May 17th, 2024.
They wink back when I say buongiorno, the men on the streets of Naples. The poke their heads out the windows or doors of their houses, smoking cigarettes, watching people pass by. The streets are narrow, the cars and bikes pass fast by, centimeters away from your unprotected body. I’m going to have to be more careful here than in Ho Chi Min.
As I walk toward my walk goal for the day, Gran Caffè Gambrinus, I pass by blocks and blocks of old apartment buildings. Balconies with clothes hanging from them, as expected. The pastel colored buildings. But also, crumbling paint and plaster. A city build centuries ago, and the buildings hanging on to dear life. It all seems so fragile, old buildings on top of old buildings on top of old buildings.
Yesterday I met a Korean in my accommodation, Sin Jang Gun. He has been making pizza in South Korea for two years, and wanted to come to the birthplace of it all. His dream is to one day open up his own pizzeria.
I pass by an open door. Inside, a room with a family around a very old man, laying on a bed in white sheets. The man might have been death, the family seemed to be praying, “Stiamo venerando…”
Less than one hour into the walk, and I’m already feeling tired. I’ve been sleeping less than normal, waking up early trying to take advantage of my short time in Italy. With less energy, I’m observing less, taking less pictures, going into autopilot mode. What’s the point of this? To try to see more, to get less rest. This isn’t how I want to experience a place. To accept that I won’t see it all, I don’t need to see it all. To take my time with a place, well rested, to stop more, observe more, interact more. This is what I want.
My first walk objective is in sight, Gran Caffè Gambrinus. I’ve seen this place before, but not in person. I know the inside from Conan O’Brien travel show in Italy, where he fools around in the café, interacting with patrons and going into energy overload after two or maybe three espressos. As I walk inside, I can help to think of all his antics here, bringing a smile to my face. With those funny memories, and a well deserve espresso, my first in Italy, I start feeling energized again.
I walk pass the statue of Julius Caesar Augustus, along the coastline. Towards Villa Comunale Park, I pass by a man singing. We make eye contact, and he lets out a smiling “Hey!”. Climbing up and down the streets of Chiaia neighborhood, I walk back to Caffè Gambrinus for my second espresso of the day, but before, I must try my first pizza frita at Pizza Esterina Sorbillo. At Gambrinus, as I drink my espresso at the bar, the barman takes a look at my cup, not amused, and stares me down. I’m guessing I’m taking too long with my espresso for his taste? I smile back, his judging gaze having zero power over me.
It’s taking me forever to get to my second waling goal of the day, L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele. This walk is not about the final destination, but at this pace, It’ll take me days to get there. A detour here. A detour there. Let’s check out this plaza. Let’s sit here for a moment.
Near Piazza de San Domenico Maggiore, as I’m taking pictures of a wood workshop, the owner comes to the door and invites me in. Come here, inside, take all the pictures you want, he tells me in Italian. We speak in Italian, Spanish, and English. I tell him my name and where I’m from. “Aah, Camilo Zuñiga, he played in Napoli”. “Yes, he played in my city’s team too back in Colombia!”. When I was in high-school, I used to play as wing back in my school team, the same position as Zuñiga when he played football in Colombia. I would go see his matches and admire his fast style of play.
The workshop owner asked me, “Where have you eaten?”. “Oh I ate at Gino e Toto Sorbillo yesterday”. “Sorbillo? It’s one of the best in the world. No good”. That phrase made no sense, but also, I completely understood what he meant. “Go to San Gennaro Pizzeria on Via Mezzocannone”.
How could I not try the pizza at this new recommendation? I ordered a folded margarita. They take a small margarita and fold in four, so you eat it like a crêpe. The pizza did not disappoint, the sauce was salty in just the right way, and the dough was crispier than the margherita I had at Sorbillo yesterday. I make a note to come back again and continue walking to L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele.
At Michele’s, I found exactly what I was expecting, a big line of tourist waiting to try one of the most famous pizzerias in the world. It was 4pm. I figured if I came back later, the line would be worse, so better do it now. In line, I met an older Canadian lady, Patricia. We started chatting about the Naples and pizza. I told her this was the same pizzeria Julia Roberts visited in the movie Eat Pray Love. That was probably one of the main reasons why we were now waiting 30 plus minutes for a margherita. Thank you, Julia Roberts. Patricia, in turn, also shared some trivia. “I heard they saw Elvis Presley eating here. You know, after his death”. I’m not sure if that’s something she really heard or if she wanted to circulate the new rumor.
The margherita at Michele was good. At the end, I think it’s a must-visit for it’s long tradition (it was opened in 1870), rather than the pizza. It’s a pilgrimage place for Neapolitan pizza lovers… and Eat, Pray, Love, lovers.
Before going back, and after 12 hours on the streets of Naples, I decide to try my first Aperol Spritz. I find the perfect place, Caffè dell’Epoca, just behind Piazza Dante. Tired, feet in pain, I thank for this delicious spritz, surrounded by locals enjoying theirs too, on this spring Friday evening.
