I arrived in Naples rather late last night, close to 10pm. My first impression of the city was that it is filthy. Not the typical grime one finds in large cities. No, I'm talking about garbage strewn everywhere, with piles of it on nearly every corner. The ground is covered in litter and no one seemed to notice or care.
My friend Jay later told me that the mob has a strangle-hold on garbage maintenance in the city, which accounts for the gross lack of care in that regard. Apparently, the city maintenance workers have effectively been on strike for 30 years.
I walked 35 minutes through the dark, garbage-strewn streets, dodging cars and pedestrians alike, until I found what looked to be the right street.
It took me a solid 5 minutes in what was effectively a dark alley with several loitering young men for me to find my hostel. I had to call to get explicit directions as there was no indication on the door, nor any address number outside. Instead, I had to read various number pads outside several doors to find the place. And that was with the receptionist on the phone.
Once inside, the place was fine. Populated with about a dozen young adults, most hanging out together in the kitchenette, I found the space arrangement to be interesting, and, more importantly, clean. I'm in a room with two other women, both obviously college age, and there are beds for another three. The room is large, airy, and comfortable.
I found the bathroom to clean up and brush my teeth, and there was my first encounter with a bidet.
My daughter has forever said that she wants one as she thinks they're brilliant for their intended purpose. And I've been chastised by at least one Frenchman for not understanding the necessity of such a thing. So I suppose now is as good a time as any to Google how to use one.
Ah, Americans and their weird hang ups. You'd think after a week in Barcelona, where shit jokes are a dime a dozen, I'd have gotten over my ridiculous Puritan oddities. Nope! Clearly not.
Finding tickets to Pompeii was also a trip. In general, I'm pretty savvy when it comes to public transit. I've ridden it all over the world with minimal trouble. Naples, on the other hand.... ah, Naples.
It took me a solid 20 minutes, asking four different people, and a guard to effectively hold my hand to find the right train to Pompeii this morning. I'm finally on the right train - I hope - and am speeding toward the ruins that have dogged my dreams since my friend Brian and I saw the exhibit in Portland two plus years ago.
My friend Jay later told me that the mob has a strangle-hold on garbage maintenance in the city, which accounts for the gross lack of care in that regard. Apparently, the city maintenance workers have effectively been on strike for 30 years.
I walked 35 minutes through the dark, garbage-strewn streets, dodging cars and pedestrians alike, until I found what looked to be the right street.
It took me a solid 5 minutes in what was effectively a dark alley with several loitering young men for me to find my hostel. I had to call to get explicit directions as there was no indication on the door, nor any address number outside. Instead, I had to read various number pads outside several doors to find the place. And that was with the receptionist on the phone.
Once inside, the place was fine. Populated with about a dozen young adults, most hanging out together in the kitchenette, I found the space arrangement to be interesting, and, more importantly, clean. I'm in a room with two other women, both obviously college age, and there are beds for another three. The room is large, airy, and comfortable.
I found the bathroom to clean up and brush my teeth, and there was my first encounter with a bidet.
My daughter has forever said that she wants one as she thinks they're brilliant for their intended purpose. And I've been chastised by at least one Frenchman for not understanding the necessity of such a thing. So I suppose now is as good a time as any to Google how to use one.
Ah, Americans and their weird hang ups. You'd think after a week in Barcelona, where shit jokes are a dime a dozen, I'd have gotten over my ridiculous Puritan oddities. Nope! Clearly not.
Finding tickets to Pompeii was also a trip. In general, I'm pretty savvy when it comes to public transit. I've ridden it all over the world with minimal trouble. Naples, on the other hand.... ah, Naples.
It took me a solid 20 minutes, asking four different people, and a guard to effectively hold my hand to find the right train to Pompeii this morning. I'm finally on the right train - I hope - and am speeding toward the ruins that have dogged my dreams since my friend Brian and I saw the exhibit in Portland two plus years ago.
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