Italy travel | Travel Thru History

Italy: Juliet’s Verona

by Sarah Humphreys

“Fair Verona” is brimming with historical and artistic treasures, such as the magnificent Arena, whose sands where once stained with the blood of gladiators, but now hosts one of the most spectacular opera festivals in the world.

However, it is the home of a fictional character which attracts the largest number of visitors. Each year, thousands of romantics head for “Casa di Giulietta”, (“Juliet’s House”), a 13th century building which has been claimed as the probable home of the young girl who inspired the greatest love story of all time. The Cappello family, whose crest can be seen on the wall of the house, are thought to have been the modal for Shakespeare’s Capulets. In 1905 the city of Verona bought the house from the Cappello family and visitors began to arrive.

The tunnel-like entrance to the courtyard is covered in graffiti and lovers traditionally leave their names, snippets of poetry or messages of love on panels that cover the walls, if they can find space, creating a fascinating collage dedicated to love.

The pretty little courtyard is usually crammed with tourists, most of whom are waiting to have their photo taken with the bronze statue of Juliet. Legend states that you will have luck in love if you touch Juliet’s right breast, and the bronze is noticeably worn from the caresses of hopefuls.

The most famous balcony in the world was actually created from pieces of a medieval sarcophagus and added to the original building in 1936. A plaque under the window is inscribed with Shakespeare’s immortal lines,

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East and Juliet is the sun…..
……It is my lady; O, it is my love!”

Behind the statue, the railings are covered in padlocks forming a chain created by lovers from all around the world. Couples write their names on padlocks, which can be bought from the handy gift shop, or bring their own, to write their names on and bind their love forever. This gimmick, which the cynical criticize as being solely a source of commercial profit, nevertheless creates a unique piece of living art, which is constantly changing. According to popular belief couples who leave messages on Juliet’s Wall, in any shape or form, will find eternal love.

The idea of the padlocks was conjured up to discourage romantics from leaving messages and initials on pieces of chewing gum stuck to the walls surrounding the statue. You can still see some of the remnants, plus post-it notes with messages asking for Juliet’s intervention or help in finding a suitable match. However, those who attempt to leave such messages will be awarded a hefty fine if caught.

For a fee, it is possible to visit Juliet’s house and be a would-be Juliet on the famous balcony for a fleeting moment. Inside you can see some Renaissance frescos and the bed used in Zeffirelli’s 1968 film “Romeo and Juliet”.

Every year, Juliet receives over 5,000 letters, many simply addressed to “Juliet’s House, Verona”. Most of these letters are sent by American teenagers. Every missive is read and replied to by volunteers from “Juliet’s Club”, which is financed by the City of Verona.

As for Romeo, number 4, Via Arche Scaligere, just a few streets away, has been designated as his house. The building is private but a plaque on the wall indicates Romeo’s residence. The monastery of San Francesco al Corso is considered to be the location of the final events in the tragedy of the “star-cross’d lovers”. Soon after Shakespeare wrote “Romeo and Juliet”, a real sarcophagus was placed in the courtyard of San Francesco, which was the only monastery outside the walls of Verona, and therefore the only plausible setting for the death of the young couple. At some point in the 13th century, the lid of the sarcophagus and its contents, were taken to a secret location, and have been lost to history. Marie-Louise of Austria, Napoleon’s wife, visited the tomb and had jewellery made from fragments of the empty sarcophagus.

Nowadays, the empty, single sarcophagus made from red Verona marble, can be found in the dark crypt. It is possible for couples to get married here and brides and grooms travel from all over the world to tie the knot in this shrine to eternal love.

Although Juliet and her Romeo may never have existed, the places associated with Shakespeare’s tragic heroine have become a memorial to romantic love, a testimony to the hopes and dreams of those looking for love and a symbol of belief in eternal fidelity.

Private Romeo and Juliet Walking Tour of Verona

If You Go:

♦ The nearest airports are Verona airport which has flights from The UK, Venice Marco Polo airport and Milan (Linate).
♦ Trains run regularly from Venice (1 hour away), Milan (1 and a half two hours) and Bologna (50 minutes).
♦ Juliet’s House is on Via Cappello, just off Piazza delle Erbe. The courtyard is free to visit. Entrance to the house costs €5. Juliet’s Tomb is located in the monastery of San Francesco. Entrance costs €4.50.
♦ Juliet’s House can get very crowded in high season. Try to visit off-season, or go early in the day or around lunchtime.
♦ Juliet’s Club

Verona Private Walking Tour

About the author:
Sarah Humphreys is originally from near Liverpool, UK and has lived in Canada, The USA, The Czech Republic, Greece and Italy. She currently lives in Pistoia, near Florence, where she teaches English, writes freelance and is a part-time poet. She has been writing since she could hold a pencil and her passions include Literature, poetry, music and travel. Follow her on twitter: Sarah Humphreys @frizeytriton.

Photo credits:
Balcony of “Juliet’s House” in Verona by Guilhem Dulous / CC BY-SA
All other photos by Sarah Humphreys:
Juliet’s Statue
Graffiti in the Entrance
The Padlocks of Love

La Dolce Morte: An Ex-Pat Pilgrimage In Rome

Cimitero Acattolico: Rome’s Protestant Cemetery

by Ellen Johnston

The sun stopped shining and the rain came in, as if it knew where I was going – past the Palatine Hill and the Coliseum to the subway, which would take me to Piramide station in the un-touristed south of the city – Rome, that is. The station is named for the nearby Pyramid of Cestius, built in 18-12 B.C. as a tomb for a forgotten local magistrate, a piece of folly that marks the entrance to far more hallowed ground.

Perhaps Italians might disagree with me when I use this term, since this, the Cimitero Acattolico, is the last resting place for those who could not, or would not be buried in the traditional Catholic cemeteries here in the heart of Roman Catholicism. But hallowed it is, nonetheless, since this patch of land, overgrown with weeds and flowers, contains the remains of the some of the most important figures of the last few centuries: local dissidents and those from other lands, ex-pats, writers, revolutionaries, atheists and Jews who, famous or not, all came to rest together here in this painfully beautiful monument to non-conformity. Antonio Gramsci, Gregory Corso, and a cat named Romeo are some among this motley crew, though none of them hold higher places in the echelons of artistic memory than the two greats of English Romanticism buried here: John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley. How could it not be raining, then? It was as if the luminous Roman sky had been replaced for a moment by a melancholy English one, pausing to weep a bit for two lost sons, entombed amidst the ruins, far far away.

Though their names are often intertwined, John Keats and Percy Shelley came to Italy for very different reasons. Shelley, the rebellious Etonian from an Aristocratic family, was leading a wild life, one easier experienced abroad. He was best friends with Lord Byron and romantically entangled with Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin (turned Shelley), the author of Frankenstein. His lifestyle, radical views, and writing had brought him not only fame, but also infamy. Like many writers and artists of his day, he was attracted to the warmth of the European south, to its classical pagan origins, and to that fact that he could live freely there, away from the scandals that plagued him in England. Keats, on the other hand, came to Italy to die.

Born in London of far more humble birth, Keats’ life had been plagued by poverty, the loss of his parents, unfulfilled sexual desires, and the death of his brother to tuberculosis. Unlike Shelley, who attended Oxford, Keats never had the opportunity to reap the benefits of the English academic establishment, never mind rebel against it. Instead, he apprenticed as an apothecary and then studied medicine at Guy’s Hospital, in the city’s unfashionable south. His desire to write, however, eventually drew him away from the medical path – though he never lived its consequences down. In an England where class meant everything, including who could or couldn’t be an artist, John Keats’ Cockney origins and practical training were simply too much for some critics to bear. Of Keats’ poem Endymion, John Gibson Lockhart wrote that “it is a better and a wiser thing to be a starved apothecary than a starved poet; so back to the shop Mr. John, back to plasters, pills, and ointment boxes.”

Besides the cruelty inherent in this statement, the irony was palpable too. Keats’ medical training, no matter how practical it may have been, could do nothing to stop what was then an almost incurable disease, tuberculosis. Not long after his brother died, it became clear that John Keats had contracted the illness too. Knowing that he would not survive the English winter, his friends gathered whatever money they could in order to send him to a gentler climate, a last ditch attempt to save his life.

John Keats sailed to Rome with his friend Joseph Severn in the autumn of 1820. The climate, however, proved not gentle enough, and the disease too strong. Within a few short months, Keats was dead, believing himself to be a failure. He asked to be buried in a grave bearing neither his name nor date of death, only the words “Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.” Those very words adorn his grave today, though his friends, in their belief that he should be recognized as a great poet, added some of their own.

Despite the critics, Keats’ close personal friends were not the only ones to defend him. He also had an advocate in the very man who now lies buried some twenty metres away. When Keats died, Percy Shelley wrote “I weep for Adonais – he is dead!”, the opening to his poem, Adonais, which was written as an elegy to Keats, and considered by some to be his best work. Shelley had met Keats through a mutual friend on a visit to Hampstead, admired his talents, and considered him to not only be a rival, but one who would surpass him. Not long after Keats’ death, Shelley went to visit his grave in the Cimitero Acottolico. Of the visit Shelley said “the cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.” When I visited it myself, there in the broody mist, somber and romantic, I couldn’t help but agree with Shelley’s words.

Shelley was buried in the same cemetery a mere year later, the victim of a violent Mediterranean storm that drowned him while sailing off the coast of northern Italy. A book of John Keats’ poetry was found in his pocket. Shelley’s cremated remains (all but his heart, which was kept by Mary Shelley and eventually buried in England) can be found under a small flat tombstone a short walk from Keats’, bearing the Latin “Cor Cordium” (heart of hearts), and a quote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change is to something rich and strange.”

Visiting the Cimitero Acattolico is easy, though few Italians can tell you how to get there. Almost none I asked even knew it existed. It is free to enter, though donations are requested. There is a tiny visitors centre that sells books and postcards at the entrance, manned by staff who speak English, usually ex-pats themselves. Through the gate, Keats’s grave can be found by walking directly to the left, until you reach the first corner. A plaque written by his friends (complete with an acrostic based on his name) adorns the wall above it. A small bench lies in front, should you choose to sit and contemplate the great poet who believed his life’s work would make fewer impressions than ripples in a pond.

On my own visit, while I sat there overcome with tears, I heard a rustling from the wall above me. From out of one of the vines came a black and white cat, who jumped down onto the bench, and then snuggled up onto my lap. Through my own teary-eyed haze and quixotic imagination, it was easy to believe that in that moment I was being visited by the spirit of the poet himself. Of course, as I got up to walk to Shelley’s grave, straight ahead and to the right, I realised that the cat was just one among many strays who live in the cemetery, and to whose livelihood you can also donate money. However, the impression stayed with me, there on that wet rainy day, as I wandered alone through the grounds of the Cimitero Acattolico. And I emphasize the word “alone”, because visitors here are many fewer than in other famous cemeteries such as Père Lachaise or in Roman tourist spots like Saint Peter’s. When Oscar Wilde visited in 1877, he called it “the holiest place in Rome”. There, breaking bread with the dead, it’s not hard to see why.

Rome Tour with Private English Speaking Driver

If You Go:

♦ The Cimitero Acattolico can be easily reached from the Piramide metro station. It’s a few short blocks away, and can be accessed on Via Caio Cestio.
♦ The suggested minimum donation is €3.
♦ If you’re worried about getting hungry, visit the Jewish Ghetto before you hop on the metro, and pick up a taste of non-conformist Rome. Pasticceria Boccione Limentani sells delicious pizze, a fruit and nut filled bread – sweet, dense and perfect after a long walk. The bakery can be found at Via Portico D’Ottavia 1.

Ultimate Rome food tour

About the author:
Ellen Johnston is a cultural nomad —a traveller, writer and musician who bounces all over the world. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, she has West Coast roots, a Mediterranean soul and a Chilanga heart, thanks to a recent stint in the Mexican capital. She currently resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, trying to soak up a little of all three. You can find links to her other writing and photography at www.chamacaloca.wordpress.com

Photo credits:
Top photo of Cimitero Acattolico by LuciusCommons / Public domain
All other photos are by Ellen Johnston.

Napoleon Never Slept Here

Italy and France: Sailing The Mediterranean

by Tom Koppel

Outside the door of an ancient stone house in the quaint medieval quarter of Antibes, on the Riviera, a sign in an antiquated form of French reads: “Napoleon never slept here.” There are additional words that I cannot decipher. Just then, a man approaches to enter the house. He tells us that some of the women in Napoleon’s family actually did stay there, at a time when the future Emperor was briefly imprisoned at Antibes during the turmoil of the French Revolution. In fact, he adds, Napoleon’s mother did her son’s laundry at an open-air public wash-house, just around the corner on the adjacent winding street. We head off for a look, and there it is, carefully restored as a historic site—a large stone tub, full of water, under a red tile roof. In France, it seems, even the laundry of the country’s most famous historic figure is worthy of note.

My wife and I are on a Mediterranean cruise along the coasts of Italy and France celebrating our 20th anniversary, sailing on the ultra-deluxe Norwegian ship. Sea Dream I, which carries just over 100 passengers. Sea Dream I is a magic carpet, easing us in comfort and style through a region full of fascinating history. We have been anticipating visits to some wonderful ports and are not disappointed. What we had not foreseen, though, is the many ways that Napoleon, or perhaps just his spirit, would keep making his presence felt, as if popping up unexpectedly in little cameo appearances. These underscore just how completely he dominated Europe in his brief but dramatic era of war and conquest, supreme glory and abject defeat.

This quirky pattern emerged even before we embark on our cruise, which began near Rome. We spent a few days at an exquisite boutique hotel, the Lord Byron, in a quiet neighbourhood adjacent to a large, leafy park, the Borghese Gardens. Its centrepiece is the Borghese Gallery, an art museum housing an outstanding collection. One of the most striking of many fine sculptures, in the purest of white marble, portrays a nude Venus, reclining on a sofa and holding an apple. The gallery literature explains that the model was none other than Napoleon’s sister, Pauline, who was related through marriage to the wealthy Borghese family that assembled the art collection.

Our first port stop is Bonifacio on Corsica, the large, mountainous French island where Napoleon was born and raised. It is an amazing, clifftop walled village. Built in the middle ages, this impregnable fortress withstood centuries of threats from the Barbary pirates. Entering the old town by a drawbridge, we stroll through a warren of twisting cobbled alleys, including a narrow street with a house where Napoleon really did sleep, living there briefly in 1793, when he commanded nothing but a batallion of Corsican volunteers. That was just before his rapid rise to power, and the house had been owned by the Bonaparte family for nearly a century.

The next planned destination is the Italian island of Elba, the one place where we would expect to find sites intimately linked to Napoleon’s life. It was on Elba that he was forced into exile (along with about 1000 servants and troops as bodyguards) after a series of defeats in 1814.

Unfortunately, the weather in that area is so stormy that our captain decides to skip Elba and spend the day on the more sheltered side of Corsica, stopping at Calvi, another ancient village with a high, walled fortress. It was not quite as impregnable as Bonifacio, however. The ships of Admiral Horatio Nelson bombarded the town, assisting its capture by British land forces in 1794 during the wars against revolutionary France. Nelson lost an eye in the battle.

Some claim that Calvi was the original home of Columbus, when it belonged to the empire of Genoa. Wikipedia calls this a “legend,” explaining that “because the often subversive elements of the island gave its inhabitants a bad reputation, he would have been expected to mask his exact birthplace.” Perhaps Napoleon’s ghost is also fearful of guilt by association. He decides to take the day off, and we stumble upon no traces of the “little corporal.”

Then we anchor off Viareggio, back on the Italian coast in Tuscany, and take a day trip inland to Florence. We have arranged a walking tour to enjoy the glorious and stunning medieval and Renaissance architecture, monumental public sculptures and inviting pedestrian-only piazzas. It is far too brief, of course, but our personal guide takes us to some special places, such as the studio of a blacksmith who creates fantastic birds, fishes and other creatures in steel, and to the guide’s own favourite and funky “Cafe of the Artisans.” We stroke the snout of an iconic bronze wild boar and share a kiss, thus assuring our return to Florence some day.

Napoleon’s long shadow did not spare Florence. He passed through in 1809 during a campaign to annex Italy’s Papal States and established the short-lived Grand Duchy of Tuscany, with Florence as its capital and another sister of his, Elisa, serving as the Grand Duchess. It was a status she held only briefly, forced to flee in 1813 as Napoleon was gradually defeated (following his Russian campaign) by an Anglo-Austrian army.

Farther north on the Italian Riviera, our ship anchors off the picturesque village of Portofino, with its brightly painted old houses. Once a simple fishing village, it now has an upscale yacht harbour catering to the rich and famous. Going ashore for a few hours, we hike up to a striking castle that dominates the small bay. And sure enough, Napoleon left his mark here as well during the years when France controlled northern Italy. What we see is an ancient fortification that Napoleon modernized, greatly expanded and equipped with better cannons. Not one for modesty, he renamed the village Port Napoleon.

All too soon, after a day in Antibes, our grand voyage ends at Monaco. The town and mountainous setting are stunning, but it is too early in the morning for anything to be happening. Yet we cannot come all this way without enjoying a few extra days on the Mediterranean.

While a student, I had bunked at a unique youth hostel in a little modern castle overlooking Finale Ligure, a lovely stretch of coastal villages on the Italian Riviera only an hour east of Monaco. We decide to return to explore those intriguing shores, with their rich and diverse history. It was here that the 15-year-old Margaret Theresa of Spain stopped briefly in 1666 while on her way to Vienna to marry Leopold I, the Holy Roman Emperor. A triumphal arch commemorating the event dominates the central piazza, not far from ancient fortifications that marked the long-fought-over boundary between Spanish and Genoese-controlled territories. A few miles east is the village of Varigotti with its strikingly Moorish houses. These were built in the ninth and tenth centuries by the Muslim Saracens, who ruled the area for nearly 100 years. Long thereafter, they remained both a threat and a trading partner to the region, bringing such goods as salt from Ibiza when Spain was still under Moorish rule.

We stay at a captivating small hotel, Punta Est, consisting of several elegant villas, nestled in palms and pines, and with its own olive grove, all perched on a cliff high above a long sweep of perfect beach. Deep beneath is a natural limestone cave with a large wooden hot tub, dim lighting and comfortable furniture. The dining is exceptional, including seafood specialties of the region and local Ligurian wines. When the double-doors of our room are left open, we are lulled by the song of birds and the roar of surf far below. It is a place of magic and romance.

But let’s not forget Napoleon, who left his mark here as well. While he controlled the region for a decade or so, he ordered a highly accurate survey and mapping project, the so-called Napoleonic Cadastre. Employing the recently introduced metric system, it helped his officials to take the census and collect taxes. The exquisite resulting maps, drawn in Chinese ink and water colours, are kept today in the state archive of Turin. Accessible on the Internet, they are like a 19th century version of Google Earth.

The details for Finale Ligure are so fine that all the buildings and streets adjoining the central piazza can be clearly seen, along with the triumphal arch dedicated to Margaret Theresa. It is a reminder that the local architecture pre-dates the reign of Napoleon by centuries. He was a product of the French Revolution, which overthrew much of Europe’s old order. He largely destroyed the temporal powers of the Catholic Church and was a major force for secularization. Although it may be tempting to see him as belonging to the ancient past, his era really marks the dawn of modern European history.

Private Day Trip to Antibes and Cannes by Night from Monaco

If You Go:

♦ The luxurious and intimate ships of Sea Dream Yacht Club sail the waters of Europe, the Caribbean, Costa Rica, the Amazon, and much of Asia.
♦For Rome’s five-star art-deco boutique Hotel Lord Byron
♦For the elegant and atmospheric Hotel Punta Est in Finale Ligure

Private Cinque Terre and Portofino Luxury Yacht Cruise

About the author:
Tom Koppel’s latest book is Mystery Islands: Discovering the Ancient Pacific. It is available in Canada from Black Sheep Books, www.blacksheepbooks.ca, in the US at Amazon.com, or directly (signed and dedicated).

All photographs are by Annie Palovcik.

Italy: An Unusual Adventure in Rome

by Doris Gregory

On that stifling July day, the elevator was packed with hot, sweaty people. We had just come down, by spiral staircase and then the elevator, after viewing the Eternal City from the top of St. Peter’s.

The elevator door opened and the crowd surged past nine-year old Wayne, out into the corridor. My son just stood there, with a strange look on his face. “Come on, Wayne,” I ordered, “Move!” “I can’t,” he said. “My arm’s stuck!”

Evidently his arm had been resting on the elevator door. When the door opened and slid into its pocket, it had taken his arm with it.

The elevator operator shouted something in his native Italian and pulled Wayne’s arm free. Then he grabbed him by the other hand, muttered something like “dottoro” to me and the ticket taker outside, and then took off at top speed with Wayne, while I and Linda and Brian, my other two children, one on each side of me, ran behind. We had all we could do to keep up, but had a brief pause for breath when the man stopped at a drinking fountain with the comforting sign “Aqua Pura” and shoved Wayne’s gashed and bleeding hand into the water. Then on we raced down the corridor to a short wide flight of stairs leading to heavy double doors, fronted by two colourfully uniformed Swiss Guards. As we approached, our escort shouted something to them, they moved aside, and the doors flew open. On we rushed, down another long corridor, around a corner, then up one more short wide flight of stairs, where another set of Swiss Guards moved aside and one more pair of doors flew open. One last long corridor and we arrived at what appeared to be the infirmary.

The white-coated doctor shoved a printed sheet in front of me and handed me a pen. I didn’t know a word of Italian, other than “Parla Inglesi?” (to which his answer would obviously have been “no”) but assumed that this lengthy document was one absolving any responsibility of the Vatican for my son’s unhappy plight. I signed it “Can’t read a word of this Doris Gregory” all on one line, not that I had any hope of winning a lawsuit against the Vatican.

The good doctor washed and disinfected and bandaged the hand, after first pulling on the fingers to make sure nothing was broken, which fact he somehow communicated to me by pantomime. And then he held up a bottle labeled “tetano”, at the same time holding up four fingers of his other hand. Since the children and I had all had tetanus boosters just before leaving Canada, I nodded my head. At that time, the boosters were considered to last only four months.

I have absolutely no recollection of how we got out of that maze of corridors. Presumably the elevator operator had remained with us and escorted us back the way we had come.

My children and I will never forget St. Peter’s. We didn’t have an audience with the Pope, but we did get to see areas other tourists never get into!

Footnote: Wayne’s hand healed well and he grew up to be a surgeon.

Private Tour: Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel and St Peters Basilica Guided Tour

If You Go:

ROME and VATICAN TOURS
VATICAN

About the author:
Doris Gregory was born in Vancouver, but spent almost half her life elsewhere, first as a Servicewoman in England during World War 2, then pursuing a career in psychology in the USA and Ontario. Now she is enjoying a happy retirement back in Vancouver, volunteering at Brock House and writing her war memoir, which she hopes to publish during the coming year.

Photo credit:
Image by Michael Siebert from Pixabay

Italy: Naples Beyond the Train Station

by Troy Herrick

“Never again!” I said after my day trip to Naples in 2008. And true to my word I returned in 2009 and did it all over again. But this time my visit was a real pleasure. Like me, your first impression of Naples is colored by the imposing maze of streets adjoining the train station. The success of your visit to old Napoli largely depends upon how quickly you can escape from this area of the city without becoming lost. And the secret to a successful escape is to ride the bus from the Piazza Garibaldi in front of the train station to your first tourist destination.

Begin your day trip by riding bus R2 to the Palazzo Reale. Upon arrival, you are sized-up by statues of eight past Neapolitan Kings set into the external façade including Roger the Norman, Charles V and Victor Emmanuel II.

Once inside, climb the stately white marble Grand Staircase to the baroque style royal apartments. Winged nymphs guard the main entrance. Beyond are rooms filled with 17th to 19th century paintings, frescoed ceilings and furnishings. Stroll down the elegant hallway reminiscent of the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. Visit the throne room which features a well-used royal throne. The red velvet seat and back are badly torn. The Palatine Chapel houses an intricate 210 figure nativity scene on the left side of the room and a scale model of the Palazzo Reale on the right.

The San Carlo Theater, originally built for private performances, is on the ground level. This opera house is second only to La Scala in Milan. An operatic exhibition of props and costumes is spread over 30 rooms.

Leave the theatre and cross the Piazza del Plebicito to the Church of San Francesco di Paola. Its design is based on that of the Pantheon in Rome. At 53 meters in height, the dome is 10 meters higher than its Roman counterpart. While the San Francesco oculus is covered, the Pantheon’s is not. The white marble church interior features thirty two Corinthian columns circling the perimeter and an altar inlaid with lapis lazuli and precious stones.

Fifteen minutes from the Piazza del Plebicito, you find the Castel Dell’Ovo strategically situated atop a jetty. In its time, this 12th century Norman castle served as a Benedictine Monastery, a ducal residence, a state prison and now a showcase for art exhibits. Visitors to the terrace should note that the art works are protected by 6 cannons aimed at the city. This same terrace features a panoramic view of the harbor and Mount Vesuvius in the distance. In the dungeons, you find columns that were part of an old Roman villa on this site. This villa once served as a prison for the last Western Roman emperor, Romulus Augustulus, after he was deposed by Odoacer in 476 AD.

Returning to the Piazza del Plebicito, cross the Via San Carlo to the 19th century Galleria Umberto I. The refined galleria is an octagonal structure, enclosed under a glass and iron dome. Stylish shops and businesses fill this indoor mall.

Exit the Galleria Umberto and board the Funiculare Centrale for a ride to the top of hill. Upon your arrival, follow the signs to the Villa Floridiana to escape the hectic pace of the city. While the neoclassical villa houses the National Museum of Ceramics, the real attraction is the serene garden and the sea-and-sky view of the Bay of Naples. You may wish to enjoy the cool breeze and a picnic lunch from a shaded bench overlooking the city. A number of turtles in a nearby fountain are your dining companions.

After lunch, ride the Funicalare Centrale back down to the bottom and follow Via Toledo through the heart of old Napoli – the Spaccanapoli district. Naples earns its reputation from these chaotic, unkept streets. Common sights include laundry hanging from balconies above the colorful shops and street vendors hawking goods with their operatic voices and theatrical gestures. Enjoy some window shopping as you walk between tightly parked cars and dodge oncoming vespas on your way to the National Museum of Archeology.

One of the finest museums in the country, the National Museum of Archeology features Greek and Roman antiquities. Larger-than-life statues of Hercules, Atlas, Bacchus and Diana meet equestrian statues and busts of long dead Roman emperors. Highlights include lost treasures from Pompeii like the famous mosaic of Alexander the Great meeting Persian King Darius in battle and the statue of a faun from which the House of the Faun derives its name. Several galleries feature frescoes and erotic items acquired from both Pompeii and Herculaneum.

After passing your afternoon at the museum, continue your tour at the 14th century Gothic Duomo. Displayed within the Chapel of San Gennaro, a silver reliquary bust of the saint holds his skull and two vials of his congealed blood. Tradition holds that if this blood fails to liquefy on each of three festival days during the year (the first Saturday in May, September 19 and December 16), disaster will strike the city. Remember that Mount Vesuvius is a short distance from Naples.

On the opposite side of the Duomo, the 4th century Basilica Santa Restituta was the earliest Christian basilica in Naples. It stood alone until 1315 when it was incorporated into the Duomo. The columns inside were recycled from the Temple of Apollo which originally stood on this site.

Dinner time is likely upon you as you walk back to the train station. And this is your opportunity to enjoy original Neapolitan pizza. At the train station, board the R2 bus and experience a genuine Neapolitan traffic jam as you ride to the first stop on the route. Exit the bus and walk through the maze to L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele.

L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele, in business since 1870, is renown throughout Naples for its traditional wood oven-baked Margherita and Marinara pizzas. Add these two items to beer and Coca Cola and you have the entire restaurant menu. Amazingly, wine is not available for some strange reason. A rustic two room interior adds to the ambiance. Savor your meal as people line up outside for a table.

At this point, if you are like me, a good meal and a memorable day trip have dispelled any stress and reservations that you might have had about Naples. The real Napoli is charming, vibrant and colorful. And the secret behind this revelation is a bus ride from the train station.

Naples, Pompeii and Sorrento full day tour from Naples

If You Go:

♦ Find the tourist information booth at the train station and ask for a map of the area.
♦ Purchase a day pass for the bus. This also allows you to use the Metro and the funicular.
♦ Ride the R2 bus from the central train station to the Palazzo Reale.
♦ Admission to the Palazzo Reale was 8 Euros at the time of my visit.
♦ Photography is not permitted inside the Church of San Francesco di Paola.
♦ Admission to the Castel Dell’Ovo is free.
♦ The Funiculare Centrale (funicular) leaves from Via Toledo near the Galleria Umberto.
♦ Entry into the park at the Villa Floridiana is free.
♦ Hold on tightly to your belongings as you walk through the Spaccanapoli neighbourhood as motorcycle riders have been known to suddenly grab items and speed away.
♦ The National Museum of Archeology is located on the Piazza Cavour on Via Pessina. Admission was 10 Euros at the time of my visit.
♦ The Cathedral of San Gennaro is found on Via Duomo. The cathedral is usually open in the late afternoon after 4:30 p.m. Admission is free.
♦ L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele is located at Via Cesare Sesate, 1-3-5-7. Ask staff at the tourist information office in the train station how to find this pizzeria.

About the author:
Troy Herrick, a freelance travel writer, has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America. His articles have appeared in Live Life Travel, International Living, Offbeat Travel and Travel Thru History Magazines. He also penned the travel planning e-book entitled ”Turn Your Dream Vacation into Reality: A Game Plan for Seeing the World the Way You Want to See It” – www.thebudgettravelstore.com/page/76972202 based on his own travel experiences over the years. Plan your vacation at his website www.plan-a-dream-trip.com

Photo credits:
All photos are by Diane Gagnon. A freelance photographer, Diane has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America. Her photographs have accompanied Troy Herrick’s articles in Live Life Travel, Offbeat Travel and Travels Thru History Magazines.
1. The Bay of Naples
2. Church of San Fransisco di Paola
3. Galleria Umberto I
4. Spaccanapoli District
5. Statue of Bacchus in National Museum of Archeology
6. L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele

« Previous Page
1
…
3
4
5
6
7
…
10
Next Page »