It seems the area I walked around yesterday was in fact the 'arse end', so to speak, of the city.
Today, I walked down to the Castel Dell'Ovo, which sits at the far south of the city on the sea. Surrounding it was a small island which hosted many bars, restaurants and pizzerias (which, by the way, are very different things). There were two American bars, a Scottish bar (presumably serving nothing but whiskey), and three Irish bars. The area was full of American backpackers. Bliss.
I settled in for lunch at a little Italian restaurant over looking the harbour. It was beautiful. As was the table of guys from Ohio sitting next to me. I ordered a pizza, a gran reserva peroni (yes!) and sat and watched the little boats ferry themselves and their families back and forward to the bigger boats and to the rocky breakwater out of the bay (to sunbathe). There was one woman who was acting as a ferry, and charged one euro per person each way. She was a dreadfully fierce, anyone who dared question her price would have been thrown overboard instantly. She continued back and forth for at least all of the time I was there, a good two hours, and her cold expression didn't change once. On one trip, she crammed so many people onto the boat that I genuinely feared for it's buoyancy, as did some of the passengers.
This end of Naples is sort of the 'Sophie Lauren' end of the city, beautifully understated and classy. The harbour has beautiful yachts (most of which I understand are owned by the mafia bosses) and the people are much nicer down here.
I understood 'prego' to mean 'there you go' or 'thank you very much', but it seems that it means everything. That is, it is shouted at you every time you do anything, ask for anything or make eye contact with anyone.
The waiter pointed at the biggest most beautiful yacht in the harbour and said prego. Was he offering me the use of his yacht, was he giving it to me, was he indicating that I had given it to him and he was saying you're welcome....? I had no idea. But when he said 'Sophie Lauren' I understood. The yacht was named for her and was so grand and magnificent that I have no more words to describe it. It was owned by her relatives apparently and is the biggest yacht in the harbour.
I'm rambling. Anyway
I passed a restaurant on the way, it was called 'Here; you will never die'' (in Italian). This is what I'm going to name my restaurant when I'm older. What a name!
In Italy, I'm slowly learning an artform. It is called the art of 'doing nothing'. It something the Italians have mastered beautifully. It's harder than it sounds. I challenge anyone to just sit and not fidget, check your phone, talk, scratch or itch for at least an hour. It's a horrendously peaceful way of being.
Didn't really do much history today. There seems a lack of it in Naples. The Castel Dell'Ovo dates from the 13th Century. It was built by Charles I of Anjou and Naples was the main city protecting, get this, all of Italy (ALL OF) and most of southern France. It's very imposing and has seen much history. In 1486, several Barons from Tuscany plotted against the King, Ferdinand I of Aragon (a relative of Catherine) and hence they were all slaughtered here. There is a hall (Sala dei Baroni) which commemorates them. It incredibly peaceful. Much of the three floors of the museum are in fact room after room of paintings. There is however, a door (facing the sea) which has a 15th century cannonball embedded into it. No matter how anyone has tried, it simply won't budge. It's sort of a Arthur and the sword in the stone affair; the person to pull the cannonball out of the door earns the rights to the castle. Sounded simple enough. I had a go.
Needless to say, I did not earn the rights to the castle. I think they've superglued, or no more nails'ed it to the door.
The castle owes its name to the Roman poet Virgil. Ironic. (I wanted to name my first child Virgil, many years ago) and apparently the castle sits on an egg. This egg, it is said, supports all of Naples. When this eggs breaks, so does the city.
All lies.... The only danger of the city breaking is when the wopping great big Mount Vesuvius blows. This is about due apparently, and now that the volcano has stopped giving off steam, it seems the eruption is imminent. Alas, the people living on the side of the mountain seem not to be bothered, and until they are, neither shall I be.
Not actually done a lot today. Walked about 7 miles along the front of the sea, shall go back there tomorrow. It's lovely...
Anyway. My mind hurts.... Any questions, please forward them to my agent, Sophie Lauren. Many thanks
Until our next meeting, ciao bella
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