Its beautiful. It all fits. Milan is the snooty catwalk model, dressed for the gods with an attitude to match. Rome is the sexy showgirl. She loves the arts. She wears comfortable shoes. Its best days are in the past but she still has a lusty air about her. She looks sweaty and tired and is scruffy around the edges. A cigarette hangs from the corner of her mouth.
And after a few glasses of Aglianico wine, she starts looking pretty good again. Or you can experience the city by the bay and get gunned down. I love its lustiness, its passion, its chaos. They may have the most passionate soccer fans in Italy. Also, the pizza is indeed stupendous. Yeah, its bay front has lost its luster from the time when Ancient Romans built villas on what was considered the most beautiful bay in Europe.
Elena Ferrante wrote four novels about life in post-war Naples. Marina, my adventurous girlfriend and photographer supreme, and I came down last weekend on the lure of the written word. We had both been to Naples numerous times. I remember my first trip in It was before Christmas and the churches were all decorated with presepi , the miniature nativity scenes popular all over Italy.
I walked toward one to get a closer look. The vision seemed blurred. As I approached I learned why. Other times Naples served as a tasty connection on my way to Bay of Naples islands such as Ischia, Capri and Procida or sojourns down the Amalfi Coast to the south. Rione Luzzatti. Photos by Marina Pascucci Naples is convenient. It read 75 degrees.
It felt like Instead we crossed Piazza Garibaldi which is much dirtier. The smell of urine hit me like descending a New York subway staircase on a hot summer night. We walked east down Via Taddeo da Sessa, away from the crowds in Centro Storico west of the train station.
