa in ischia, and I just shut it down.  I was too exhausted to to to the island that was the impetus behind going to Naples in the first place.

So we gathered some strength, and walked around Naples.  I've heard it described as chaotic and crazy.  We were in a neighborhood a little away from the center, and it was vibrant.  Full of people, hanging out, buying stuff from the markets that open daily until noon.  Women hanging out of their windows, watching the world go by.  Narrow cobblestone streets with people on motorbikes driving too fast.  Kids on motorbikes, no helmets.  We never felt unsafe, even if Emma did tell me to watch my purse. It was VIBRANT.  

We go to the pizzeria mattozzi that Enzo told us about.  Justin absolutely loved the pizza.  So we went back again that evening where we were met with much ruder service... I asked if they were closing, because it was late, and the waiter then said no, but Then threw the food ad justin and scowled and said something in Italian and laughed at us.  It was really weird.  Whatever.  Naples.  They're colorful, We were warned.  

All I wanted was a sfogliatella, a triangle phyllo-dough like pastry that is filled with lemony ricotta cream.  I went for a walk without Justin, and found a place.  I point to it, and say "sfogliatella."  Naples is the first place in Italy where people seem to have no idea what we're saying.  And we're not asking for much.  "un cafe macchiato" was followed by "un cafe machiaaaaaattttttttto?" As if what I said could have been that different from how he said it.  In a coffee shop.  They're not being rude; it's as if they truly don't understand what we're saying.  

The guy gives me my pastry, but when I sit down to eat it, it's not what I pointed at at all.  Man, I hate that.  Until I bit into it, because fuck, that shit was a excellent,  don't know what it was.  Something a little more pastry-like on the outside, almond/ricotta/orange zest on the inside.  We'll call that a win, and I'll just get some sfogliatella at vineiros at home. 

We stumbled upon the castle in the center of town, and it happened that there was a jazz concert there that evening.  Billy Harper, who justin knows, was playing there.  But nobody seemed to know where we could get tickets, and even the flyer didn't mention a website or a time it started.  We got back to the apartment and called the information telephone line, but no information.  We think it was sold out.  But we don't really know, and no one could tell us.

Naples felt like ITALY.  And it was great to be in a town that felt like it was there for Italians, and we weren't going to be able to really figure it out unless we were there for a while.