If Naples were an animal, she’d be a dragon. That mythical creature so often portrayed as a gentle soul, but, in reality, one hell of a dangerous force. A fire blowing fury of a city.
Arrivederci, Puff, this Italian baby don’t smoke gently.
I’ve smouldered into a bonfire of tears every day since I arrived. Not sorrowful tears, mind. I’ve been weeping from the pure exhaustion of surviving an experience.
Each time one of those unexpected releases came over me, I’d simply found a peaceful relief. Parking my car. Tracking down a map. Arriving on a quiet street. Reaching Pompeii by public transport. I can assure you, none of these encounters came easy.
Neapolitans have an energy that’s both intense and calm. Simultaneously passionate and indifferent. Immediate, while being laid back. They are tremendous souls. Tremendously compassionate and tremendously exasperating in equally tremendous measure.
Perhaps my five months of yoga immersion up until now was an ideal preparation for shacking up with the spirited dragon that is Napoli? Yoga has certainly taught me how to seek balance in the breath of Vesuvian frenzy.
These past few days, that inner calm has been helped along nicely by welcoming in the beautiful bedlam that is Napolotean tradition. And it’s not all chaotic, it also includes a three hour siesta as standard, eating very very well and ensuring every bite of communication speaks from the heart. Essentially, it involves self love, treating others with love and inviting in love.
And, doesn’t every true love affair start with a volcano? One which finds its spark in a smoking heat, and grows with an abundance of wine, culminating in passionate tears?
Mmm, I think I may have just met my match.