#naples italy

[dankomaksimovic]

ph. Danko Maksimovic - Naples, Italy (2023)

Film: Kodak Portra 800

[howamidrivinginlimbo]

The streets of Naples, Italy

I heard a lot of bad things about Naples before going there, but I have to say that my experience was very positive. The streets look less clean than up north or in Puglia, but the ambience was good and the people were very friendly. I definitely want to go back, because I've only seen a miniscule part of the city.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Thomas Hoepker. Naples, Italy. 1956

* * * *

"when it comes down to it, you are all alone, and yet you are like a conspiracy of criminals”

— Gilles Deleuze

[alive on all channels]

[whereskatieandgrady]

Naples Pt 2

If I had to describe Napoli in one word, it would be energy. Not energetic, but energy itself. There's vitality, there's vigor, there's liveliness filling the streets of Naples, all with some grit but it adds to the spirit of the city.

[oceanblues70]

5:30 AM

[lavenderdreams7]

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A post shared by Katarzyna Bigaj (@kasia130573)

[nugothrhythms]

"Murder's Prayer" by Naples, Italy-based darkwave trio Neila Invo off of their 2022 release Alienation

[justmychampagneproblems]

Street art in Naples, Italy

[rasmasandra]

Visiting Naples

Naples is Italy’s third largest city as well as one of its oldest and most artistic. There are many lovely churches and cathedrals, museums to enjoy, and the shining Mediterranean Sea. The Lungomare is a beach promenade stretching along the shore for 2.4 km along Via Partenope and Via Francesco Caracciolo in the Chiaia neighborhood. Here you can have lovely views across the bay to Vesuvius. To…

[conegl]

THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS FREDERICK JOSEPH II , IN NAPLES ITALY

[rayeshistoryhouse]

^Drying spaghetti in Naples, Italy, 1923

rayeshistory.com

[dankomaksimovic]

ph. Danko Maksimovic - Naples, Italy (2023)

Film: Kodak Portra 800

[howamidrivinginlimbo]

Reliefs from the Hadrianeum in Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli

The persons represent provinces of the Roman Empire under the deified emperor Hadrian. The left figure is Scythia or Noricum, the middle figure is Armenia or Parthia and the right figure is Phrygia or Bithynia.

[fatsamsgrandslamspeakeasy]

My Italian-American grandmother has made these same cookies at Easter and Christmas for decades. On paper, she wrote the name of the cookie as Cassadellia (but pronounced as some form of ‘gazadeel’— she is from Naples, and they have a strange Italian dialect there, hence the crazy pronunciation for lots of words!) Growing up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and 1970s, these were a staple around the holidays! An absolute MUST-HAVE!!! And also a great gift to friends and family members whose houses we got to visit around each holiday. She got the ‘recipe’ from her mother -my great grandmother, who was also from Napoli. I’d love to learn more about the cookie, but in true Italian fashion, the ‘recipe’ itself was only written down a couple of years ago, has been passed down by word of mouth, has many guesstimated measurements, and lots of baking with the heart. So here are a few links that have the almost identical recipes for the very same cookies. Just, whatever you do.....DO NOT forget the anisette! Happy baking, and a Merry Christmas to all.......

Italian Christmas Cookies

[traipseartist]

The dregs of October 11th, October 12th - Paris, Rome, Naples, Bed

After bon vivanting around Paris, Aneyn was kind enough to take me out for another round of drinks and dinner--this time a little closer to home. We trekked to a bar or two in the Marais hopeful but pragmatic about the nature of Paris on a Friday night and eventually settled in at a place called The Cambridge Club (truly adorable coming from my Oxford-grad host). The vibe was perfectly gloomy and the drinks fabulously twee.

Then after flirting with the blonde, beach-haired server, we paid our dues and made our way to a new spot called Piccote.

We ordered with eyes to functional dishes and received some unique takes on certain French classics. I am still wishing I could summon our cheese course back into existence. Then, sleepy eyed from the week, wandered home, sneaking some mango and chocolate ice cream from a late night spot that sold empanadas (?) on our way back.

Back in Aneyn's flat, I mentally prepared myself for the early morning tomorrow, repacked my suitcase, and watched Aneyn's stockinged feet bob along to a Beatles' song while hanging off the side of a loveseat huddled in a corner of her studio. She read me the history of Grace O'Malley (lady pirate, Irish, general bad-ass) and her piratical career. I am thankful to have good friends after all this time and after all.

I am sometimes reluctant to count travel days because the airport, especially, eats my soul. (I promise, one day, I will post a long and unoriginal kvetch about airports. I am currently fighting that impulse.) But I don't think you get to traverse three major cities in a day and write it off, so I report in despite this being a hobby I do for fun.

I took the metro to O'rly after bidding Aneyn and her lovely Parisian flat adieu. I decided at some point in the packing process to only pack a duffle (that has straps to easily wear it as a backpack) and an incidentally matching backpack (which I wear on my front like a nervous tourist or that weird kid you went to middle school with) because in my experience navigating airports and the metro with wheeled luggage--especially subway systems that existed before escalators were common--is harrowing. It also has the added bonus of giving a mobility that people with rolly-bags do not have. I am almost always able to rush down the stairs to catch a train. I always make it through passport control first. I can snake down stairwells while everyone waits cow-eyed for the elevator. Usually it's worth the cost of carrying literally everything I'm traveling with for X days on my back. But sometimes...

Well, let's just say Europe was definitely built for skinny people and tiny bags. And not the wonky, lateral disaster that is Marisa the Mobile-Luggage-Sandwich.

But we hobbled through security, ate airport quiche (that had no right to be of the quality it was), nodded off on an easyJet full of giggling French humans sneaking away for the weekend, and loped through FCO on a mission to meet Rose, who had landed about an hour earlier from her 12 hour slingshot via SFO.

We needed to be in Naples by 2100, and it was only 1430... How much of Rome could we squeeze in?

Turns out... Some!

We scuttled to Roma Termini via the airport's train hub and (for a small fee) left our bags with very audible humans who urged us on. From there we bumbled across the touristic landscape, locking eyes with old buildings--famous and unfamous.

Rose and I chatter about recent life events while stepping around slow moving tourists and tiny merchants trying to hawk everything from external batteries to tiny, water-spitting fans. Catching up, we wove our way to an early dinner at Osteria Da Fortuna.

The energy inside the little restaurant was minorly riotous. Humans slipping in and out and by and through. The menu was too long for a place that had a woman hand cranking penne by the host stand... You were getting the pasta--why else were you here?

I had a glass of rosé rosato that made me mourn America and after some deep breathing (to fit in more pasta) we slipped out and bolted back to the train station to meet our insistent Neopolitan Airbnb host that was getting increasingly nervous that he didn't have a solid arrival time from us yet.

We bought tickets for the next train (accidentally for the following Saturday... Oops), pulled our luggage back from the jaws of the bagliagi deposito, and waddled with earnest fury to the platform that would send us at breakneck speeds hundreds of kilometers south to Napoli.

After a little confusion we hopped from Garibaldi station down to the local metro and bobbed and weaved around teenagers, small barking dogs, and the dark mysteries of late-night Naples. Winding our way through the Centro Antico like rats in a maze, we dove out of the way of speeding Vespas and ducked under hanging laundry in the tight and high-walled streets of the ancient city.

Our host, tired of waiting to hand us keys, sent a cryptic video of the path to his Nona's house from the front gate of our rented apartment and I sat whistling a tune while Rose disappeared to go negotiate with a non-English speaking grandmother.

After sleuthing to figure out which of the dozens of units was ours off of the main courtyard, we whispered to four separate locking mechanisms. Climbing up another flight and a half of stairs and into beds firm enough to put bounced change in ceiling plaster, we beelined it for bed.

Tomorrow, Napoli in daylight. Capri from the water.

[oceanblues70]