Writing Assignment 7

The greatest contradiction I can think of in Naples is less a solid comparison than a misconception.  Not a single person who I told I was heading south neglected to remind me to be careful and that if no where else they had gotten their pockets picked in Naples.  And without a doubt it’s a rough city harboring more than a few ne’er-do-wells.  And, yes, historically it is shown to have much more significant Mafia/Camorra activity than Rome.  But I had the good luck not to experience either of those sides.  (Even wandering the Spanish Quarter alone with Teo for at least two hours, we walked out of there alive, un-mugged, un-raped, un-kidnapped, with the worst experience being I stepped in dog shit and many, many better ones.)  What I did experience was an unprecedented willingness to push past social boundaries of all kinds to make real contact with visitors.

            I suppose the best example of this has an excellent background to set up a contradiction.  In the most wretched part of town—the projects, the styx, the armpit of the world—on our tour with Alex we were approached several times by curious onlookers not afraid to impose on our group.  The one I finally acknowledge and engaged was probably the oldest, most worn and worst dressed of them yet broke off from his group of friends to give us an inside tour of one of the sketchy buildings we were observing.  I doubt the others we ignored had any greater harm in mind.  If the city is so hostile and dangerous, how do people still dare stick their necks out so far out of mere curiosity?

            The inexplicable sociability goes further, too.  I’ve never had so many interactions with real Italians—ones where I had to do most of the translating.  On the train back I was approached by a man who spoke no English but, rather than give up on the conversation he struck up with me, ended up trying to teach me more Italian words.  The elderly couple I ended up sitting with (who also spoke no English) made sure I knew we were approaching Termini so I could gather my things at my leisure.  Coming back from the castle alone, a store keeper pretty much sang out from across the street (for once in English) that he recognized me from earlier and why wasn’t I with all my friends anymore?  All of these people stuck with me until we were both sure the meaning had successfully been transmitted.

            Perhaps it’s the very roughness of the city that keeps people’s hearts open; if no one made such random acts of kindness the city truly would turn into one big, ugly slum.  Industrial Revolution conditions all over again.  But by keeping so strong a social networking capacity true plagues, like the Camorra and drugs and straight destitution, can’t break down the whole society.