A (Tame) Bacchanalia in Napoli

Travelogue 5

I arrived in Napoli at midnight. I grabbed a taxi and provided the address to my hotel, one of the historic buildings about half a kilometer from the sea. The taxi driver was gregarious and spoke to me about life and politics in Italy, frequently turning back to look at me eye to eye. He did this even as he turned the vehicle into blind corners. Being used to drivers in Greece I was almost unphased by this. Almost. There was a part of me that wondered if that would be the last journey of my life. Still, it seemed that the vehicle had autopilot years before Tesla invented it. The seeming threat to my life though seemed to jolt me into wakefulness. I didn’t want to live under a shroud.

One evening the colleagues I was teaching invited me to join them at a restaurant just outside of Napoli that is built over an excavation site of an ancient villa. The floors are all glass so you can see the archaic rooms below. On a tour of the restaurant/museum, we are taken to the tombs where they also keep the wine so that the ghosts, once more, can also enjoy the libations.

There was a set menu that involved a ten-course meal. Yes, you heard that correctly, ten courses. Several platters arrived after the several bottles of Italian wine that included ten different items, from salads, to antipasto to soups and some other tapas like foods (e.g., grilled eggplant rolled over cheese, savory meatballs, and the like). This was a feast for the gods of wine and vine, a bacchanalia — but a moderate one. There was no orgy and we maintained a respectful though intoxicated professionalism.

Based on the sheer volume of the food and that there were ten different items (we counted), we all believed that these platters were the ten-course meal. Consequently, we gorged on the delicious treats we were offered. Little did we know that there were many more platters to come. This was merely the first course, the appetizers. Unfortunately, I could not really enjoy the grilled chicken, roasted vegetables and lamb, fish, and pasta dishes that followed. I did leave room for the tiramisu though; it was like enjoying liquor-infused Italian coffee that was baked into a fluffy cloud. Italians certainly know how to eat. I vowed to know better and pace better the next time. Nevertheless, the food and conversation were grounding and the shared wine served the Dionysian purpose of releasing some weight.

After another day of teaching, I explored the ancient streets of Pompeii looking for ghosts, wondering if they were still walking the street trying to figure out what happened to their dreams. I wondered how long my ghosts would wander and how to help them rest.

In Napoli, I enjoyed walking the narrow streets, I upgraded my fashion with a couple of new Italian shirts, and I relished in the local cuisine. I chose more conservative options over the next few days, often indulging in the famous Napolitan pizza more frequently than I like to admit. The professionals I was teaching energized me with their passion for their work and their excitement over the stories I shared. I left for Greece feeling both tired and energized.

Perhaps because of the pandemic and the fact that I have not travelled in a couple of years, I have enjoyed weaving into my writing the places I have been and some of experiences I have had there. I have also enjoyed reading about other people’s relationship to places and spaces. There is not enough room to list all here but I would like to give a shout out to Evelyn Cheung who most recently reminded me about how a place sometimes calls to you, even when you don’t expect it.

This story is part of my travelogue series. Here are some previous examples: