Il giorno dopo

I cried my eyes out last night. It was all L's mamma, Melina's fault. We missed each other and she was telling me what a brava ragazza I was and that I'm welcome at Pozzuoli anytime. That opened the flood gates and I just couldn't stop once the tears flowed. Anyway it was about time; I had been keeping it in since 24 hours ago. It was a really good cry, the kind of sobbing that used up a pack of tissue.

I managed to sleep at 4am after putting on some aromatherapy and chatting with L who was surprisingly not painting the town red after my departure. We missed each other's company - after all we had spent the last 10 days together day in day out. Now it was back to MSN which was not the real thing. My eyes were puffy even this morning but I managed 7 hrs of sleep, getting up a few times to let the cats in and out. Che cazzo meows.

I drove my mom and cousin's boy Javier to have lunch with my dear nonna, aunt, uncle, sis and her fidanzato Alv, and stuffed my face with cinese food. My aunt asked if I wanted pasta and Nonna was so gleeful, asking me if I had 'fun' in italia. The men were jealous when I told them about the football game at Napoli and we were already planning to go to a match next year. We didn't have room for the dolci but I gave them some sfogliatelle and aragoste to try at home.

It was amazing how much a baby could grow in a month. Javier's brother Kieran - now 4 months - was a bundle of joy and giggling so much at the slightest stroke of his chin and ruddy cheeks. I could kiss him all day.

A casa finalmente

I survived the flight. After a grueeellllsome 14hrs of flying and waiting. Not fun lor. At the crowded Roma airport, I spent my last euros on a can of my fav San Benedetto the' pesca, an Irene Grandi Greatest Hits CD and a bottiglia of Lambrusco, dreading the flight to Bangkok. It was weird for me when they served dinner at 4pm (italian.time) and breakfast at 11pm (i.t).

Around me were italians (Luigi, I heard a guy using conguintivo! He said 'penso che fosse..') including Andrea and his girlfriend Vanessa who were impressed that I spoke their language and that I looked much younger than 32. He lives at Como and works at Meda and the smart alec in me said 'Ah, ci sono molte fabbriche di mobili' (thanks to Elena who told me that). He then asked me if I knew a Vietnamese lady there who was married to a local. I was thinking 'Che scemo! You think every asian knows one another meh?'

When we finally got to Bkk at 1am (thai 6am), the plane took off at 3am (thai 8am) and my eyelids couldn't open at all. The air stewardess poked me and asked in Thai if I wanted breakfast. Volevo dire 'Che cazzo vuoi? Non puoi vedere che sto dormendo?!' accompanied by a two-finger friendly sign but instead I just waved a finger to indicate no. At the airport, no one came to pick me up - niscuin m'addor - due to a miscommunication between my fratello and Fiona. And I wanted to kill the taxi driver who didn't help me with my bags.

I hate saying goodbye. And si, I cried on the train as it left Napoli after L bid me farewell at the platform. The sleepy black guy and fredda Italian donna opposite me pretended not to notice as I put on my shades and tears came down my cheeks. Pazza. I was already holding back my tears in the morning after hugging Teresa, Linda and Adele who said farewells are the hardest and taught me another modo di dire - 'partire e' un po morire' (To leave is to die a little). Indeed. I believe we live and die a little every moment. In this instance, leaving Pozzuoli was akin to dying a lot.

While I said arrivederci to Nonna and zia Silvana, Melina helped me to buy some last minute foodstuff like Nutella, Kimbo caffe, sfogliatelle from their local bakery and then gave me a big hearty motherly embrace at the stazione. I could still remember her smooth cool skin, clear blue eyes and kind smile. The night before, L's dad Rafaelle also hugged me goodbye cos he had to leave for the Berlin Marathon early in the morning. He asked me for my blog so he could see the photos (shit, I should erase all the parolaccia!).

Linda and Massimo had arranged a sort-of farewell dinner at their quaint casa that came with a vast terrace and stupenda vista. I joked that I'd like to stay alla sopra l'anno prossimo and they said I was more than welcome. We had so much food again - proscuitto, rucola, cheese and a spinach crusty loaf, washed down with his homemade vino bianco (un po fumato). By the time we had the rabbit stew of coniglio con piselli e patate, I counted almeno 4 bottiglie di vino. Massimo joked that if he and Linda were to split up, he'd have to pay 'un mille un mese' (1,000 /month) to feed his 2 golosi figli Felice and Valerio, both busy stuffing their faces.

Halfway through cena, it began to pour cats and dogs, and I said 'il cielo piange perche partiro domani' ( heaven is crying because I will leave tomorrow). Suzy called to say she couldn't make it and I told her I want to be at their wedding in 2 years to which Gino made a face. We brought out the tray of dolci that L had bought today from a sfogliatelle calde specialty shop at Piazza Garibaldi and everyone snatched their favourite piece. I had earlier wolfed down an aragoste alla nutella at the shop, much to L's amusement. It was so good, easily the best I had.

We had gone to the Museo Archeo Nazionale this morning too (9E) which had a good collection of statues, jewellery, household stuff and whole frescoes culled from buried Roman towns. In between sips of San Benedetto's the' pesca (the best!) and un ultima lezione cinese per lui (colori oggi), we reflected on the trip, his friends, aspirations and famiglia. He accused me of making them all upset now cos I'd be leaving (si, mia colpa). I had grown to love being part of his warm, generous nest who never for a single moment made me feel unwelcome. They were all loving, patient and full of humour. And he said 'Hai cambiato molte cose' and made his famiglia realised that we asians are not that different from them. We all want the same things in life.

It was still my night at 11.48pm when we dropped off Gino and I decided that we should drive around one last time in the comforting darkness, lost in our own thoughts. I hope he'd remember the colors that I've taught him.

La partita

Mercoledi was L's day (I take even days and we split Domenica) but we went along with my wishes to see the open-air Mercato del Pesce at Pozzuoli which supplies fishes to all of Napoli. I asked for permisson first before shooting all the gorgeous fresh catch for my dad who's a fervent fisherman. There were all types and sizes of fishes, including a big-arse swordfish on show to ice-cold buckets of tiny silver alici, ugly monkfish, pretty clams and shiny seppia. I especially liked the polpo (octopus), dead and alive with their tentacles, deliciously popolare here.

L told me the mercato used to be really filthy near the harbour and it was clammed down for a while. Incidentally his dad Rafaelle (aka 'a iat' the cat perche he's so fit) used to be a vigilia (inspector) and made some enemies in the days when he used to give out multe (fines). He eventually changed his job which was better for his safety but I could imagine no-nonsense Raffaele the cat rounding up the big fishes. While I was clicking away, the fishermen asked L if I was really una turistica o forse una vigilia. Funnily there was one time when a bunch of Chinese vigilie posing as tourists came and took some foto on an undercover job. We assured them that I was really an ignorante turistica.

We then finally found time to visit the Anfiteatro and found out that we were both wrong; its arena was the 3rd largest in Italy after the one in Roma and Capua. Inside it was more intact than I expected and L knew his way around it (this was his after school hangout), sneaking us into the cordoned-off upper deck which led to the open arena. These days they held concerts here to satisfy screaming fans, rather than feed slaves to hungry beasts.

Lunch was waiting for us by the time we got back at 3pm - Mel had a pleased smirk on her ruddy face because she has prepared something speciale: a heap of tortellini in a cream sauce followed by a platter of mozzarella, fiori di latte (cow's milk) and ricotta fresca served with a plate of sauteed melazane in pomodori, olives and basilico. It was all very good but I was going to explode like a ball of mozzarella thrown against the wall! She asked me if I'd like to call home again cos she gets such a kick from me speaking in cinese and hokkien.

Today was also the big game day where Napoli and Livorno would be fighting it out at the Stadio San Paolo (3rd largest in Italia). I said jokingly 'Spero che Livorno vince' (I hope that Livorno wins) and nobody laughed. Everyone took their football quite seriously here. In the evening, 6 of us (L, me, Linda, Valerio, Gino & Susy) went to meet their other friends Fabio, Luigi and Gennaro at 7pm to secure parking space and seats. Festivity was already brewing in the form of polizia, food vendors and game souvenir sellers (I bought a blue-red-white Napoli scarf for 7E). Gino was pissed at the parking touts because they were illegally demanding 3E from car owners but that's how it works here - and if you didn't pay, they could damage your car easily.

Melina had packed a simple but satisfying dinner of torta di pasta (spaghetti binded with egg to form a fritata) and we munched on our each fetta amidst the fast-growing crowd which swelled to around 45,000. On our wing alone, there were 15,000 bobbing heads. I looked left and right to a sea of mostly male fans, smoking and drinking, gearing up for a homeground win (Gino's betting on Napoli to win 1-0).

This was my first match in Italia so it was molto interessante, especially when L sipped on a tiny canister of Borghetti, a liquor-laced caffe pick-me-up which tasted like a strong cough syrup. I asked him where the toilet was in case I needed to go after my birra Moretti. He said I might get pinched or raped in the toilet cabin so I sipped the beer slowly and prayed that my bladder held up.

The buzz was electrifying and it got more intense as the players came out onto the field at 8.30pm. The crowds hissed and booed at the visiting team and cheered when their local heroes waved back. The hardcore fan clubs came prepared with balloons, sparklers, flags, banners and unison chants. L taught me how to sing 'Ti faccio un culo cosi' which was not sang but there were easily a lot more songs that the fans obviously knew by heart. Gino joked that I better held onto something later in case Napoli scores later and I might be flung down to the stands below. Ho molto paura.

Everytime a goal seemed eminent, L's arm would creep around my shoulder and squeeze my arms in excitement but nothing came close to a goal in the first half. The 15min pausa came and went and everyone was on their feet standing on the filthy seats again chanting their hearts out. When the attack came on, everyone had their arms straight up in the air, as if they were the goalkeeper blocking the ball! I could hear all the bruttissima parolaccia as well as the desperate 'la, laaa!!!' (over there, there!!) and 'forza ragazzi!' (forward guys!) getting louder as the 2nd half drew on.

We were all desperate for one goal, just one for me and the whole of Napoli. I saw a young boy about 10 or 11 who was sobbing openly out of frustration and to me, it was a moving gesture of his support and passione. I couldn't imagine that happening in Spore. Finalmente the ball somehow scrambled into the back of the net without much dramatics, scored by Sosa in the dying 10 minutes of the game. L grabbed me while Gino threw himself at me. Everything was a blur, everyone was jumping with ecstasy. The rain came down but couldn't dampen our spirits. It was una perfetta partita for this Cinese visitor and e' stata una bellissima pazzia.

Piove va via

The countdown had began. Three more days and Luigi would be free. Truly libero as he claimed. Boo. Sempre colpa sua. Last week I was looking forward to go home but now I was starting to feel depressed with every hour closer to my departure. I came, I saw again and I had mixed feelings about the country. Some more positive and others less. But I had developed a more sober affection for it, compared to my previous infatuation. Let's hope our love affair'd last.

The weather was turning cool - the day after the wedding it rained all day and the temperature dipped to 18 degrees. Everyday we'd ask each other 'Che facciamo oggi?' and one of us would say 'Come vuoi.' Anyway he was happy to go with my plans even if it was his day cos he couldn't be arsed to go out if I wasn't around. We did niente and drove around to the Phlegraean lakes (where Dante described the once suffocating Lake Averno as the gateway to hell) and toured the Vomero area to see the elegant shops. The vista of Napoli and Mt Vesuvius was amazing at the top; a soft blanket of mist hung above the citta and muffled the insistent sounds of cars horning.

Bravo L taught me more parolaccia as we drove around and around amidst the brutto traffico; 'Che cazzo bussi?! Ti faccio un culo cosi (grande)!' (What the f%ck you horning? I make your arse so big! - which must be accompanied by a hand gesture to indicate a big arse) Hahaha. I loved it and said it everytime a car behind us horned. He groaned 'Oh no, ho creato un mostro.' (I've created a monster). Alternatively you could say 'Ti faccio una faccia cosi grande!' (Again use two hands to indicate a big face). Don't forget that Italians speak as much with their hands.

On the other hand, L was also molto bravo at learning cinese and had memorised how to say 'Xie jie, ni hao? Wo de ming zi shi Luigi. Ni de ming zi shi se me? Ni taiiiii mei li! Wo yao chi ni!' (Miss, how are you? My name is L. Your name is? You're tooooo beautiful. I want to eat you!) Don't worry, I had also taught him useful info e.g numbers and colours in cinese which he has internalised. Funnily I think I'd miss our language exchange programmes and conversations in his car as we drove aimlessly around Pozzuoli with the views of the Napoli's bay all round.

That night we got back in time for dinner of gnocchi al pesto, with a side of big green olives (my fav), then proscuitto and insalata. Even though I thought I could eat no more after the wedding, I wiped out a whole plate of lasagne e insalata for lunch earlier while everyone else surrendered. I never really saw Melina or Linda eat. M said she had inhaled everything already by the time she had finished cooking while Linda was probably conscious about her svelte figure, having lost some weight during the past few months. E' meglio cosi, so I could eat more hahaha. I think I'm the smallest person with the biggest appetito there and would eat the house dry if I had stayed longer. The aunts promptly named me 'la buona forchetta' - literally a good fork, which probably does its job well!

Mangia! Parte 2 - Il Matrimonio

Finalmente lunedi è arrivato e tutti sono stati eccitati! I got a wake-up call from the aunts at 7.30am, penso che siano svegliate dalle 6, pruning for the wedding. The chubby gayish but married-with-kids hairdresser Francesco in an undersized shirt was there already coiffing Teresa's curls while Adele's hair was done. I tried to wake up with a un po troppo dolce caffe latte made by Adele who insisted on ironing my dress again. They were a bundle of nerves and I tried to calm them down when Teresa found out that she couldn't zip up her dress. Adele tried to sew the zip but Teresa was moving too much and the usually calm Adele was screaming at her.

I stepped in and offered my seamstress service again which saved the day (just last week I had to sew Ferne's backpack cos it was falling apart from its weight!). Adele pronounced me a life saviour. The make-up artist was late but eventually showed up close to 10am. I was ready in 30mins while they took 4 hours. Posso immaginare come importante il matrimonio, since their 22 year-old niece Anna was getting married and they were indeed a very close-knitted famiglia. L struggled with cousin Linda's car but we made it to the bride's place in time to see her and her papa step into the mercs along with their best man and woman Massimo and Linda (married with 3 beautiful kids).

Another emergenza cropped up again when their 12-year old son Valerio got into our car with his sorella Michela and split his pants. He sobbed, troppo upset that his new suit was ruined. L drove him to his casa to change into jeans while I got off with Michela and the bride's mamma Luisa at the chiesa where the groom Emmanuele's relatives were waiting for the sposa. It was a simple ceremonia in the lovely local San Gennaro church. I tried to concentrate on the Father's blessings but was distracted by L's sister Linda's sobbing. Zia Teresa was also tearing but I found out later she was allergic to the mascara and cried all her make-up away.

We then hurried outside, each with a fistful of riso, ready to throw the rice at the just-married couple who came out to release two baskets of snow white doves. Fortunatamente il tempo è stato bellissimo. L was hoping it'd rain so it'd be cooler for the ragazzi in their suits. Che stronzo. My stomach was grumbling but I didn't want to spoil it with too much colazione because we were going to eat the house down at La Fontanina. We got lost for a good half 45mins - sempre colpa sua - and whizzed past a few bored-looking hookers on the roadside before we turned up at the clubhouse of sorts 30mins away from Pozzuoli where three weddings were going on the same day.

Everyone was hungry but the guests had to take photos with the wedding couple first in the giardino before being seated. I got more stares from relatives who probably never seen a Chinese person ever, much less at a Napolitano matrimonio. The pranzo soon got underway with 4 courses of antipasti - a mixed bread plate, proscuitto con melone, misti frutti di mare, more pesce, prawns and stewed octopus - fuelled by glasses of spumante and vino bianco of course. You'd think us Chinese eat fast? Well these italians put us to shame.

I was trying to stick to my strategy of eating piano piano in between passeggiate and sigarette. Burp. I needed a strategy (starting with a loose black dress) to survive the whole day of feasting - apparently the 'pranzo' would stretch all the way to 'cena' fino alle 10! A duo of musicians kickstarted the party with some ballads and soon everyone was slowdancing on the dancefloor. Molto bene. Dancing would be another strategy to burn the calories as Gino and I twirled each other around.

Soon more food in the form of 2 kinds of pasta arrived and we started to feel the weight of the food under our vestiti. The first was linguine with mixed seafood (si, they love their frutti di mare qui!) and the seconda pasta was twirls with more seafood in a fragrant creamy porcini sauce. The couple fed each other with this pasta, a sort of good luck ritual. I loved my pasta so I cleaned both plates easily, washed down with a glass of excellent red vino that L had stolen from the VIP table.

The band picked up the tempo and soon the guests were doing the mambo, twist and formed a long train around the restaurant, including the 80 yr-old grandaunt who confessed she loved to dance. Amazingly they also played 'Ti Scattero' Una Foto' by Tiziano F and I sang my heart out. L told me he couldn't understand why everyone loved me so much and had invited him to their houses for dinner and told him to bring me along. Hahaha. Perche sono brillante e molto modesta anche! Maybe they just want to stare at this asian piccolina polishing her food like a little hamster.

We picked at more seafood and a steak in between more talks, smokes and walks. Just as I thought I'd explode, the tennis-ball size of mozzarella arrived with a slice of proscuitto, olives and rucola. It was creamy, moist, soft, bouncy, delicate, fresh, pure orgasm - senza parole (speechless). It seemed everyone agreed and finished it within seconds even though they were moaning earlier. I couldn't understand why they reserved the best course for the last, before i dolci! Luckily I had allocated some space in my fourth stomach! :P

The fuochi articiali (fireworks) lit the night as we proceeded to the piscina (pool) for the cake-cutting ceremonia next to a buffet table of dolci. They gave me photos of me and the couple and the wedding favour, to which L whined I got everything and he got niente. Scemo. He fed me some baba and I downed a shot of limoncello for the road. We drove around (our usual wind-down time) and in all seriousness, he said he was really glad I made it to the wedding and I thanked him with sincere gratitude that it was a real eye-opener for me to witness such a unique, joyous celebration among such great company! We had been discussing the menu for months and funnily, it was now over. Teresa's dress survived the day (although her make up did not). No one was drunk or ha vomitato but tutti were deliriously contenti.

O fra tappost

Although my italiano had improved in the past weeks, I still had difficulty at times listening to them - specialmente quando sono stanca oppure quando loro parlano troppo veloce. One mattina while brushing my teeth, zia Teresa came into the bagno and muttered quickly about some pantaloni, calzoni, ecc and thinking she was asking me about what dolci I wanted to eat, I replied sleepily 'No, no dolci, solo caffe latte per me.' And the next thing I knew, she was flashing her underwear to me, gesturing if I needed to wash my underwear and clothes. I was like 'Ahhhh, ok!' Stupida me.

You can tell when a person is very comfortable with you, especially when she took off her bra in front of you. Teresa did just that one evening - slipped out her orange bra in my presence and I sniggered happily. It was a compliment, anche se un po strana. The aunts were both so kind and hospitable, even staying up to open the door for me when I stayed out late with L till 4am. Credo che Teresa never sleeps - mai - and gets up early everyday at 6am to clean the whole house. She changed my towel everyday even when I told her not to, made my caffe latte the way I liked it and brought out the biscotti, cioccolato and frutta like clockwork and made my bed every evening.

Another thing was as much as I tried to speak proper italiano and use i congiuntivi, the locals didn't use it at all. In fatti L always laughed at me whenever I brought up i congiuntivi because I was hoping to practise it. Bo. When I go back to classe in S'pore, I'd tell my teacher Anna Maria and classmates to skip the whole complicated sessions of congiuntivi. Penso che sia meglio cosi! :)Invece I had learnt many new parolaccia and modo di dire.

Specialmente during the weekend all the women in the house were worked into a frenzy, preparing for the upcoming wedding on lunedi. They were showing me their shimmering dresses, shoes and bags while L finally found time on sabato morning to buy his new suit, shirt, tie and shoes. He couldn't be arsed (whats' new) and said in jest 'Non si puo cambiare la cornice, il quadro è quello.' (One cannot change the photo frame, the picture is the same.) Keke. His cousin Gino also taught me to say 'sei gross!' which meant 'you're a big person'. Even le zie taught me to say 'Tu sei un coglione!' (Literally 'you are a testicle').

While L was shopping with his dad, I helped Mel with la verdura that their family friend Enrico had personally delivered from his mercato. He gets the freshest melazane, zucchini, carrote, ravanello, cipolle, pesca, chard-looking leafs, cherry tomatoes on vines and thus they benefit from his regular supplies ogni sabato. Soon L returned triumphant with a brown suit, tie and shoes. Tutti sono felici (all's happy). Pranzo was lovingly sauteed squid and the freshest mussels alongside an insalata from Enrico's greens.

Mel spoilt me too much and threw in the piccante radish when I said I like them. Stuffed, we burned off lunch with a stroll to his nonna to alter his trousers and Linda's dress, followed by a beautiful tramonto (sunset) at the porto. I loved our walks there as we'd poke fun at everything, including the fresh turds of dog shit on the pavement. Pozzuoli is a small town so unfortunately we'd always run into L's amici who'd in turn give me a glance over and ask him questions he knew which were coming.

When we got home feeling slimmer, Mel lined up another sumptuous meal comprising fritata di zucchini and breaded pork loin. Gino and Susy (these two had been going out for 9 long years!) came over too and we lazed around for a few italian minuti which meant forever. L and I drove around the downtown porto waiting forever for his friends, and then finally decided to f%ck them, and headed for Miseno for our first birra at a beachfront bar under the stars.

Soon we were joined by Gino, Susy, Gennaro, Antonio, Mara, Marco, his ragazza Nunzia, and even Felice showed up! I comatosed on the beach chair after one lethal mojito - my head was in a giro del mondo - and I only woke up when L came to check on me and introduced his 2 other simpatici amici, Giampaolo and his ragazza Nuviana. I have a sixth sense for people and took to them immediately. We finished the evening with a last drink at Pozzuoli porto and promised to meet up for caffe domani da Nuviana (which never happened, peccato).

Domenica was another lazy warm day. L drove us to Parco Virgiliano on the hill in an expensive neighbourhood which came with priceless views of Vesuvius and the Naples bay below. In Toscana, I admired the tall cyprese trees - qui, it was the picturesque pino (stone pine tree) that got my attention. They were everywhere; soft round bushes swaying lightly against the clear blue sky - and reminded me of the 'song shu' pine trees in China. Apparently the parco was famoso because according to legend, the poet Virgil was buried here. Bo.

We were sweating by the time we reached the panaromic lookout points where I pointed out the 'love' locks chained to the railing to L. He didn't know they were inspired by the film "Ho Voglia Di Te' (which Tiziano's 'Ti Scattero Una Foto' is on the soundtrack too). What kind of italian is he, man? Hehe. Defeated by the heat, we came back for pranzo of baked lasagne - I always get the biggest portion - and after that Mel served us salsiccia con friarielli, one of L's fav dishes.

The pork sausages were served with the sautéed bitter rapini (broccoli rabe), unique to Napoli. It was an acquired taste which was failing me since I polished tutto on my piatto. Just as I was about to explodere, Mel and Raffaele surprised me with a tray of sfogliatelle and eager smiles - such sweethearts - but I could only nibble on a piece and surrendered. We had to walk to the porto again for the sake of our waistline where L pointed out the Tempio Serapis.

In the past if there was any volcanic activity, the water level within the temple would rise thus serving as a warning sign to the locals. Later that evening we joined Gino, Susy and his altri amici at a Dublin bar where we had birra and fabulous finger food. Greedy me was quffing down my arancini riceballs while eyeing Marco's amazing antipasti platter of proscuitto, mozzarella and olives. I was sempre la sola ragazza asiatica but they never fail to make me feel at home.

Mangia! Mangia!

It's amazing how fast one could put on weight. I was so contenta last week when I lost 2kg eating miserably on my own but since I had arrived at Pozzuoli 3 days ago, I think I'd probably put it back on and di piu (more)! Gulp. It's all Luigi's mamma's fault who fed me round the clock and consistently implored me to 'Mangia! Mangia!' (Eat! Eat!) untill I exploded with buonissimi homecooked pasta, pesce, cane al ragù, insalata, dolci and vino. She'd then asked: 'Ti piace?' (You like?). Si si, certo!

La cucina di mamma è sempre il migliore. Luigi had complained to me that all his mamma cared about now was what's on the menu for Carla. She was worried if I'd eat well and told him not to let me starve and stashed biscotti and acqua in his bag for our day trip to Procida on Friday. Yesterday we had set off for a giro di Napoli, starting from the lively (aka watch your borsa) Spaccanapoli - the infamous straight street that housed rows of cramped miscellanous shops, bars, churches and piazze. I had wanted to bring my camera but L said it was better to leave it at home cos we didn't want to risk it being snatched away. Penso che sia meglio cosi' (I think it's better like this - has become my fav phrase).

It's a pity though as Napoli was indeed beautiful and photogenic once you got past the mad chaos. What stuck me the most was its unpretentiousness and realness. That aside, the magnificent Duomo, with its series of jaw-dropping Mannerist paintings set into the carved glided wooden ceiling above, was stupendo! I've seen a lot of duomos but this artistry was senza parole. It so happened they were celebrating San Gennaro that week and on that day (19 Settembre), the blood of the saint that was kept in 2 vials miraculously turned to liquid.

We saw the priest brought out the vials to the faithful crowds and then hurried to glance at the Castel Nuovo, elegante Palazzo Reale, Galleria Umberto I, Teatro San Carlo (tried to sneak in) and San Francesco di Paolo (chiuso!) at the grande Piazza Plebiscito. I also took a long time to decide on a merenda (snack) and finalmente indulged in a dense sfogiatella frolla, which L preferred over the other flaky version.

For Friday, I was deciding between Ischia or Procida (having been to the infamously expensive neighbour Capri isle) and the smaller, piu rustica Pro-ci-da won hands down since it was just 30mins away in the traghetto (9E for 2-way). The weather was freaking hot yesterday despite the arrival of autumn. We sweated like mad, sizzling under the sun with a birra in hand, and walked a piedi dappertutto, each with a song stuck in our head (me Tiziano, him Cure).

Deciding that the spiaggia was too warm, we found a charming quiet porto where a handful of late-summer turisti were lazing around like the gatti. I went trigger happy, finally found material for my cat photo exhibition next year as the cats posed for me, each dazed under the sizzling sun. I was starving at 2.30pm but held on for a late lunch at Luigi's mom later. We had another birra instead and bought the local dolci 'Le Lingue' - crema-filled pastries shaped like tongues for his famiglia specialmente Gino.

Da sua, his mamma presented me with a huge plate of linguine alla vongole (the sweetest smallest clams), followed by a heap of pesce fritto - made up of alici, small local fishes deboned and flattened, then sprinkled with sale, coated with egg and flour and fried to a nice brown crust. After dinner, we picked up his cousin Gino and went to catch up with his amici - mattissimo Antonio and mild-mannered Gennaro - at Gino's cousin's bar at the porto. The mojitos were kickarse and soon I was saying 'O fra! Tappost?!' (local slang for 'Yo brother, all's good?) to all the ragazzi.

The boys were soon getting too loud especially Ant who wanted to dance and he drove us sigaretta in mouth and fist pumping the air, blasting the music in his macchina, to a packed local ristorante-pub La Bavarese. I was the only Asian persona there among a mad throng of drunk locals openly checking out one another. Le ragazze were all wearing boots, short skirts and low tops with their huge titties hanging out. I suffered from the worst tits envy here. Veramente (really).

We drank more Sangria and the boys stuffed their faces with tapas and bruschette. I was shivering with cold and dragging on my sigaretta outside, wondering how these girls could endure the late-night chill in their skimpy state. We left for another bar Molt and then a cafe at the porto for caffe. Ant insisted I have one too but it was almost 4am so I declined, otherwise I'd not sleep. L was too brillo (high) to drive back so I took over the wheels and drove back piano piano (slow) on the right side. When we reached home, we both pronounced me 'brillante'.

Napolitana zitella

I slept like a maiale again and left Perugia early at 10am and caught the no.9 bus to the stazione in time for the 11.18am treno to Napoli C.LE (freaking' 43E!), switching to an Eurostar at Roma Termini. Avevo moltissssimo fame e fortunatamente ho avuto di 20mins di comprare un tramezzino (sandwich) to munch on untill 3.55pm arrival time. I always love train rides and for the first time on this trip, I could truly kick back in style (Eurostar is un po' caro ma it's the best money could buy) and savour the dusty plains and majestic mountains as we pulled away from Lazio to Campania.

The treno was like a gentle roller coaster sailing in air lulling everyone to sleep in their deep cushy seats. I was deep in thoughts singing to Tiziano Ferro while reflecting on the last 2 weeks. Si, some things had not turned out the way as planned but the adventures were best taken with a pinch of salt and a huge dose of humour. And the faith I had in most of my italian amici was strengthened, plus I had rediscovered the joys of travelling da sola. Si, it's all coming back to me now. Anyway I couldn't wait for the next leg of my journey as I'd be staying with Luigi's 2 zie (aunts) and his whole famiglia was waiting for me to show up at Pozzuoli, just outside of Napoli citta.

At the stazione, Piazza Garibaldi was still in a chaos and there was a public scuffle which broke out between a screaming lady and a short man among curious onlookers. Benvenuta a Napoli! Nothing had changed even after 2 years. My first impression of this 3rd largest citta in Italia was initially of shock and doubt but it grew on me quickly, its caos and energy made one constantly on the edge. Luigi found me easily - I didn't think it was that difficile to find a short Asian ragazza with a backpack. It was good to see him finally, amazingly we had managed to stay in touch all this time and he was a dearer friend than ever.

We took the treno to Pozzuoli, a charming seaside town, where the first stop was at his casa and the first people I met were his sweet parents Melina and Raffaele, 22-year old sorella Linda and Michela, the 9-month old baby girl of his cousin, also named Linda (whose brother was named Luigi too!). Soon zia Teresa arrived and we hopped over to her place where I'd be staying over and met her elder sorella, zia Adele who welcomed me with a tray of dolci (yum) and was giving English tuition to a rather reluctant 15 year-old Felice (Michela's oldest brother). Fortunatamente she's a dottore in English so she'd definitely make my life less stressata.

Then we hopped over to his mamma's famiglia where his 78-year old nonna, aunts, uncles and cousins were waiting for us too. It seemed that word of my arrival had spread and Luigi seemed more nervous than me, warning me of a possibile Inquisition - possibly worse than il controllo (customs). I laughed it off; nothing unfazed the PR queen since my job required adept social skills, handy for meeting strangers. Nonna and 2 zie were already waiting at the open doorway as we stepped out of the tiny lift and were thrown into a living room full of curious relatives.

The questions came fast and furious, they wanted to know everything - 'Come ti chiami? Di dove sei? Spore è vicino Cina o Giappone? Quanti anni hai? Che fai? Che parli a Spore? Che bei capelli!' - as the youngest zia Silvana fed me with the dolci of torta caprese and mini cupcakes she made for the San Gennaro festa (he's the patron saint of Napoli) and another zio opened a bottiglia of his homemade vino bianco. Nonna sat there beaming amid a flurry of new faces, names and handshakes, as I ate and drank to the insistent 'Mangia! Mangia!' (Eat! Eat!). They watched a home video of their latest vacanza in Sardegna and soon the kids and nonna were on their feet dancing to the tune of some pop hits.

Outside on the balcone, it was fresco and tranquillo as the aunts chatted with me some more in full view of the Anfiteatro across the road, incidentally the 2nd (or 3rd?) largest in Italia. Si, che incredibile! We hurried back to his folks where his mamma made yummilicious pasta with pesce, followed by more prawns and fish, cheese and olives and vino. I stuffed my face as if I hadn't eaten in years. I think I had just about regained my buon appetito :P - burp. After dinner, we walked to the porto to meet his cousin Luigi (lets call him Gino) and amico Gennaro (auguri!), and later rode back on their moto. Such fun!