All Roads Lead to Rome
After celebrating Christmas, rather than going out in the snow to watch a newly released movie, as we'd do back home in the States, we drove out in the rain and thunder to take a ferry to Italy. The ferry departed in the evening and deposited us on the west coast of Italy at about 7 am the next morning. We got out, got into our car, and promptly discovered that the parents had neglected to bring any actual maps of Italy to assist in navigation. Apparently, they'd decided to take the adage "all roads lead to Rome" as their actual guiding principle. Which might have worked, had we been going directly to Rome--but my dad wanted to stop by Naples. Thus, we found ourselves endlessly cycling loops of Italian backroads, set out in a way we did not understand, and with occasional directions given in a language none of us could speak. Occasionally, wed stumble onto a bastion of civilization, such as the gas station where we had our breakfast of coffee and pain au chocolat, but then we'd be off again, and lost within a minute.
The gas station was useful though, because that is where my parents learned that one cannot get American coffee (ie, "plain black coffee") in Italy--coffee means espresso. (I have no problems with this personally--why go to Italy just to demand American coffee?) In any case, my mother and I ordered espresso with our croissants, but my dad wanted "just coffee." The server could not understand him. He asked if he would like some milk. No, my father very firmly objected, no milk, just coffee. My father made a sign to indicate a cup of coffee bigger than the espresso cup. Oh, did he want double espresso, perhaps? No, that's not it--we asked if anyone there spoke English. Another employee who seemed to speak some English came out and listened, and tried to relay my father's desires. We could see the server looking at us and the man and back again, rather incredulously. He spoke in Italian to the other man, saying something to the effect of---"so they want two espresso, no milk? And..?" "And a cafe, no milk," the other man finished for him. "A cafe, no milk" the server repeated, looking distinctly like someone just told him they wanted a pan galactic gargle blaster. Then he shrugged, and... served us three espresso. Except that he made one in a separate machine, obviously trying to humor us best he could.
When we found out that "coffee" and "espresso" basically mean the same thing, we felt quite sorry for the poor man, to whom we'd obviously presented an absolutely incomprehensible request.
Meanwhile, gas station aside, we meandered through landscapes both eerie and beautiful. I had not expected country Italy to be so green even in December--rich grass and trees, lush brown earth. At the same time as everything was beautiful, it aso looked abandoned. An orange grove grew within the crumbling walls of a stone ruin, seemingly isolated in a field. Ramshackle farm equipment would occasionally be visible, but mostly trees and crops existed on their own, often among wild and overrun growth. It looked like some kind of impossible landscape from a fairytale, or a Guillermo del Toro film--especially when we passed through fields populated entirely by rows and rows of fantastically twisted trees that looked like they grew upside-down, and cacti.
To add to the eeriness, whenever we came upon more industrial sections, they were equally silent and desolate. We passed by a mall with a completely empty parking lot, all closed up. That was probably due to it being very early on a Sunday, but it contributed to the uncanny feeling of that part of the trip, which, combined with being lost, definitely made me feel as though we were not quite in reality.
We got on a major road eventually though, and from that, found the highway we needed to take to Naples. The landscape changed from eerily fantastic to the merely picturesque and rustic. My sister pointed out that it really was like driving through a landscape painting. My mother pointed out that anywhere else, the decrepitness would signal oppressive poverty and no one would consider it nice to look at, but somehow Italy made it charming.
We passed several far-off cities-on-a-hill with turrets and parapets, and then some more farmland, and then we arrived in Naples.
Naples was, overall, underwhelming. Perhaps because it was the Sunday after Christmas, there really weren't that many people out, and the city, although it had some lovely architecture, looked generally worse for the wear and in decay. Half of it was dug up, encased in scaffolding and under construction, and half of what was left was covered in grafitti and seeming in mid-collapse. Garbage was lying in huge, sprawling piles on every corner of almost every street. The whole ramshackle-and-abandoned aesthetic did not work quite to the same effect in a city center as it did in the country. My father wanted to see the port and boardwalk area, but there really wasn't much to be seen. There was an impressive castle there, but it was also closed to the public, and rather ramshackle-looking on closer view (and likewise surrounded by construction materials and debris). There was a lot of pro-communist graffiti.
'
We had lunch in the Gallerias, after an aborted attempt to go somewhere with more "local color" and then having to leave because the owner did not know any English, and we did not know Italian, and there was no menu. On our way there though, we saw someone's wallet get snatched by a guy on a scooter, who reached into his mark's jacket, got his pocketbook, and then just sped away.
We managed to make it through our stay in Naples with all belongings intact. And even found a restaurant where they spoke English, even if the server considered shrimp to be "fish," and fulfilled my request for no cheese on a dish that came with provolone by sprinkling parmesan all over it instead. (And upon my pointing out I wanted no cheese, asked "what, it is too much?" and was utterly befuddled by the idea that I really meant NO cheese of any kind. For which I do not blame him really, it is not much different than demanding American coffee.)
The food was fresh and delicious though. Anna and dad assured me that the freshly made mozzarella was very good, and the vegetable antipasti dishes were really wonderful. Mmmmmmm, skillfully prepared zucchini and eggplant and lots of olive oil.
After lunch, we took a longer walk around the city, and then got back in the car and drove to Rome. Where we had dinner at a quite vegan-friendly restaurant, and retired to our hotel with lovely decor but a very spotty internet connection.
The gas station was useful though, because that is where my parents learned that one cannot get American coffee (ie, "plain black coffee") in Italy--coffee means espresso. (I have no problems with this personally--why go to Italy just to demand American coffee?) In any case, my mother and I ordered espresso with our croissants, but my dad wanted "just coffee." The server could not understand him. He asked if he would like some milk. No, my father very firmly objected, no milk, just coffee. My father made a sign to indicate a cup of coffee bigger than the espresso cup. Oh, did he want double espresso, perhaps? No, that's not it--we asked if anyone there spoke English. Another employee who seemed to speak some English came out and listened, and tried to relay my father's desires. We could see the server looking at us and the man and back again, rather incredulously. He spoke in Italian to the other man, saying something to the effect of---"so they want two espresso, no milk? And..?" "And a cafe, no milk," the other man finished for him. "A cafe, no milk" the server repeated, looking distinctly like someone just told him they wanted a pan galactic gargle blaster. Then he shrugged, and... served us three espresso. Except that he made one in a separate machine, obviously trying to humor us best he could.
When we found out that "coffee" and "espresso" basically mean the same thing, we felt quite sorry for the poor man, to whom we'd obviously presented an absolutely incomprehensible request.
Meanwhile, gas station aside, we meandered through landscapes both eerie and beautiful. I had not expected country Italy to be so green even in December--rich grass and trees, lush brown earth. At the same time as everything was beautiful, it aso looked abandoned. An orange grove grew within the crumbling walls of a stone ruin, seemingly isolated in a field. Ramshackle farm equipment would occasionally be visible, but mostly trees and crops existed on their own, often among wild and overrun growth. It looked like some kind of impossible landscape from a fairytale, or a Guillermo del Toro film--especially when we passed through fields populated entirely by rows and rows of fantastically twisted trees that looked like they grew upside-down, and cacti.
To add to the eeriness, whenever we came upon more industrial sections, they were equally silent and desolate. We passed by a mall with a completely empty parking lot, all closed up. That was probably due to it being very early on a Sunday, but it contributed to the uncanny feeling of that part of the trip, which, combined with being lost, definitely made me feel as though we were not quite in reality.
We got on a major road eventually though, and from that, found the highway we needed to take to Naples. The landscape changed from eerily fantastic to the merely picturesque and rustic. My sister pointed out that it really was like driving through a landscape painting. My mother pointed out that anywhere else, the decrepitness would signal oppressive poverty and no one would consider it nice to look at, but somehow Italy made it charming.
We passed several far-off cities-on-a-hill with turrets and parapets, and then some more farmland, and then we arrived in Naples.
Naples was, overall, underwhelming. Perhaps because it was the Sunday after Christmas, there really weren't that many people out, and the city, although it had some lovely architecture, looked generally worse for the wear and in decay. Half of it was dug up, encased in scaffolding and under construction, and half of what was left was covered in grafitti and seeming in mid-collapse. Garbage was lying in huge, sprawling piles on every corner of almost every street. The whole ramshackle-and-abandoned aesthetic did not work quite to the same effect in a city center as it did in the country. My father wanted to see the port and boardwalk area, but there really wasn't much to be seen. There was an impressive castle there, but it was also closed to the public, and rather ramshackle-looking on closer view (and likewise surrounded by construction materials and debris). There was a lot of pro-communist graffiti.
'
We had lunch in the Gallerias, after an aborted attempt to go somewhere with more "local color" and then having to leave because the owner did not know any English, and we did not know Italian, and there was no menu. On our way there though, we saw someone's wallet get snatched by a guy on a scooter, who reached into his mark's jacket, got his pocketbook, and then just sped away.
We managed to make it through our stay in Naples with all belongings intact. And even found a restaurant where they spoke English, even if the server considered shrimp to be "fish," and fulfilled my request for no cheese on a dish that came with provolone by sprinkling parmesan all over it instead. (And upon my pointing out I wanted no cheese, asked "what, it is too much?" and was utterly befuddled by the idea that I really meant NO cheese of any kind. For which I do not blame him really, it is not much different than demanding American coffee.)
The food was fresh and delicious though. Anna and dad assured me that the freshly made mozzarella was very good, and the vegetable antipasti dishes were really wonderful. Mmmmmmm, skillfully prepared zucchini and eggplant and lots of olive oil.
After lunch, we took a longer walk around the city, and then got back in the car and drove to Rome. Where we had dinner at a quite vegan-friendly restaurant, and retired to our hotel with lovely decor but a very spotty internet connection.