In the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies 4 – Market Forces

©Nigel Summerley

Palermo's La Vucciria market has changed a lot since Renato Guttuso painted his genuinely iconic picture of it [see this blog – An Odyssey in the Second Year of the Plague – Midnight in Sicily, 7 March 2021].

That image – probably not Guttuso's best but certainly his best known – crops up all over Vucciria. 

Everywhere you go, you will get a different story about the painting and what it represents. According to some, the artist put himself in it – some say as a young man, some say as an old man. They also say he included images of his wife and his mistress. But no one seems to know for sure whom those enigmatic figures represent...

The original is there for you to contemplate and draw your own conclusions at the Palazzo Chiaramonte, aka the Steri.

What is not in doubt is that Guttuso depicted a stunning cornucopia of foodstuffs for sale. But today the market has become a tourist magnet, with T-shirts, souvenirs and handbags taking the place of fish, fruit and vegetables.

And if you walk through the area at night, you will find yet another Vucciria: a dark, pulsating party alive with dancing, music, drinking and human noise, as if the place has entered another, wilder universe.

If Guttuso were to paint this contemporary nocturnal Vucciria, it would be very, very different from his original – but definitely just as sensual.

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