It is immediately apparent that we are in a foreign place. We look different, that is obvious right away, we sound funny and no matter how hard I try, my Italian is far from perfect.
Yet, strangely, it all seems so familiar. The smell of the damp and mould in the cool stone stairwells of all the buildings. The sound of people of all ages screaming and yelling at anything and everything. The eccentric hand gestures while having a conversation. The smell of burning oil as old Vespa’s and beat up Cinquecento’s whiz past. It’s crazy, chaotic and frenzied, yet it all just seems to work.
Let’s take driving for example.
Rule number one for future travellers to Italy... never have a conversation with an Italian while driving. Remember the hand gestures? Yeah, they still exist while driving. So while on the phone, smoking a cigarette and in-between the gear changes they still find it necessary to wave their arms around like the robot from Lost In Space (its name escapes me atm). All of this sans-seatbelt mind you.
The cars themselves are all pretty beat-up. I haven’t seen a car yet that hasn’t had a dent or scratch. That said though I’ve yet to actually see an accident. All the cars a tiny, except for the occasional C-Class or Passat. Something that snuck up on me and scared the shit out of me was the first roundabout we came across. Obviously I was aware of them driving on the opposite side of the road, but entering that first roundabout felt so wrong and dangerous... I definitely clenched up =P.
Cars merge whenever they feel like it and they turn, brake or altogether just stop and have a conversation whenever and wherever they feel like it. Yet there is no road rage or any horn honking, they all just simply understand that it will only take a minute and then they will all be back on our merry way.
But, truth be told, the only way to see Italy is from the back of a scooter. To ride in a car is madness - limiting your mobility to a crawl, preventing you from even venturing down half the narrow streets and alleys where the good stuff is to be found. To be seperated from what's around you by a pane of glass would be to miss - everything. Here, the joy of riding on the back of a scooter or motorbike is to be part of the throng, just one more tiny element in an organic thing, a constantly moving, ever-changing process rushing mixing, swirling and diverting through the city's veins, arteries and capillaries. Admittedly, it's also slightly dangerous. Traffic lights, one-way signs, intersections and the like - the rough outlines of organized society - are more suggestions than regulations observed by anyone in actual practice. One has, though, the advantage of right of way. Here? The scooter and the motorbike are kings. The automobile may rule the thoroughfares of Australia, but in Italy it's cumbersome and unweildly.
The radio station seems to only have 10 songs to play, ranging from Rihana’s Ti Amo, Billionaire and Robby Williams. Its literally the same 10 songs over and over and over... and over again.
The people have been very friendly. As soon as they hear the accent or any English they automatically assume we are Americans. After a quick correction comes the “aaaahhhh” of understanding, followed by the obligatory imitation of a kangaroo as we nod in approval.
Sarno itself is quite spread out, though still a small town. It’s about 5km away from the base of Mt. Vesuvius. Everyone lives on top of everyone else, most of the buildings are old and falling apart, but whenever repairs are needed, no one dares to pull anything down. Repairs or simply patched on as needed, one dodgy home job at a time. That said though they are all full of people and play a part in everyone’s lives. Ironically, the newest building I’ve seen, a fairly modern building steel and glass structure (I’m not sure what it was supposed to be used for) is completely run-down and deserted.
Each day follows a similar pattern. Up with the sunrise, out during the morning before it gets too hot. Home by 1pm for lunch followed by a nap till about 4pm. Then we’ll head out again as it starts to cool down.
We have been quite busy the last few days, as Erika rushes around getting some last minute stuff ready for her wedding. Friday night we went for a drive up Vesuvius to have a look at the cityscape of Naples and the surrounding towns.
Friday we headed off to Pompeii. Spent a bit of time in the city but didn’t venture into the ruins as it was already pushing 30 degrees and believe me its fucking hot in the sun. Friday night we headed to La Volcano. A shopping centre / mall inside a replica of Vesuvius.
Yesterday we went to Salerno, a beach side city reminiscent of Monaco, though not quite as extravagant. A beautiful beach/cityscape of mountains and port all piled on top of each other. Stopped at a small pizzeria on the way home. As you all know, Naples is the birthplace of the pizza. As such, there are pizzerias everywhere and it’s not very difficult to choose a good one. Also, a new discovery. 700ml longneck bottles of Peroni. Smiles all round :) Especially for only 3 Euro a bottle =P
And the wine! Oh the wine... a local red whose rough charms have seriously got a hold on me lately. I don’t care about expensive store bought wines and Bordeaux’s anymore. The high-maintenance Burgundies with their complex personalities. Swilling this young and proudly no-name wine there is nothing else I would rather be drinking. I ask Zio where the wine comes from, he points to an old man sitting on his balcony across the way, reading a soccer magazine, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “O fatto lui” he says.
Till next time, ciao!
