Naples Adventures, Part I

It was around noon when four girls stepped out of a plane and into the comforting warmth of Southern Italy. They stowed their bags in the trunk of a cab, and while exchanging stories with the driver in English and broken Italien, the overcrowded streets lead the car deeper to the heart of the city.

It was much how you would imagine the streets of Italy to be, gesticulating car drivers shouting and honking, no one caring for red lights or stop signs, and everywhere dust, swirled up by dirty old Vespas, recklessly channeling their way through the labyrinth. And while the piercing smell of hot rubber made their senses dizzy, there was a sudden confidence between them that this might be the start of a great lovestory.

Now is it possible that their perception might have been blurred, for when when you come from a place like the beautiful but static city of Venice, your heart thirsts for life and vibrance. For something that is not sublime and burdened with history, but very much alive and beating, that is not so much scenery as it is part of something real. And much like after a day of starving a plain piece of bread tastes double as amazing as any other day, after weeks and months of hunger they were willing to swallow the city whole.

They took a deep breath of the dusty heavy air when they finally arrived at the apartment, pulling the trolley suitcases the last metres over cobble stone. There were eight of them in total, arriving one by one, in the tiny two bedroom apartment that would serve as their fort now, and soon there was the crackling sound of plastic cups being unpacked and wine being poured and people clinking glasses to a great weekend ahead.

The rest of the first day in the “prettiest ugly city ever” as one of them did call it was spent strolling, soaking in the sunshine and curiously eyeing the handmade novelties in the thousands of little shops, lining up along the street, always ready to jump aside if one hears the roaring sound of a scooter speeding around the corner. They visited the museum of Contemporary Art, where one can look for meaning between metal sculptures and sparsely painted canvasses, and maybe take an idea or two home. They let the most delicious ice cream melt on their tongue. And they went for dinner at that amazing restaurant that did not even have a menu, but where people were shouting and singing and stomping their feet in the rhythm of the music. So that they fell into bed that night, very tired and a little tipsy, with the greatest expectation for the upcoming day. 

To be continued...