SALERNO
In the month of March, I have visited Salerno three times. On the first of these occasions, a group of us went (Martina, Paolo, Pellegrino, Gianmario, Caiulo, and Chiaretta were among us). We traveled in the decrepite cars of Paolo and Pellegrino, passing the leather factory district along the way. The entire area was pungent with the stench. It took us about 40 minutes to get there, including a cigarette break on the side of the highway (looking at the stars while le machine whizzed by was beautiful), and a stop for benzine. When we arrived in Salerno, we first walked near the sea, passing a flea market, boats for rent, and some night clubs. Sea salt was in the air, music playing, and children were about in the streets.
We then began to explore the city (This was done entirely upon my own initiative. Chiaretta was willing to go with me, but Martina came along only because I begged.) We abandoned the boys in an empty piazza, where they hung about smoking cigarettes and talking about Metallica.
The old city of Salerno is amazing. Stone corridors weave in and out between buildings, beckoning passerby. The passageways twist and wind away from the sea and into the ancient history of the city. As we walked, I kept pointing out crackling paint on walls and intricate lampposts. Annoyed the hell out of Martina, although Chiaretta appreciated my different perspective and was in similar spirits to my own. There was one door in particular that captured all of our attention for a while. It was wider than most, and seemed to be made of brass, with six imaged panels inscribed in latin. Chiara thought that perhaps they were Bible stories, but I pointed out that this wasn't likely, as the images depicted church officials, such as the Pope, dating the panels well after Biblical times. There was one of a beheading that could have been John the Baptist, however, and I delighted them by recounting the story's gory details. We then attempted to translate the latin, figured out some of it (although most remains a mystery), and then went on our merry way.
Eventually, we decided to go back to the boys. Along the way we passed some church steps, which we proceeded to climb. The steps went pretty far up, while the street was going downhill, creating quite a distance in between. I decided to be daring and sit on the stone banister, my feet dangling over 15 metres above the street. Chiara joined me, but Martina refused, which by this point in the night, could have been predicted. Usually she's game for anything, but she was in one of her moods. After a while, we left the steps, continuing back to the boys in the piazza. I didn't really want to go back, because returning to the boys meant returning home. I saw my chance to delay us a little longer at the next church we passed; it had Pantheon-like pillars,which remained level with each other as the street dipped downhill. I wanted to sit between two pillars on the far end, at least 20 metres above the street level. I started weaving my way to the spot, hugging myself around the other pillars to get there, the street dropping lower and lower. As I inched my feet along the marble wall, I prayed I would not fall to my death (or paralysis). The boys had come over now to watch, and were shouting "Che cazzo stai facendo?" ["What the fuck are you doing?"] and "Sei pazza!" ["You're crazy!"]. Eventually I got to the spot, sat down triumphantly, and after some prodding (involving calling everyone else pussies, which is somewhat less vulgar in Italian), Chiara, Martina, and Caiulo were sitting with me. Paolo refused to come up because he's afraid of heights, and the others were too busy smoking cigarettes. After a bit more sitting (how exciting and eventful, yeah?) we came down, and shortly after drove home.
The second trip to Salerno was on a Saturday. The class had done a mass ditching, and had neglected to tell Martina about it (she gave them hell on Monday), so we went to school anyway. Once il professore realized we were the only two attending classes, we (and by "we" I mean Martina) convinced him to let us leave. We were already up, so instead of going home and back to bed, we called up Caiulo and took the bus to Salerno. We had some trouble with our tickets (we purchased lesser-value tickets by mistake, and a bus official checked them along the way, making us get off at a stop and buy new ones, which was quite irritating). Anyway, once we arrived it was straight to the boardwalk. Salerno is lovely in the daylight; it lacks the mystery and the magic of the night, but it has a pure sort of happiness that comes out when the sun is shining.
We found a seaside cafe/bar and Caiulo bought us espresso. I actually enjoyed mine for the first time ever, which indicated that I have finally become accustomed to coffee. After the espresso, Martina and Caiulo had cigarettes. I decided I wanted one (another first), and requested a Winston (crap brand, but still better than Merits). I feigned smoking for a bit until Martina talked me through how to properly inhale. I ended up taking three "real" drags on the cig, coughing my lungs out each and every time. I hated it, although my companions found my reaction to the smoke to be hilarious. To wash out the taste of death from my mouth, we bought gelato [My flavors: Hazelnut and Black Chocolate. The latter tasted like brownies-- delicious!).
We then began to explore the city (This was done entirely upon my own initiative. Chiaretta was willing to go with me, but Martina came along only because I begged.) We abandoned the boys in an empty piazza, where they hung about smoking cigarettes and talking about Metallica.
The old city of Salerno is amazing. Stone corridors weave in and out between buildings, beckoning passerby. The passageways twist and wind away from the sea and into the ancient history of the city. As we walked, I kept pointing out crackling paint on walls and intricate lampposts. Annoyed the hell out of Martina, although Chiaretta appreciated my different perspective and was in similar spirits to my own. There was one door in particular that captured all of our attention for a while. It was wider than most, and seemed to be made of brass, with six imaged panels inscribed in latin. Chiara thought that perhaps they were Bible stories, but I pointed out that this wasn't likely, as the images depicted church officials, such as the Pope, dating the panels well after Biblical times. There was one of a beheading that could have been John the Baptist, however, and I delighted them by recounting the story's gory details. We then attempted to translate the latin, figured out some of it (although most remains a mystery), and then went on our merry way.
Eventually, we decided to go back to the boys. Along the way we passed some church steps, which we proceeded to climb. The steps went pretty far up, while the street was going downhill, creating quite a distance in between. I decided to be daring and sit on the stone banister, my feet dangling over 15 metres above the street. Chiara joined me, but Martina refused, which by this point in the night, could have been predicted. Usually she's game for anything, but she was in one of her moods. After a while, we left the steps, continuing back to the boys in the piazza. I didn't really want to go back, because returning to the boys meant returning home. I saw my chance to delay us a little longer at the next church we passed; it had Pantheon-like pillars,which remained level with each other as the street dipped downhill. I wanted to sit between two pillars on the far end, at least 20 metres above the street level. I started weaving my way to the spot, hugging myself around the other pillars to get there, the street dropping lower and lower. As I inched my feet along the marble wall, I prayed I would not fall to my death (or paralysis). The boys had come over now to watch, and were shouting "Che cazzo stai facendo?" ["What the fuck are you doing?"] and "Sei pazza!" ["You're crazy!"]. Eventually I got to the spot, sat down triumphantly, and after some prodding (involving calling everyone else pussies, which is somewhat less vulgar in Italian), Chiara, Martina, and Caiulo were sitting with me. Paolo refused to come up because he's afraid of heights, and the others were too busy smoking cigarettes. After a bit more sitting (how exciting and eventful, yeah?) we came down, and shortly after drove home.
The second trip to Salerno was on a Saturday. The class had done a mass ditching, and had neglected to tell Martina about it (she gave them hell on Monday), so we went to school anyway. Once il professore realized we were the only two attending classes, we (and by "we" I mean Martina) convinced him to let us leave. We were already up, so instead of going home and back to bed, we called up Caiulo and took the bus to Salerno. We had some trouble with our tickets (we purchased lesser-value tickets by mistake, and a bus official checked them along the way, making us get off at a stop and buy new ones, which was quite irritating). Anyway, once we arrived it was straight to the boardwalk. Salerno is lovely in the daylight; it lacks the mystery and the magic of the night, but it has a pure sort of happiness that comes out when the sun is shining.
We found a seaside cafe/bar and Caiulo bought us espresso. I actually enjoyed mine for the first time ever, which indicated that I have finally become accustomed to coffee. After the espresso, Martina and Caiulo had cigarettes. I decided I wanted one (another first), and requested a Winston (crap brand, but still better than Merits). I feigned smoking for a bit until Martina talked me through how to properly inhale. I ended up taking three "real" drags on the cig, coughing my lungs out each and every time. I hated it, although my companions found my reaction to the smoke to be hilarious. To wash out the taste of death from my mouth, we bought gelato [My flavors: Hazelnut and Black Chocolate. The latter tasted like brownies-- delicious!).
coffee + cigarette + gelato = happiness and sin
Seriously, none of those things are good habits to start, although I would not exactly call a single cigarette a habit. It was most definitely a one time (impulsive) thing. Coffee and gelato... Not one time things. Anyway.
We took our gelato out past the boardwalk, onto the dock/pier. We climbed down onto the massive, jagged rocks that jut out from the sea. Some girls our age were stripping off their clothes and jumping into the water for a swim, but we hadn't the courage to go nearly naked in such a public place. Plus, it was still a bit chilly. We vowed that next time we would bring towels and swimsuits, but this never ended up happening, either.
They smoked more cigarettes (I popped a piece of gum invece), and then we began to explore, climbing about on the rocks. I had to remove my shoes (lovely, floral patterned flats with nothing to grip to the slippery rocks), so I was going barefoot, stepping on bits of glass and sharp little rocks. Still, I was the fastest, followed by Martina. Caiulo was comically slow, going about on all fours, getting stuck and having miniature panic attacks at frequent intervals. I rolled up my jeans, dipped my legs into the sea; Martina called me crazy (this happens often), and then we proceeded to abandon the rocks for the boardwalk. We eventually began to wander into the city and onto the corso, entering a mega bookstore (a little smaller than the average Barnes and Noble). I purchased Ninna Nanna, or Lullaby, by Chuck Palahniuk, and Stardust, both ita. I still haven't gotten around to reading them, and it's April. But whatevs. I SHALL.
The third and final time (that month, anyway), we took the cars again. It was night, same group as the first, but senza Chiaretta, much to my unhappiness. I wanted to go somewhere new, so we walked away from the sea (which irritated Martina), and away from the historical and shopping centres. The only way to do this is to walk uphill, which everyone hated me for. I'm asthmatic, but I have better lungs than the lot of them, which is pretty sad. Anyway, the further up we went, the more we saw of the real Salerno, where people live and work, not just where tourists play and families sunbathe. In fact, we didn't see a single tourist the entire time we were in that area of the city, which I found to be lovely (in contrast, the others thought it was rather boring). We came across a little piazza in which we sat for nearly an hour. It was closed in by four buildings, and in the center was a fountain for drinking (it looked like a water spout). There were aged trees that sprawled out toward the sky, black lamposts giving off warm light, and red and nero mopeds parked together, packed and gleaming in the warm light of the night. I can't really capture its perfect beauty in words. There was this one building I felt a sort of connection to. It was yellow with white trimmings, quite old, with classic windows. I kept staring at it through the branches of the trees, which were still empty, as spring had yet to make her appearance.
Sometimes people walked pass, and they were fun to watch, as they were all natives to the area, coming home from work or going out to a disco. It was a nice change, seeing a Salerno that's normally hidden from view.
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