See Naples and Live... More – 10: Life and Death – On Stage and Off

 

   Photo©Nigel Summerley

A major claim to fame of Naples' splendid opera house, the Teatro San Carlo, is that it burnt down in 1816 and was rebuilt even more splendidly within ten months. It is also reckoned to be the finest opera house in Italy... so let's say the world.

Initially I'd thought of just visiting the building to see its marvellous interior – which one can do. But when I found that Madama Butterfly was being staged, I booked tickets and had the view from a box seen here.

Like Puccini's opera, it was a bitter-sweet experience. Just as the lights were going down and the curtain was about to go up, I saw, as I was silencing my phone, a text from a musician friend telling me that my musical mentor and drumming legend, John Marshall, had just died.

Although the news was not totally unexpected, it was a tearful moment and I felt a kind of guilt for being here in this dream setting. But in an instant I could hear John's voice telling me: "Just enjoy the music – it's the best thing there is."

And it was. 

An incredibly moving night that brought the curtain down on yet another life-packed visit to Napoli...

   Photo©Nigel Summerley

See Naples and Live... More – 9: The Vast Picture Show

Now you see it...   Photo©Nigel Summerley

The church of San Giorgio Maggiore in the heart of old Naples has a bizarre two-for-one offer. If you venture into the area behind the altar, there is, not surprisingly, a huge but fairly gloomy painting depicting St George.

However, if you wait until a small crowd gathers, one of the church's staff will appear and perform a minor miracle, pulling back this picture by means of a giant handle to reveal... another depiction of St George. But this one is a bright and vibrant fresco by the 17th-century Neapolitan master Aniello Falcone.

As with many things in Naples, there is a strange and almost impenetrable explanation for this curiosity. Falcone is said to have executed the fresco in the 1640s when the church was being rebuilt after a fire. The building work didn't actually get finished until the 18th century (a long delay even by builders' standards), by which time the fresco seems to have been covered over and the enormous painting of St George by Alessio D'Elia was put in place. It wasn't until the 1990s that the Falcone was discovered – during yet more building work.

Why the Falcone was forgotten about for 300 years remains a mystery – as does who came up with the idea of having two paintings occupying the same wall space, thus requiring someone to operate a very long pole to make them both visible.

The one certainty is that this oddity brings a constant flow of visitors to the church of San Giorgio Maggiore.

Photo©Nigel Summerley

See Naples and Live... More – 8: Dark Castle

Grim is probably the best word to describe La Vicaria. It certainly has a grim past... and, as I found, a grim present too.

Just a few minutes's walk from my apartment in Forcella, the Vicaria – officially known as the Castel Capuano – has played a major role in the history of Naples.

Originally a Norman castle, it was used as the Court of Justice from the 16th century until the end of the 20th. Long after medieval times, "justice" at the Vicaria included the accused being locked up and tortured prior to their trial... and then afterwards imprisoned in the basement cells there (if they were allowed to live),

Its more than solid walls reinforce the feeling that this is still not a place one would want to be inside.

After pausing to puzzle over its ornamented facade (where the arms of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V are still visible), I turned a corner to walk along the building's perimeter and saw in the distance at the next corner a furtive-looking man talking to a woman sitting by a line of rubbish bins.

As I continued, the man melted into the shadows of the Vicaria and disappeared.

I suppose that I shouldn't have been shocked when I drew level with the woman, but I was... She was slumped by the bins, emptying a needle into one of her slender, bare arms. She was young, still beautiful, well-dressed... but also looked ravaged and unaware of her surroundings.

The scene had a midnight feel to it... but this was midday. And this was a tableau of the darker side of Naples...

See Naples and Live... More – 7: The Great Lake

Lakeside walk at Avernus   Photo©Nigel Summerley

I am drawn to revisiting Lake Avernus almost as much as I am to returning to Naples.

I'm already beginning to lose count of the number of times I've done the great circular lakeside walk – around this body of water to the west of the city calmly filling an ancient volcanic caldera.

When I was here three years ago I wrote about meeting my mother's ghost as I sat down on a bench overlooking the water (see this blog 28 November 2020, An Odyssey in the Year of the Plague – 10: 8-14 September 2020). On reflection, it seemed a quite normal encounter, bearing in mind that this was the place where Odysseus entered the Underworld and did the same thing.

Whether my experience was real or imagined, it had lasting impact on me. So when I walked by that same bench in 2023, I was saddened to see that it had literally fallen to pieces. No one – human or ghostly – would be sitting on it for a while.

The broken bench   Photo©Nigel Summerley

But even this sorry sight brought to mind my late mother once more. For I remembered a while after my walk that when a bench near her home had fallen into disrepair and been removed, she campaigned to have a new one put in its place.

Some of her neighbours were not in favour of the replacement – one didn't know who might come along and sit on it, they argued.  My mum, though, had seen elderly people using the old bench as a place to stop and rest when they were halfway home from the local shops. She saw it as a social necessity – and she succeeded in getting the council to install a new one.

I wonder if her spirit will somehow bring about the appearance of a new bench by the side of Lake Avernus, entrance to the Underworld.

From this distance I can only hope so... but I am looking forward to my next visit to find out.

The water is wide   Photo©Nigel Summerley

See Naples and Live... More – 6: The Antro, The Intro And The Outro

Acropolis at Cumae        Photo©Nigel Summerley

Cumae (formerly known as Kimi) is reckoned to be the first Greek settlement on the west coast of what was later to become Italy.

Today it's a short suburban train ride west from Naples just a few minutes beyond Pozzuoli (see previous blog).

The ruins at Cumae are more extensive than at Pozzuoli, with the star attractions including its acropolis, a temple of Apollo and the Antro della Sibilla.

As with so many stories of ancient Greece/Rome/Naples, nothing is known for certain about the Cumaean Sybil, apart from the fact that she was a legendary prophesying priestess of Apollo, similar to the one at Delphi but said to be more powerful.

She presided over the the gateway between life and death, which has long been associated with the area to the west of Naples – the volcanic lands of the Phlegrean Fields and Lake Avernus (see this blog 5 December 2020, An Odyssey in the Year of the Plague – 11: 15-21 September 2020) were closely connected with the Underworld and entrances to Hell.

The Antro, although referred to as the Sybil's Cave, is a bit grander than that suggests. In fact, to quite a degree, it fits the description given by Virgil of the place where Aeneas visited the Sybil before going down into the kingdom of the dead.

Entrance to the Antro della Sibilla        Photo©Nigel Summerley

The entrance to the Antro is decidedly – and most likely deliberately – vaginal. It seems mysterious yet inviting, but as I stepped over the threshold, I heard a woman's voice in the gloomy distance asking me to go back out.

"I'm filming," she shouted.

I thought she was being a bit unreasonable but did as she asked. It was only after she finally emerged and I then walked down into the long and vacant gallery that I appreciated what she had been trying to do.

The Antro is pretty impressive on the way in, but even more so when one reaches the far end, turns and then begins to return towards the light. That is what this latterday Sybil had been proclaiming she had to capture on video.

Into the Antro       Photo©Nigel Summerley

The Antro is more than 130 metres long with countless side galleries and "windows" to the outside. 

And it's certainly a lot grander than the alternative location – the Sybil's Cave (see this blog 28 November 2020, An Odyssey in the Year of the Plague – 10: 8-14 September 2020) by the shores of Lake Avernus.

View from the interior of the Antro       Photo©Nigel Summerley

See Naples and Live... More – 5: Theatre of Blood

Beneath the amphitheatre at Pozzuoli   Photo©Nigel Summerley

The area around Naples was Greek long before it was Italian. It was only later that the Romans arrived on the scene and carried out a hostile takeover.

And whatever the Romans did, they tended to do it in a big way. Pozzuoli, out along the coast to the west of Naples, was a major centre for them.

Pulling in on the train from Montesanto station, you might be forgiven for thinking there's not that much to Pozzuoli. But when you get off and take a look towards the sea, your eye will be caught by the impressive remains below you of what is reckoned to be a Roman market hall from the first century BC.

Market hall ruins at Pozzuoli   Photo©Nigel Summerley

And this is just for starters. Head northwards and upwards and you will find the entrance to the site of the Roman amphitheatre, which is only a tad smaller than the rather better known Colosseum in Rome.

There are a few differences between this and the Colosseum. There is not so much left of the heights of the outer wall at Pozzuoli. But the vast ranks of seating here are well-preserved. And the below ground area, where animals, gladiators and scenery waited to be uploaded via numerous trap doors is in such good shape that it looks like it could be brought back into use at a moment's notice. And the very biggest difference for me was that I was the only visitor.

Entering the amphitheatre at Pozzuoli   Photo©Nigel Summerley

Entering the site from the eastern end, I was able to walk into the arena that had been the scene of unimaginable violence and cruelty dressed up as entertainment. It's a strange combination of emotions to be marvelling at the scale of the place and to be sickened by all the bloody deaths that happened here.

San Gennaro himself (see previous blogs), patron saint of Naples, was, according to legend, due to be fed to wild animals here as part of the Romans' Christian cleansing operations. But, for some reason, the hungry beasts weren't interested and Gennaro was let off with a beheading the following day.

After taking in the beauty and horror of the vast theatre, I walked out and then round to the western entrance and down the long slope to the subterranean complex of storage areas and cages, in the wake of countless people and animals, many of whom must never have come back out again.

Pozzuoli is no household name... hence the fact that one can have its amphitheatre to oneself – and as a result of that to be able to meditate on a past that is still tangibly present.

Excavating the amphitheatre    

Reconstruction model of the amphitheatre 

See Naples and Live... More – 4: Raiders of the Lost Sleep

Image by djedj@Pixabay

The feast of San Gennaro (see previous blog) is a huge religious festival in Naples and, as with many similar events, it's an excuse for forgetting about work and everyday cares and concentrating on making merry.

On such a major public holiday people relax and let down their guard... hence the reason, it turned out, that those of us bedding down in the central Forcella district after the festivities were woken around 3am by what sounded like an invading army and airforce.

And that's pretty much what it was. A combined troupe of 300 or so carabinieri and police had chosen the early hours of the morning after the celebratory night before to carry out a raid on organised crime targets.

The helicopter that woke me sounded as if it were outside the front windows of my apartment. In reality, it was hovering somewhere just above the building and occasionally doing circuits of the area – for a long time. The ongoing racket was punctuated by shouting and loud bangs that sounded like doors being smashed in.

Next morning's news confirmed that that was exactly what was happening, and the cops had amassed quite a haul of guns and drugs and suspect individuals.

All next day there was a heavy (and preening) police presence on street corners around the centre. They were obviously very pleased with themselves and what had been a good night's work for them – even if it had been a terrible night's sleep for the rest of us.