See Naples And Die!

I had always considered this famous phrase to be a reference to the beauty and opulence of this once magnificent and thriving city. Alas, in the Naples of today this expression is more likely to allude to the likelihood of either being killed by the noxious air, diseased rats, errant motorists or the local mafia – the infamous Camorra.

My illusions were dashed from the start when I landed at Capodichino Airport and was accosted by several taxi drivers all wanting to charge me 50 Euros (a tad over £40) to take me to my hotel on the Piazza Garibaldi, some four miles south of the airport!
I eventually managed to haggle a price of 20 Euros but instinctively knew this was a harbinger of what was to come.

I decided to have a jog down to Naples harbour on my first evening and became immediately aware of two things; the distinct lack of women in the streets at night and the overwhelming stench of all manner of waste products and carrion strewn with gay abandon in huge windswept piles creating an atmosphere of deprivation and squalor.

I saw a vagrant propped up against the harbour wall in a prone position oblivious to the large brown rats running amok in his vicinity occasionally daring to dart across his pathetic body. Further on I witnessed the first of several bonfires at the side of the road and was later informed this was the Camorra making a token gesture of clearing the rubbish as they have control over the landfill sites and make billions from their ‘enterprise’.
As I ventured into the quieter backstreets I saw gangs of youths just hanging around smoking and drinking in typical macho style, a sideways glance up as I passed appearing to suggest I was being sized up in the same way a bird of prey might calculate the possibilities of a successful swoop. Fortunately for me I was wearing a bright white track suit, yellow bandana and sunglasses and looked sufficiently menacing myself not to be approached without caution.

The never-ending stream of traffic made crossing the wide roads a very dangerous prospect. Although there are numerous elongated ‘zebra-crossings’ it seems motorists do not feel obliged to stop at them and it was not until my second day did I become blasé about this and realise these crossings were in fact a test of your nerve as although traffic would whiz by you fore and aft if you walked directly in front of a car whilst traversing the black and white grid lines, it would play ‘dare’ with you but invariably brake at the last moment. Mainly through exasperation and a kind of stupid bravado, after day two I decided to take a cavalier attitude to the crossings and literally closed my eyes and went for it but always feeling that sense of relief when arriving safely at the other side.
A couple of things I found it harder to get used to on the roads was the constant honking and tooting of horns filling every moment of your day and the propensity of motorists to not only drive on both sides of the road but also on the pavements during the 24-hour rush hour period! Early on in my visit I was knocked out of the way by a passing motorcyclist whilst minding my own business looking in a shop window. And these people do not saunter along the pavements they travel at normal speeds defying you to get in their way.

My second day started with far more promise. A friendly bus driver refused to take a fare for safe passage to the central train station and I was soon on my way to explore Pompeii and Herculaneum, the cities devastated by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD. Despite the almost Arctic conditions one couldn’t fail to gain a sense of the scale of destruction or indeed the painstaking efforts to excavate such a vast area.

On my way back to my hotel I met two French women on the train, one of which had been robbed of all her money on her first day in Naples. I gave her 50 Euros which she reluctantly accepted, both women shedding tears of joy, and I sensed relief, that not all human beings are on the make. This reaction was probably the highlight of my holiday although I was relieved when we parted as it is surprisingly uncomfortable to be in the company of someone you have done a kindness for as you feel this could possibly be misconstrued as either wanting something for your money or probably more accurately because you are aware it is embarrassing for them. Although I love to do random acts of kindness I think this one was prompted by my joy at finally finding someone in Italy who actually spoke English. A French woman!

I took a ferry from Naples to the Isle of Capri the next day. A pleasant 40 minute journey followed by a longer private boat ride around the island to visit the various different coloured grottos. I had been trying to hire a bicycle for days but to no avail so you could imagine my frustration when I finally found a cycle hire shop only to be thwarted by a besom broom strategically placed diagonally across the door jamb to serve notice not to enter. I waited over an hour for the shopkeeper to return and then relayed my plight to a local resident who sent me to the head office of the shop but alas that too was closed.
I decided to take a chance and borrow a bike from the shop and proceeded to cycle up the mountain road towards the summit. I was tooted at by a motorcyclist midway up the climb and soon recognised the rider to be the man who had just ferried me around the island. “Eh” he said “I have never seen you on a bike before. I didn’t know you cycled” Which I felt was really odd as the guy knew I was a tourist on a day trip!
In no time the sweat was pouring off me but 20 minutes later I was at the summit and when a policeman stopped me at the top I thought the game was up but fortunately he merely told me I could go no further and now had to descend. The descent was so fast I passed two motorcyclists which I assumed were tourists as the typical Italian motorist would never let themselves be overtaken (an example of this was when I was on a bus back from the architectural museum and almost unbelievably it re-overtook a passing ambulance which had its lights and siren on at full tilt).
Anyway, when I arrived back at the shop I saw the broom still in place and thanked God for my good fortune.

My final day in Naples was quite eventful. I set out from my hotel with a fellow traveller and was immediately approached by a market trader wishing to sell me a laptop. Now you have to understand that Naples is a huge city and unemployment is high. As well as the many thousands of traditional stores of all kinds there is an even larger number of street vendors, some set up on stalls and others merely plying their trade from the pavement. Perhaps unfortunately for me my friend assured me that I was being offered an exceptional deal as I managed to knock the guy down from 250 Euros to £40 plus my last remaining five Euros. Within seconds of making my purchase another vendor produced the latest state-of-the-art Sony Vista laptop and although I told him I had already bought one my friend now started to sit up and take notice at this marvellous machine. He followed us half a mile up the road and again the 250 Euros original price was haggled down to £45 English. I did of course wait until my friend had the laptop safely in the case before I parted with the money and all seemed well. Or rather my more suspicious friend immediately felt the case was slightly light so opened it up only to find two bags of salt inside. I then opened up my bag to find another two bags of salt. I couldn’t help but laugh but could plainly see my friend was upset although admiring of the skill of the operation. I then became saddened too when I thought of the evil intent of these people. A policeman pulled up in his car at the precise moment of the sting but didn’t want to know of course and I retraced my footsteps back to the hotel in the certain knowledge that I would never see the perpetrators of this crime ever again.
Virtually every stall-holder mumbled words of sorrow as I traipsed past them with my two bags. “Camorra” was the recurring word offered to me as if this justified their silence. It seems every man and his dog knew exactly what was going on but chose to turn a blind eye to these people and let them rob tourists without question. One man told me it was out of fear of reprisal and another one told me it was because it would be futile as the police and carabinieri are corrupt and more likely to imprison witnesses than the Camorra.

I was never so pleased to get back to good old much-maligned Blighty. For all our problems we do not have schools being closed as in Naples because of the fear of disease. We do not have corrupt officials (in the main) and we do not have itinerant salesmen hindering the progress of tourists at every opportunity.

My first stop-off on arrival at Gatwick was to call in to my local supermarket to buy some provisions and I had a wry smile to myself when I spotted two youngsters, wearing fluorescent yellow bibs, picking up the litter from the streets.
It was good to be home.