Entering Napoli

11/2 - Caserta to Napoli

Now, if you read the post before this one, then you will get a back to the future effect, since this post as well as the next describe events that took place before what I am now calling "the epiphany." If you have not already read it, then maybe you would prefer to read this post and the following, and then go back. Anyhow, do not read too fast, since it looks like this blog is slowly turning into a fortnightly publication.

And now to the post:

The day I entered Napoli was, by pure coincidence, the day of the dead. When I heard before coming to Italy that I would be safe and sound but should skip Napoli, I listened but thought it was a bit exaggerated, even though the person telling me was herself from Napoli. But when three out of four Italians, hearing of my plans, suggested and/or passionately urged me to skip Napoli, I started to take heed.

Still, there was no way I was going to skip Napoli, the third biggest city in Italy and home (arguably) to the best pizza, coffee, and dessert in the country. Add to that its position as staging point for Vesuvius, Herculaneum, Pompei, the Amalfi Coast, and over thirty museums in the city area, and you can see why I could consider it an absolute must.

When I started this walk, I faithfully donned my super secret double agent over-the-neck travel pouch, and held all valuables safely against my chest. Having protected myself against all too freuqent ibex muggings, I considered myself outside the danger zone about halfway through Piemonte. Barely escaping with my belongings all the way to Caserta, it was here that I decided to resume wearing that sweat magnet again. They pulled such a number on me that I actually carried my knife in my front pocket, and stuffed the wallet and mp3 player safely in the bag.

So, ready to storm Napoli but slowly convinced to take maximum precautions ("whatever you do, don't make eye contact!"), I embarked on my longest walk yet. Why almost 22 miles? Because I was told there was absolutely nowhere I could safely stop to sleep in between Caserta (or Capua) and Napoli. And it wasn't just anybody that told me this. It was the head of the tourist information office in Capua.

I hate fear. I detest having to "take precautions," as it makes me distrustful, anti-social, and skittish. The whole situation put me in an awful mood, and I walked without stopping for eleven miles.

It did not help that everyone, I mean everyone, was out on the street for the day of the dead. Traffic to the cemeteries was at a standstill as people lined up for hours to honor their deceased relatives. So, smog spewing cars stopped in traffic, combined with unseasonably hot weather and crowded sidewalks, made an already unpleasant walk even worse.

Then, at mile eleven, after stopping for lunch on the sidewalk near a blind curve (safer to eat unseen!), my right pinky toe gave up on me. There was no more putting on my shoe (yes, I know, first mistake was to take the shoe off) with this throbbing, aching digit. So, left with no other options, I switched to sandals. Have you ever walked eleven miles in sandals? How about rubber flip flops with zero padding and thirty pounds on your back? Bad mood.

Ok, the picture has been painted. It was a crappy day, and the sheer distance made frequent rests impossible. But I made it. I saw some horrible neighborhoods, felt ill at ease for seven hours of walking, and was technically an invalid by the time I arrived at the hostel. But I made it.

After a few hours of rest in the hostel, I walked to find dinner, and found a sandwich place in a lively part of town. By luck, I had stumbled onto the soccer game (Napoli-Milano, a great match), and joined dozens of rabid fans cheering on the home team, which unfortunately lost after a courageous showing against a much better squad. Then, rewarding myself with a gelato (where, I should add, the waffle cone was created before my eyes, a first), I returned to the hostel, and slept the sleep of the dead. On the day of the dead.