I continue to chip away at my trip blog a week after our return to
Canada. We were doing so much sightseeing the last three weeks over there, I didn’t
have time or energy for picture processing and writing.
After Shelley left, we could really start to have some
fun in Naples! Woohoo! Well, not really.
But the weather continued fine. The next day was mild – high teens – with some sun. Our plan was to visit the Certosa e Museo di San Martino
(Charterhouse and museum of St. Martin), an 18th century Carthusian monastery
up in Vomero. It’s a place known for its rich baroque decorations, and usually
included in lists of Naples’ top sights.
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| Trudging up Salita Petraio |
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| View of Gulf of Naples from Salita Petraio |
I persuaded Karen it was a good idea to walk up there
– up Salita Petraio, then on up Via Gradini del Petraio (also mostly steps) and
along small streets to near where we’d had a drink with Shelley the night
before. We hadn’t realized at the time, but that’s where St. Martin is, just
down the street from Castel sant’Elmo. The walk up was a slog, but it was worth
it for the views, out over rooftops to the bay and mountains beyond. It was
also interesting being able to observe life in a Naples suburb close up without
the distractions of traffic and crowds.
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| View over Gulf of Naples from Salita Petraio |
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| The way up Salita Petraio: good for heart and lungs |
We still had time left on our Artecards, we thought.
St. Martin and the castle together counted as one entry, according to the
brochure that came with the cards. When we went into St. Martin and showed them,
though, the ticket takers just waved us through, didn’t even look at the cards. We
wondered later if everyone was getting in free that day. We think parts of the
complex may have been closed to visitors. We’ve heard this is common in Italy
because they can’t afford the staff in many big museums.
They didn’t have any English guides left – a problem
we would find at other sights on this trip. The woman behind the counter said,
“How’s your Spanish?” She handed us a Spanish-language guide, which gave us
very little more than we could get from trying to read the Italian labeling. We
did have both our Naples guidebooks with us, though.
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| San Martino cloister: these earrings are killing me! |
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| San Martino cloister |
It’s a sprawling, maze-like place built on the side of
a hill overlooking the city. There was no obvious route to take, so we wandered.
We started by going down a long corridor to the cloister. It’s a pretty place,
with camelia trees in bloom, a stone fountain with some odd carved grotesques
on the side and a little graveyard with skulls carved in stone along the top of
the low wall. After the majolica and fresco splendours of Santa Chiara, the
arcades here seemed fairly plain. There were some impressive relief carvings of
church luminaries in the door lintels, though.
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| San Martino cloister: arcade |
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| San Martino cloister, former graveyard |
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| San Martino cloister |
After the cloister, we wandered into a part of the museum
where they house figures from 17th and 18th century ‘cribs.’ Cribs – we would
call them crêches, or nativity scenes – were and still are a big thing in
southern Italian culture apparently. They’re much more elaborate than the
nativity scenes we know, often with many figures, sometimes so many the
holy family is lost.
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| San Martino museum: 18th century crib figure |
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| San Martino museum: 18th century crib figures |
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| San Martino museum: 18th century crib figures |
Most of the museum cases show figures from cribs, not cribs as they would originally have been arranged and
displayed. It's clear the figures were carved or molded, painted and
dressed by expert craftsman. Each face is individualized, the costumes often ornate
and exotic. There are a couple of
reconstituted cribs, including one with a huge – suspiciously non-biblical – throng
of admirers come to see the baby, and angels spiraling up from the stable.
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| San Martino museum: 18th century crib |
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| San Martino museum: crib detail |
We passed from the museum – or from this section of it
– into parts of the monastery where the inmates once gathered and lived. The
decorations are astonishing. Everywhere you look, frescoes, coffered ceilings,
gilt, rich wood panelling. I thought monks were supposed to lead ascetic lives.
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin |
The small church is particularly impressive. We came
into it first from behind the altar. You can’t enter the nave because they’re
afraid the mosaic flooring can no longer bear the traffic. Even from here,
though, you can see how beautiful it is.
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, church |
Eventually, still just following our noses, we came
out to terraced gardens on the side of the hill. Great views over the city to
the bay. But great views are in ample supply in this city; it’s what comes of
building on three hills.
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, view from gardens |
The prior’s quarters, fairly recently restored as
museum space, is supposed to house the richest of the monastery’s holdings.
Other than a Bernini sculpture and paintings mostly by Neapolitan masters, we
didn’t see much that impressed. We wondered afterwards if part of it had been
closed off. At the end of the one range of rooms that was open, we came to a small terrace with more glorious views of
the city and bay.
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| Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Mother and child with John the Baptist |
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| Giovanni Battista Caracciolo (1578–1635): Assumption of Mary |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, view from terrace |
We wandered randomly along other corridors into other
parts of the museum. One had a fairly recently and very well mounted exhibition
on the history of seafaring in the Naples area. It even included labelling in
English, absent in most areas of the museum. It was far too much information, though,
and not that interesting. The boat models and a couple of restored royal barges
were impressive.
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| San Martino museum: royal barge |
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| San Martino museum: royal barge |
In the end, we came back out to the entrance
courtyard, and found the front door of the church, where you can stand and look
in at the glorious floor and frescoed ceiling.
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, courtyard |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, church |
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| Charterhouse of St. Martin, church |
The Certosa di San Martino was definitely a highlight
for me. It wasn’t very crowded either, despite its reputation. In fact, the
only place we ever felt crowded in Naples was on Spacconapoli and Tribunali and
at the Capella San Severo, which is a tiny place so probably feels crowded all
the time.
We walked the block down to Castel sant’Elmo and tried
to go in there with our Artecards. The ticket taker passed them through a
barcode reader and said apologetically that they were expired. It was now past
the time of day we’d bought them three days before. Fair enough, but I
understood the castle was included with the Certosa and since we’d already
entered it, shouldn’t we get in here on the same ticket? No, he said, it was a completely separate entrance. This wasn’t the only information published about
the Artecards that turned out to be wrong. We were supposed to get free
admission to the first three of the participating attractions we visited. But
at least one – I think it was the Capodimonte museum – only offered a reduced rate, even though we
still supposedly had free admissions left on the card. No matter, the castle
wasn’t a high priority anyway. Besides it was lunch time.
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| Castel san'Elmo |
We went home on the funicular. After lunch, we walked
down through the Spanish quarter to the big government and royal buildings near
the waterfront. I was underwhelmed by the royal palace, an 18th century pile
with little distinctive about its architecture. But the Piazza del Plebiscito on
which it stands, named for the 1860 plebiscite that brought Naples into the unified
Kingdom of Italy, and the domed and porticoed Basilica that faces the palace,
are impressive.
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| Piazza del Plebiscito |
We walked right down to the waterfront where there
were lots of people out strolling, a fair number of them locals, it seemed. You
can look across the bay to Vesuvius and northeast along the shore to the container
port.
We walked in the direction of the port and passed the
docks from which the ferries leave for Ischia and Capri. I’m sure they’ve
changed in 34 years, but they did seem vaguely familiar. Karen and I will always
remember the rough crossing we had back to Naples after a week on Ischia in 1984. It
was the first and – we hope – last time we witnessed projectile vomiting. We
both managed to keep our own breakfasts down, but were shaking, white and
rubber-legged when we got to the docks. They’re right under the lowering
Castel Nuovo, the New Castle, first built in 1279. It looms over the waterfront.
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| Castel Nuovo |
We walked along the other side of the castle and up to
Piazza Municipio with its lovely Neptune fountain. And then worked our way back,
along Via Toledo, to the Galleria, and the Augusteo funicular stop where we
caught the train back up the hill.
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| Galleria |
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| Galleria |
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| Piazza Municipio |
The next day, Sunday, we walked down to the Palazzo di
Arti Napoli, aka PAN, to see a
Salvadore Dali exhibit. It was an expensive museum, €10 each, and
disappointing. The Dali exhibit wasn’t so much about his art as about how he
developed his image, his brand. There were lots of videos about him – including
one of his appearance on The Price Is
Right – and memorabilia including magazine covers. But not a lot of art.
There were a few drawings and small, not very exciting paintings, plus some
examples of his stereoscope paintings – designed to go in old-fashioned
stereoscopes to produce a primitive 3D effect. The rooms were cramped and
crowded.
There were a couple of smaller exhibits on the ground
floor, apparently free since open to the street. One I liked was of work by Adele Ceraudo an
artist born in the Salerno area who now lives in Rome. She does very fine, sometimes
vaguely surrealist drawings using Bic pens. Upstairs, on the floor above the
Dali show, was a brand-new exhibit of paintings by a late-20th century Neapolitan
abstractionist, Carmine di Ruggiero.
The labels weren’t even up yet. I liked both; Karen, not so much. Oh well.
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| Carmine di Ruggiero |
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| Carmine di Ruggiero |
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| Adele Ceraudo, Birth of Adam |
From PAN we walked about 20 minutes to Chiaia, an
upscale quarter along the waterfront west of the port. This is the
neighbourhood that Elena Ferrante describes in one scene in My Brilliant Friend as seeming like
another world to her poor working-class characters who go there for a Sunday
walk. It might have slightly degentrified
since the early 1960s when that book is set, but we did see some very posh
fashion boutiques along the streets just up from the water.
We walked down to the bay. The street nearest the
shore is pedestrian only, there’s a park, a little kiddy fun fair and an outdoor
roller skating arena. As it was Sunday, the locals were out in force, enjoying
the lovely weather. It had been mostly sunny all day and warm.
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| Castel del’Ovo from Chiaia |
The waterfront promenade offers nice views to the west
of pastel-coloured apartment buildings overlooking the water. To the east, you
can see Castel del’Ovo, which sits on a peninsula jutting into the bay. Its
name, Egg Castle, comes from a legend about the Roman poet Virgil, known in the
Middle Ages as a great sorcerer. He supposedly put a magical egg in the castle’s
foundations to support its fortifications. Had it been broken, the castle would
fall and a series of disastrous events for Naples follow. The castle still
stands, but I’m thinking the Camorra, the local Mafia affiliate, probably
qualifies as a disaster.
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| Chiaia |
Fishing boats had come into a little inlet by the park
and were selling fresh-caught sardines. Seagulls wheeled overhead. It was a bit
like being in an Italian movie.
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| Chiaia |
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| Chiaia |
We’d mostly come for the walk and scenery, but there
is a 19th century mansion here, open as a museum, that sounded interesting. The
Museo Pignatelli is named for the rich family who once lived in it. When we
finally got around to walking up to it, we discovered there had been a jazz
concert, free with entry, that started at 11:30. It was now 12:30 and the
concert was just ending. If we’d known, we could have come earlier.
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| Museo Pignatelli |
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| Museo Pignatelli |
The museum includes some elegantly furnished rooms,
but we’ve certainly seen more impressive. The grounds are small, partly taken
up with converted stables that house a museum about 19th century carriages. The
exhibits were mildly interesting, but compared to the fabulous carriage museum we
saw in Lisbon two years ago, a little drab.
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| Museo Pignatelli |
Not a great day of sightseeing, but the walking and
the weather made up for it. We headed back to Augusteo via a jam-packed Via
Toledo, the big shopping street, and took the funicular up the hill. We got back
in time for a late lunch. It was very briefly still warm enough to sit on our
little balcony. But then a breeze came up, it chilled down and we regretfully
went inside.
The next day, we’d picked a couple of sights back down
in the centro storico, off
Spacconapoli, to which we walked. The weather was supposed to be nice in the
morning, but turning to rain in the afternoon.
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| Walking down Salita Petraio |
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| Spanish Quarter |
The Pio Monte della Misericordia is a small oddly octagonal-shaped
church mainly notable for its altarpiece, a fabulous painting by Caravaggio. He
completed The Seven Works of Mercy on
commision in about 1607. There is also a museum in an attached building with
renaissance and baroque paintings, mainly by Neapolitan artists, including
quite a few by Francesco de Mura. But the Caravaggio is the main draw.
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| Pio Monte della Misericordia, Caravaggio, The Seven Works of Mercy |
It depicts the seven essential works of mercy in
Catholic doctrine – feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the
naked, bury the dead, shelter the traveler, comfort the sick, and ransom the
captive. It’s appropriate subject matter given the church was established by a group
of seven idealistic young noblemen who met at the church offices weekly to
minister to the needy. The painting has all the hallmarks of Caravaggio’s
mature style: the dramatic play of contrasting light and dark, expressive,
highly realistic faces and melodramatic poses.
The paintings in the museum were worth a look, but the
collection is thin on masterworks. Everything paled in comparison to the
Caravaggio. There is a little balcony off one of the museum rooms where you can
look down through an opening at the dramatically-lit altarpiece in the church
below.
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| Pio Monte della Misericordia |
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| Pio Monte della Misericordia, view of Carvaggio's The Seven Works of Mercy |
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| Pio Monte della Misericordia, view of cathedral next door |
The Misericordia is spitting distance from the
cathedral, the Cattedrale di San Gennaro or duomo,
our next stop. It was built in the late 13th and early 14th century, then
repaired, restored and built over a few times afterwards – in particular following
a devastating 15th century earthquake. Shelley didn’t think much of it, part of
the reason we’d left it so long to visit, I think, but we liked it. There are
lovely gilt coffered and frescoed ceilings in the nave and frescoed domes. One
side chapel has beautiful Gothic decorations: an elaborately carved marble
sarcophagus and the remains of medieval frescoes.
The 4th-century Basilica di Santa Restituta, completely
rebuilt after an earthquake in 1688, includes more gorgeous baroque and gothic
decorations, including a gilt mosaic mural, more frescoes and carved marble. We
didn’t pay to go into the baptistry, apparently Europe’s oldest, where there
are supposedly more, richer and older treasures.
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| Basilica di Santa Restituta |
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| Basilica di Santa Restituta |
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| Basilica di Santa Restituta |
By the time we came out of the cathedral, it was
threatening rain. We walked to Dante station and just made it as the rain
started. We took the Metro up to Vanvitelli in Vomero, where it wasn’t raining, and then the funicular
down. Skype with Caitlin in the late afternoon.
Wednesday, our last full day in Naples, we took it
fairly easy. We caught the funicular up to Vomero mid-morning and walked to the
grounds of the Villa Floridiana. The mansion was built on the hillside in 1816 by
Ferdinand I, the Bourbon ‘King of the Two Sicilies’. Today it houses the
national ceramics museum, which was closed this Wednesday. The park, however,
was open and free.
It wasn’t as big as I’d imagined, so didn’t offer
quite as much walking as we would have liked. We explored it as thoroughly as
we could. It’s heavily treed, networked with crushed tile pathways. We didn’t
see much in the way of gardens, but that may have had to do with the time of
year. The mansion sits above a small terrace from which there are more
wonderful vistas over the city. The park was suprisingly little used. We saw a
few people stretched out on the lawns, possibly taking a lunch or coffee break
from a nearby work place. And there were a couple of other tourists, but it was
a very quiet, leafy interlude for noisy, chaotic Naples.
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| Villa Floridiana, view from terrace below house |
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| Villa Floridiana, view from terrace below house |
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| Villa Floridiana |
After the park, we walked up to Vanvitelli to a
restaurant recommended in one of our books, the Osteria Donna Teresa. It was a
funny little place with about seven tables crammed in. Most were already full,
mainly, it seemed with regulars. Clearly it was family run: mama in the
kitchen, daughter in her late thirties waiting tables, papa back and forth,
supervising everything, smiling beatifically. There were paintings on the wall,
not very good, some depicting the owners.
The lunch was fixed price, with little or no choice. The
daughter, unasked, brought us hearty lentil soup and lovely crusty bread to
start. The soup was good, but not spectacular – just good home cooking. We
asked for wine and sparkling water. The wine was clearly made in house, an odd
yellow colour, but fine when spritzed.
She came back later and asked did we want meat or fish.
Meat, of course. No choice, though. She delivered one plate with a couple of
large meatballs in a tomato-based sauce and another with some tender roast
pork. Papa came by with a plate of assorted contorni,
accompanying vegetables. There was eggplant, peppers, zucchini and I forget. We
noticed that other diners were getting completely different dishes – fewer vegetables
in some cases, different non-fish dishes that we weren’t offered in others.
There was, suprisingly, no pasta. Dessert was a clementine orange,
unceremoniously plunked down on the table. We were out in a little over 30
minutes. The bill: €25. Unusual.
Karen
got a gelato from a little gelateria up the street, which she raved about, and
we walked home down Salita Petraio, admiring the views again. The rest of the
day was given over to packing and resting up for the next day, when we would hump
our bags up-and-down to Via Palizzi, get a cab to the airport, rent a car,
drive it to Pompeii for the day, then drive on to Sorrento. Whew!
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| Salita Petraio |
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| Salita Petraio |
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| Salita Petraio |
