Il Cimitero delle Fontanelle

May is the "Month of Monuments" in Naples, a month where exhibits that are normally closed are briefly opened to the public (usually for free). Anything cultural is highlighted: painting and sculpture, theater and dance, architecture and the vast underground of the city.

Last Saturday, my neighbor and his Italian girlfriend invited me on a trip to one of the area's most prized catacombs. I hated to leave Alan's baseball team with one less fan, but I had two reasons to check out the cimitero: (a) I was always intrigued by the Parisian catacombs--they provide an eerie reminder of just how fleeting our lives are--and (b) this particular network of catacombs is open just two days this year.

What a treat! It was just as fascinating as I thought it would be, especially given the free tour we were offered. Everything was in Italian, so I tried my hardest to follow along. When I didn't get something, my Italian friend would help me out with the translation. One thing's for sure: I will never forget the word for skull!



Many of the skulls are housed in little boxes, or whatever their caretakers could afford. (In one case, a box of biscuits). Usually the inscription reads ex voto or per grazia ricevuta: that is, in return for watching over the remains, the caretakers expected to receive some sort of grace or luck from God. It goes without saying that Neapolitans are very superstitious.

One of my favorite parts of the visit was hearing a few local legends. One skeleton in particular had been preserved in its entirety. Because of the position of the body and its gaping mouth, legend holds that the poor woman died by choking on a nut. (The real cause of death was probably a stroke). Elsewhere, there is one special skull that, despite going months or years without cleaning, never seems to build up any dust. Its owner was apparently a patron saint of pregnancy and childbirth, and women from all over would come to touch the skull for its positive effects on their fertility.



At the end of one hallway there is a little mound of skulls in front of three large crosses. Behind this, a window allows the sun to peek through and play with the effects of light and dark. Here we were told perhaps the most frightening legend of all: the skull inside the box on top of the mound belonged to an important military captain. One day, a young couple decided to, ah, express their love for the first time in these catacombs. (Apparently that was the romantic thing to do back then...) The captain appeared to them and started talking; the young fidanzati replied with the only logical answer: they invited him to their upcoming wedding (?!). Lo and behold, the wedding day arrived and with it came one guest unknown to all--a black-cloaked figure. When the newlyweds inquired as to his identity, he opened his cloak to reveal the skull from the catacombs. Unfortunately, everyone present was struck with such fear that they all perished immediately...

All in all, it was a gripping visit. Though haunting, there is something very sacred about seeing piles and piles of human bones and skulls. The Neapolitan lore, along with the artful arrangement of reliquaries and the intriguing play of light and dark, were a special added bonus. I will definitely be checking out more Neapolitan catacombs--there are a bunch to choose from.

Getting Involved

I wrote the following a week or so ago. It is still current, except for the fact that Alan's team is no longer undefeated :(, I went on a Ceramics tour and discovered my inner artist :), and we just had a wonderful visit from Faye, my best British bud. :) :) :) More on that last one once I get my hands on some of her pictures!

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If I have been a little slow to update lately, it is because we've been busier! Transitioning to life in a new country takes a few months (at least), and I am finally starting to get my bearings. I am incorporating a few activites into my weekly routine and developing a network of new friends. For a few weeks after Italian school ended I found myself alone at home with little courage to go out if I didn't have a specific errand to run. Fortunately for the more timid among us, the base provides a fabulous array of ways for us to get involved:

-Pump Class: I had never lifted weights before attending this class. It's one hour of intense pumping iron to loud "umph-umph-umph" music and the accented encouragement of our adorable Italian instructor. I could barely walk for 2 weeks after my first lesson, but I keep going back for more. The regulars are super sweet and the post-exercise feeling is great.

On the topic of exercise, I also managed to get down to the Mergellina waterfront for a morning jog. I've done it only once, but plan to go back for the great view of the Posillipo hill on the return leg.



-Dessert Club: I take half credit for this one. I got the idea from my Jacksonville friend Janie, who, also new to the area, decided to start a monthly club to enjoy a few hours of sweets with other ladies. I proposed starting a similar group here in Naples and the idea really took off.

-Book Club: I've never joined one of these before, but a neighbor was kind enough to invite me to her group. The first book we read was Reading Lolita in Tehran: it's the bittersweet memoir of an Iranian professor of English literature who formed a clandestine book club for former students. Especially interesting was the juxtaposition of "risqué" stories in the banned books and tragic tales of the oppression suffered by members of the club.

-Voluteering at the Thrift Store: The thrift store on base is very popular with overseas spouses and local nationals alike. It brings in surprising amounts of money and donates a lot of it to the community it serves. With the high turnover of families on base, there is lots to sift through and price every day. I've met lots of nice volunteers at the store, but best of all I get to practice my Italian with the regular customers.

-Guided Day Trips into Town: I can't believe I haven't taken advantage of this until now. (No looking back: I'm going to make the most of it from now on!) All it takes is for me to get up really early with Alan so I can have la macchina for the day. Then I cart myself over to base and join an Italian-led tour group into town for some local culture. Today it was more like local flavor as the theme was Fresh Pasta. We watched a local Pastificio (pasta maker) make a ton of gnocchi (potato-based balls of deliciousness). The trip may have been with fellow Americans, but I still managed a lot of Italian with our pasta-making hosts. I joked with the main chef as he hoisted a huge pot of boiling water by saying this was his palestra (gym). He joked back and said since he took the job he had put on 20 kilos (more than 40 pounds...I think he was exaggerating). At the end we got to try the fresh pasta two ways (one with pesto and the other with a fresh tomato-basil sauce). The only thing I regretted was eating a cornetto con crema (cream croissant) an hour earlier at the bar (here, it's more of a cafe with a full-stock bar...most people go for the cappuccinos and lattes).







-Little League: Every weekend we head over to Carney Park to watch the "Mets" (the team Alan coaches). So far they have a 3-0 record...I attribute it to Alan's ingenious at-bat lineup strategy. :) The kids are cuties and it makes for a relaxing morning of taking in the sun and chatting with other wives.

In the midst of all this, little time remains for my current job! (read: laundry, cooking, cleaning, watering the plant and herbs...) It is really refreshing to get out and take so much in without even going too far. I don't want to sugarcoat it; there are definitely difficult situations. Yesterday on the bus I saw not one but two people blatantly throw their trash out the window. To the second offender I turned around and said: "Perchè?!" (Why) His unfortunately answer: "Perche non mi serve" (It's not useful to me anymore). That kind of attitude, compounded with the lawless--frankly, egotistical--driving, can really weigh on you. But every place has its good and its bad, and for the most part we try to focus on bella Napoli. So far it has treated us quite well!

Buona Festa della Mamma!

picture courtesy of Vesic Photography

I owe so much to my Mom. She’s the one who got up at 5 am to teach me French. She’s the one who raised me on wholesome foods. She’s the one who did countless loads of our laundry—and managed to hang it all up outside to boot.

Mom walked me to school when we lived 5 minutes away. When it was time for high school, she often drove me the 50 minutes there and back (not counting her own return trips). And when it was time for college, she filled the void with lots of phone calls, letters, and care packages.

Mom always has time for me. She always has something positive and encouraging to say. She always manages to put her needs second to everyone else’s—whether it be giving up the last slice of pie or staying up late to help me finish the project I put off.

For all of this, "thank you" falls a bit short. Happy Mothers' Day, Mom! I love you and miss you.

And to my new moms and grandmom, thank you for welcoming me so warmly into the family! We may live far away, but you are always near in our thoughts.

Buona Festa a tutte le mamme!