JFK - NAP
The taxi takes you to an empty parking lot near your hotel and asks for fifty euros on a twenty euro fare. You pay. Welcome to Napoli.
First stop is Gran Caffe Gambrinus. Salt breeze, traffic horns at the roundabout, waves crashing on the breakfront, grinding coffee, steaming milk. A man in a pinstripe suit stands raking a comb through his thinning hair between sips of espresso. Sfogliatella slide on colorful plates along the counter. Then pizza at Pizzeria Brandi. The deep tomato taste. Summery and blood buttery and voluptuous and volcanic. To your tailor.
A second espresso comes while he measures. His assistant brings fabric after fabric. You leaf through them, it’s like trying to find your place in a War and Peace without a bookmark. We settle on a vintage linen. There is enough left for one shirt. For pants, an olive crispaire. He needs to see you again in two days for a second fitting. How to kill the time? He suggests Capri. He will take you across on his boat and drop you at Il Riccio. Si. Won’t the hotels be booked? He knows the owners. Grazzi. Vintage Riva. The smell of varnish and leather. We skip across the water in a fluid bounce. Speed without urgency or purpose is a drug. The sky, a solid blue dome above the cliffs.
Grilled fish. The tongue-tingle of Amalfi lemon. Aperitivo. The feel of cold marble underfoot. The ceiling frescoes. The texture of unmeasured time. Dress shopping. Here, we are easy pray for cinematic gestures. Giorio al Cucciolo: pasta with mussels and clams. Up steps, down steps. An island of steps. Leafy trees blocking views and then into the open. Stunning vistas of surreal color. Gelato piled in baroque mountains. Lemon and Tiramisu.
Wake with soft warm breeze pushing through blossom-scented air. Espresso. Oranges. Trellises. That soul-stirring blue. Summer lighting its chandeliers of flowers. An unbroken panorama of beautiful, unuseful objects. To Casa Malaparte. It’s Le Mepris and Godard. Brigitte Bardot bathing in the grotto. The view of Faraglioni. Down steps. Another boat. Around the island, look up to where Emperor Tiberius threw his enemies from the rocky pinnacle of the island. Dive down and emerge into the Grotto Azzurra.
Back in Napoli, one last fitting, one last Neapolitan pie. NAP - JFK.