OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY: Part II

Here is part two of my observations of Naples, Italy. Again, let me reiterate in case you’re just tuning in, these observations are of SOUTHERN Italy, specifically the Naples region. There are big differences between the North and South of Italy, the same as in any country actually. So here are some additional things I noticed about Naples.

I previously spoke about how loud are Neapolitans. Let me expand on that. Neapolitans seem to have a certain affinity for yelling. They revel in it, snuggle up to it like a warm parka in the dead of winter. Now, black people can also be loud, but the act of yelling in black culture generally accompanies laughing or fighting, i.e. extreme moments of excitement. For Neapolitians it accompanies more mundane acts, eating, or walking, even breathing seems to illicit yelling episodes. The number of times I've been speaking to my girlfriend and she started yelling at me for no reason! Of course I start yelling back because well... I’m black and these count as extreme moment of excitement for me.  We've had countless “arguments” where I’ve had absolutely no clue how they began! One time we were talking about milk. Yes, milk. Not about what milk philosophically represents, or the history of sustenance.. just milk. Next thing I know we are screaming and yelling... about milk. After a moment I realize the madness going on and had the sense of mind to ask her why she was so angry over milk. She looked at me like I was the crazy one and said she wasn't angry at all. Talk about a WTF moment! I thought she was joking for a second, using reverse psychology to win the “argument”! But she was being sincere! Apparently yelling does not equal angry in Naples. So that of course begs the question, what happens when they actually are angry??!! My girlfriend and her sister will often sound like they are up in arms over something ready to kick off their shoes and roll up their sleeves! Catfight! Nope. Just talking about the weather...

Ok, so even though they can be ghetto and yell entirely too much, Neapolitans’ bark is much worse than their bite. All in all they are extremely nice people. I mean, everyone drives like a maniac here. Red lights don’t mean stop, apparently they mean access the situation and decide on the best course of action while still moving, terrifying for the uninitiated. After a while, you begin to notice the insanity is infused with niceness. Pedestrians always have the right of way, even if they are in the wrong. I live in Berlin and pedestrians are treated only slightly better than gypsies; real talk. Another thing is, they’ll yell of course, make wide arm gestures naturally, but no road rage. Not saying it doesn’t exist! But I haven’t ever seen it myself in Naples. The people accept the chaos of the roads and work around it and use being super nice as the common denominator through it all... and it works! Throw in how you are always greeted with a smile and kisses..  even from men, which is still taking some getting used to but hey, coming from emotionally void Berlin it’s a nice change,

The last thing I have to mention and I’m sure many of you may have expected it is the mafia, or as it is known in Naples, the Camorra. No one ever really sees the Camorra; you just see their hands, if you know what I mean. Now, in Naples, if you want to do anything, and I do mean anything that is a money making venture, you have to get permission from the Camorra. Period. PERIOD! You want to start painting pictures of tourists near the beach? Yep, you need approval. You want to help people find parking spaces in crowded areas and hope they give you spare change? You got it, needs approval. To an outsider it makes you wonder how anything gets accomplished in the area. But when you look more closely at Naples, there are a lot of empty dilapidated buildings and vacant lots teeming with potential. In no other city do I know are prime real estate plots with views of the sea undeveloped. Just wouldn’t happen in New York or London or Sydney. In Naples it is an epidemic. If someone does open a shop or center or even children’s museum that doesn’t have approval or doesn’t pay enough.. it gets burned down. Yep. They fire bomb the place. The smell of burnt concrete in Naples is just as common as the smell of sea water or the catch of the fishermen.  And it is so engrained in their culture. One would think that at some point people would rise up and say enough is enough! There is a huge scandal in the region at the moment because it was revealed the Camorra created fake holding companies to bid on European Union waste removal projects. They came in with the lowest bids so were awarded hundreds of millions of euros to dispose of the most vile and repugnant stuff known to man. Know what they did with it? They took it to the small towns and villages of the Naples region and buried it. Where people are living. The cancer rates in these areas are astronomical! Much of the ground water and farmed food is contaminated. People are dying and you can’t drink the water or eat the food, yet, other than a few protests (large) and decrees by local politicians, nothing has changed. Me being me, I asked. I wanted to know. From the answer I get the feeling that the Camorra is as much a part of the society in Naples as the air they breathe. Good or bad, the past, present and foreseeable future will include the Camorra. The anger of the people is more directed at the politicians for allowing this to happen when they were aware of who won the contracts in the first place. It is how it is here. This region is slowly dying with the lack of jobs and opportunities and now poison.  BUT there is real opportunity for revitalization which is cause for hope, and sadness if significant changes aren’t made. That is Naples. 

OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY

For many years I worked in Italy as a director for intensive summer English camps. It allowed me to extensively travel throughout Italy. Most of the sites I worked at were predominately in the North of the country. Now that I’m with someone from the bottom half of the country, Naples, I’ve had the opportunity to explore more of the South and observe the culture in a way I never could before. I’ve noticed a few things about Southern Italy...

I don’t consider myself the “average” American in the sense that I’ve lived in numerous countries, speak multiple languages and the majority of my friends are non-Americans. I am up-to-date on most international socio-political issues. One example would be why Spain is called the Balkans of Western Europe, or having the ability to explain the difference between Kurdish and Turkish cultures to confused Germans. So, imagine my surprise when I was instantly corrected when I called someone from Naples, Italian. “I’m not Italian, I’m Neapolitan.” And they said it with attitude! Like, “Get it right negro!” Well excuuuuuse me for not being informed about the underground resistance movement in the region fighting for more autonomy from Rome! In case you missed it people I’m being sarcastic. No such movement exists.  People from Naples first and foremost associate with their region. End of story. And you better not get it confused either! To do so might get you cut!

I’ve actually lived a few places where this is the case. Go to the Basque or Catalonian regions of Spain and you get the same thing. The difference in Spain is that the rest of the country vehemently fights to keep these regions connected politically, culturally and economically.  In Italy, it feels like the rest of the country could give a rat’s ass about Naples, seriously. I would even go so far as to say that if Naples decided to leave Italy and formally declare itself an independent country that there would be quite a few cheers and parties of celebration in the North. I’m almost positive Italian politicians would seriously debate if it were worth it to bring them back into the fold. No way would this happen in the states. If a city or state even JOKED about leaving the union the rest of the US would seriously get an attitude, hence why most of America distrusts Texas. 

My thing is, I think the rest of Italy underestimates the importance of Naples and all it brings to Italian culture. I also get why Neapolitans are so proud of where they come from. In a sense, their story is comparable to Black Americans. Hear me out now and let me break it down for you. I always thought I spoke Italian until I started going to Naples to visit my girlfriend’s family. I then learned I spoke Veneto which is a dialect from the North. As I worked there the most it made sense.  People in Naples have their own language. Trust me; it is its own language. When people speak it they might as well be speaking ancient Greek cause I get NOTHING of the conversation. Very similar to Ebonics in my opinion when white Americans with no contact to black American culture hear it. Many consider Ebonics to be a low-class, uneducated, bastardization of “proper” English. Same as how many Northern Italians consider Neapolitan. However, when linguists began studying Ebonics they found a complex grammatical structure with syntax rules that bridged certain deficiencies in modern English. I’m thinking Neapolitan has the same complexity if people took the time to study it. Ebonics was the natural evolution of a spoken language that African slaves were forced to learn and modified it to fit their personal needs. Look at the history of Naples and you’ll find a rich history of diversity from the people who lived and ruled there.

Another parallel I found on the cultural level. Much of the culture we assume is Italian is actually Neapolitan. Much of what we consider to be American culture began as black culture before it was co-opted into mainstream U.S. culture. Gospel, Jazz, Blues, R&B, Rock&Roll, Hip-Hop and even Techno are all innovations of Black Americans. We hear pizza we immediately say Italian. No. The first pizza was made in Naples and it wasn’t until years later that it made its way to the rest of Italy. And lord do Neapolitans take their pizza serious! If it’s not made a specific way that meets standards set in like the 1700’s they don’t call it pizza. Really. Call it whatever you like but you bet not call it pizza! The number of arguments I’ve had over what constitutes pizza in Naples is mind-boggling. Most of the songs non-Italians associate with Italy are actually Neapolitan songs. Many of the country’s most famous actors come from the Naples region. The area is a powerhouse when it comes to anything connected to film and music. Who knew??

Another way that Neapolitans are like black people? They are ghetto. Oh my goodness are they ghetto! I say that with affection! Ghetto has become a code word for a host of negative assumptions, but in reality many of the most beautiful and fascinating things came from the ghetto; the Jewish culture often times flourished in European ghettos, the Civil Rights movement in the states started in the ghetto, music, food, art forms, all started in the ghetto. Neapolitans are ghetto in the ghetto sense of the word too, just like black people can be. They are loud! House full of people and everybody speaking like no one can hear properly.  And to prove your point one has to talk louder than the other person. Whoever talks the loudest wins the argument. Through all of this the TV is on full blast for “background” noise. Sound familiar black people?? Then they will talk mess about all their family, but if you say one bad thing about one of their crazy cousins that they spent an hour bad-mouthing you might get shot.  Just because they talk bad about their family, culture or region does not mean YOU are allowed to do it. Period. In this life or the next. Or you’ll die. Horribly. Twice. I get it though! It’s like how black people are with the N-word. There is a huge debate going on in the black community right now over its use. Everyone has their opinion on if it causes damage to us as a race and sets us back as a people. In saying that, if a white person EVER ever, evereverever used the N-word around a group of black people they would literally be taking their life out of their own hands and placing it in that of those black people. It would be up to those black people if that white person lived or died. I’m not joking. THAT’S how Neapolitans are and why I feel so damn comfortable there.

These observations are getting long! Gotta break them up into two parts, stay tuned for part two! 

FAMILY HOLIDAY 2013/2014

At this moment I am sitting at a desk in an Italian villa that rests atop a hill. There is a window in the room that overlooks the Bay of Pozzuoli and I can see the lights of Naples, Italy spread out before me like a buffet for angels. It’s breathtaking. It is not a bad place to be for Christmas at all. The food I’ve eaten today is the stuff of legends; four different types of home-made pizza for lunch alone. When I say home-made I mean the woman woke up at 5am to make the dough from scratch! For dinner we had three different types of salad, two different types of fish and breaded vegetables and that was only the starter! The main course was a lobster pasta dish. LOBSTER PASTA! Who knew that even existed!? All topped off with desert, wine literally made by the hands of my girlfriend’s father and limoncello. Amazing! Throw in the sunshine and warm weather and one could hardly ask for more! I can’t complain.. I mean, I shouldn’t complain. It’s not really complaining at all. It’s just... I miss my family.

The last few years I’ve made it a point to go home for at least 3 weeks to the states around Christmas. It gives me the time to meet up with friends, soak up the sun and most importantly reconnect with my family. Even kinfolks require the opportunity to reinforce bonds and strengthen ties. I expected this year to be no different, me flying home around December 10^th lounging around catching up on YouTube videos that are blocked in Germany, sneaking around trying to eat more than my fair share of my mom’s famous sweet potato pies, riding a bike and trying to explain to people I’m not gay for being 38 and having no kids and am not serving time in prison for staying away so long from my family. But as we all know, life often has other plans for us.

Living in faraway lands for the past 10+ years is something I regularly express in gratitude to the travel gods. The number of fantastic memories I have created are uncountable. At the same time, I am painfully aware of the missed chances to make memories with my own family. It is a delicate balance us wandering spirits must constantly be aware of to keep the scales from toppling over. In all honestly, the scales I speak of would probably be more manageable if I were able to express myself a bit better face-to-face as I am in the confines of my journals. I often see those posts on Facebook that urge us to let those we love know how much we appreciate them being in our life, yet how many of us truly reach out to our loved ones and let them know how we feel? I do try, but we all have our scars that hinder movement and prevent us from reaching out as far as need be.

This blog entry is me trying to reach out as far as I can, as far as need be to reach out to my family to let them know why I make the effort to be around them every year, even if I don’t express it verbally enough.

To my mother.. at this point I should just take the sun, dip it in chocolate and then drizzle honey all over it and attach it to this post. There is no way to express in words how much I love my mother, but that image that may have flashed through your mind’s eye with that description you just read might give you an idea. The sun not only warms, but provides nourishment, it brings life, and it raises spirits. That is my mother. Then the chocolate cause I mean, who doesn’t love chocolate! And who doesn't love Ms. White!? For real though! Then honey because I believe we forget how great honey is at times. Honey is like nature’s super food. There are all these healthy benefits they contribute to honey and the public tends to forget that at times with all the commercials for supplement this or enhancement that. Honey is natural, wholesome, under-appreciated and if more people used it in its pure form we’d all be better off. Skype is fine with my mom, but I’d much rather have a real hug. Or just to lay my head in her lap for a few minutes... yeah, the sun dipped in chocolate then drizzled in honey.. that’s my mother and I love her immensely for that.

To my sister Niki, Nikki, Nicole or however the heck you spelling your name these days! I don’t think she realizes how much I love her. When I am home I am always reminded of how much she impresses me. I appreciate St. Petersburg more and more as I get older, but I don’t hide my... ambivalence for it at all. The city isn’t exactly a mecca for high fashion and creativity, nonetheless, my sister finds a way to be on point with anything she does. She walks around and I have to remind myself I am not in New York, London or Paris but South St. Pete with her fashion sense. She has taken a hobby and turned it into a profession. Even her peers recognize her vast talent and that’s saying a lot cause you know how brown people can be when it comes to acknowledging others! And her daughter, my niece... Talk about an amazing young lady. I joke that her Uncles have a huge influence on her awesomeness, but in truth, she is just emulating her fierce mother. Love you to death...

To my brother Corey who is the epitome of an Aries. I don’t always agree with my brother’s views on history, or politics or social commentary, but I can appreciate the fact that he isn’t accepting what the mainstream says and is rightfully questioning everything. It is much easier to accept the status quo than it is to seek the truth and find your own answers. His answers are not mine, but that’s probably because we are asking different questions. I respect him because he is asking questions. The day we stop questioning is the day we stop improving and the day we stop trying to improve is the day we begin to die. I embrace my brother’s will to keep living. That and he can keep his mouth shut. Oh the secrets Corey has about me and never shared, a very rare trait to have these days. That’s probably why I consider him to be one of my best friends. I love you.

To my brother Ryan who thanks to Facebook surprises me at least three times a week. He posts these random quotes and stream of thought updates that I have to catch myself from liking because more often than not I should be working and don’t want people to think I’m available. He has this way of cutting to the heart of the matter that I love. The other thing that impresses me is he’s fearless. He posts things that are windows into the very fabric of his thoughts and heart. At 24 there was no way I was capable of doing that. Hell, it wasn't until I was well into my 30’s before I could even begin to fathom that and he does it so effortlessly at such a young age. Damn that is extraordinary. Love you like a fat kid loves cake. And you know I love me some cake!

This blog entry is starting to get long, but it’s the holidays and everyone has a few days free so I have to also say:

To my brother Dana who somehow finds a way to constantly smile and be positive no matter the situation and being a good father in the absence of a positive father figure growing up. That is another entry all in itself but you show up every single day to put in that work. Utmost respect.

To my aunt Ms. Doris (Tiki) Who has shown me what “Ride or Die” truly means. This woman has taught me what sticking up for your family is meant to be about. I need somebody to have my back when we gonna be in the thick of it? I’m calling my Aunt Tiki. Bet.

To my cousins:

To Sir Brock who isn’t waiting for his dreams to become his reality, but turning his reality into his dreams.

To Nico who has raised the good husband and father bar to a whole nother other level!

To Yook I’m Him for keeping it real... since the womb. Real talk.

Every Christmas time my family gathers, we eat a lot of great food then we retire to the family room and play Taboo together as a family. All told it’s at least 15 people including wives and children. By far it is the highlight of my holiday. It’s that release of energy that is expressed through laughter and squeals of delight that manifests itself into the intangible bonds that bind us together as a family. Immersing myself into that is why I try to get home for Christmas every year. It is to be a part of that love and add my own to the pot. I don’t say it, but I love each and every one of them more than they will ever know. I am not with them this Christmas, but I do believe I love them a little bit more this year than I did last year.