Living on the Via Napoli

I have been in my apartment now three weeks today.  Blessing of blessings, the last of the boxes are out and the apartment shows the classic signs of my quirky personality.  The black and white pictures of old Hollywood movie stars line the living room walls, and the vintage California travel posters are once again encircling my bookcases.  As my new friend Susie pointed out, I decorate with Grace Kelly.  Pictures will be posted soon of the new apartment.  I have gotten alot of requests for them so I will jump on that.  I can't seem to find my camera cord so as soon as I wade through the various drawers into which I threw all misc. items from the move, I will proceed to upload the pictures so that all my friends and family can have a taste of what it is to live in Italy.

Until then, I will describe with words what it looks like.  As I wake up each morning, I walk down my tile hallway and open the doors on my balcony.  The waves of the Mediterranean Sea splash on the rocks of Pozzuoli, the side town next to Naples.  I can smell the salt in the air, especially during these blustery days of autumn.  I watch the old ladies walk down the alley next to my building, to the Catholic Church that hides next door.  Below my balcony sits my landlord at a cardtable.  He, and 4-5 of his closest friends, sit there passing the time either playing cards or watching the people as they walk down the street.  They ask me now everytime I walk out the door, "Maura, stai andando a correre? you...go for....run?"  I guess they have seen me so often as I go for a run along the water, they assume that is all I ever do.  If I am going for a run, I begin by running along the Via Napoli, the promenade along the water on which I live.  I head up the hill and pass all the trattorias, cafes, and gelaterias.  The water is a great attraction, and many Italians parade along it at all hours of the day.  As I run by I pass whole families walking their dogs, young couples kissing, old couples kissing, and adult children pushing their parents in their wheelchairs along the water.

The restaurants are a flurry of activity starting around 8 every night.  Until that point, most people pass the time people watching or calling out to their friends from their respective balconies.  The driving in this area is crazy, as mopeds and scooters dodge traffic, moving in between cars, even in the oncoming traffic.  The traffic is so slow at times, mainly because people pull out without looking and just blindly enter into traffic.  The stop and go of leaving Pozzuoli or Naples can cause muscle cramping.  My foot is perched perilously over the clutch pedal from the moment I start the car to when I safely park at my destination.  I am lucky though; my apartment is on the main street of Pozzuoli restaurants.  Most nights we meet up at a new restaurant and all eat family style, splitting Mozzarella de Buffala and prosciutto e  Melone as an antipasti.  The pizza here is to die for.  The brick oven was truly a gift from Heaven.  With each bite into a Neapolitan pizza, I reminded how this is the birthplace of this fabulous dish.  Red wine is the drink of choice for most of my friends and me, and we usually split a few bottles with each meal.  The bread, the oil, the pizza, the pasta: all these foods are what is causing me to have to run so much!

My own car, the Sante Fe with its glorious automatic transmission should be all fixed and ready for pick up today!  This is not a moment too soon!  Though my car troubles have allowed me the ability to find such wonderful friends like Jo, Melani and Ryan (all of whom have let me borrow their cars in the last two weeks) I will be so relieved to not have to feel the annoyed chagrin of every Pozzuoli native as I stall on my way to work.  I don't know if they think that the constant beeping and yelling will make me start up the car any faster, but after two weeks of driving the stick shift, I can tell you all it does is make me take even longer to get up all the hills.

As stated before, the pictures will be coming.