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.
It is low times like this that I want to punch the wall or bite my lips to stifle a silent scream. Implodero'. It's not so much feeling lonely or bored. I've no major problems being single nor do I lack any things to do. A volte it's the emotional isolation that can kill. I realised in Perugia when I was on my own - that no matter how interessante una persona, lui/lei is only as dull as the brick wall staring back. 
La vita e' certamente molto fragile. This week I received two tragic news - a former colleague J is at an advanced stage of lung cancer and some people are planning to visit him, probably one last time. He's only in his 40s and is happily married with kids. And my friend's cat Travis killed himself (I've yet to find out the details). I went home and hugged Jarvis et al every morning and night.
