Southern Comfort: Adventures in Campania
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In my second year of university, my Italian speaking teacher asked my class if there was 'a kind of racism' between the north and the south of England. My classmates and I, who were representative of University of Bristol in that we were almost all from London or the home counties, agreed that there was, although we were quick to assure her that it was just a gentle, friendly rivalry and not really based in truth. "Ah, OK," she said, in her beautifully lilting Neapolitan accent. "In Italy, it is true."
This blog wouldn't exist if it weren't for Italy. I spent nine years studying its language, I have written countless essays about its culture, and this time nearly three years ago I put a perfectly good life in the UK on hold to move there for six months. An impressive dedication to the country, considering my enthusiasm for it stems from a love of pizza (I wish I could say that I'm being hyperbolic, but I've dedicated a considerable amount of time trying to figure out another reason why ten-year-old me decided to fixate on this country and I genuinely can't think of one). However, up until very recently my experiences of Italy were limited in that they stopped at Rome.
Oh sure, I could tell you all about the south – in statistical terms, at least. The north/south divide in Italy extends farther than a bit of banter about whether Blur are better than Oasis* or the correct pronunciation of 'grass' and 'bubblegum', and anyone whose knowledge of Italian goes beyond the Duolingo course will be aware of it. Residents of Naples, the nearest large city to where I stayed in Campania, enjoy only half the GDP per capita of those of Milan, the nearest large city to where I lived in Lombardia. In parts of the south, youth unemployment reaches staggering highs of 75%. This rivalry also has political consequences, most notably the foundation of a party whose principle aim is separating the country in two. The south is also where the Mafia and various other similar criminal organisations come from, manipulating the social and political landscape of the country and inspiring hundreds of inaccurate American gangster movies.
I knew the south well in academic terms, but in useful real-life terms I come up short. I can give you restaurant recommendations in most of the major cities and some of the smaller ones in the north and the centre, but if you asked me about Naples, Bari or Palermo, the country's second, seventh, and eighth largest cities respectively, I would shrug and say something like, "Shame about all that organised crime. Heard the pizza's good, though." I speak Italian with what my LinkedIn profile claims is 'full professional proficiency', but I was totally unfamiliar with a swathe of the country that was vast in both its numbers and its cultural significance. Last month I returned to Italy for the first time since I lived there, and I finally set foot in the south.
I've written before about the differences between living in and visiting a place, and how easy it is to glamorise somewhere when there as a tourist. I used to roll my eyes at people who waxed lyrical about how amazing Italy was, remembering the misogynistic men and thankfully small but still disturbing band of skinheads whose presence marred my otherwise pleasant town of residence. I harbour no delusions about Italy. The statistics quoted above are real, and there are many people in the south who experience great hardships. Southern Italy is not the easiest place to live in, but, my God, I cannot think of a more perfect place to spend a holiday.
Those who followed my blog when I lived in France will know that I see Provence as paradise on Earth. Campania is pretty much the same, only significantly cheaper. Here you will find everything that makes the Mediterranean so irresistible: stunning landscapes, perfectly turquoise sea, glorious weather that allows us to grow some of the most delicious food in the world. The tomatoes alone were enough to reduce me to tears, and the southerners have taken to the concept of deep fat frying with considerable enthusiasm, which I think everyone apart from our family GP is very happy about. My favourite thing about the south is that it was exactly what I had expected from Italy when I moved there, and what I was disappointed not to experience in Milan and its surrounding cities. The people were warm and friendly, starting conversations with strangers and being unwaveringly patient and helpful with tourists, in most cases despite the language barrier. One of the first things I saw upon arrival was a man on a scooter, a pizza in one hand and his young son balanced precariously in front of him. Later that week I popped into a local shop and saw the sexagenarian cashier serving a clearly underage boy alcohol while openly smoking a Marlboro Light. It was exactly what I expected from Italy, and it was wonderful.
Are there any downsides to holidaying in southern Italy? I can think of three. One is the mosquitoes, which are such a scourge upon the planet that I imagine their existence must shake the faith of even the most zealous believers. The second is the fact that a lot of people speak dialect rather than standard Italian, which isn't inherently a bad thing but does make holding a conversation quite difficult and can make restaurant trips feel rather like plunging your hand into a Mystery Box. And the third is the way that they drive. Italy has one of the highest rates of traffic-related deaths in Europe, a fact which has never been met with any surprise whatsoever. Southerners in Italy drive with the urgency one would usually only expect if there was someone bleeding to death and/or giving birth in the back seat, and none of the care. For the same reason that I don't own a townhouse in Knightsbridge, I don't drive, and the time I spent in the car mostly consisted of being flung from side to side as my white-faced father avoided smashing into cars whose drivers, from the looks of their driving, really wanted to be smashed into. Throughout our holiday, we almost always travelled from town to town using the bus. You know the roads are bad when Hertfordshire residents are voluntarily getting on buses.
In spite of its flaws, Campania managed to defy my expectations and I spent a blissful ten days being reminded of why I fell in love with Italy in the first place. While I wouldn't say I'm ready to return to a life without zebra crossings and cheddar just yet, I've been left with the desire to return to the south, which is more than can be said for any trip I made into Milan. This time my desire to go to Italy doesn't stem entirely from the pizza. That's only about 75% of it.
*They are, obviously.
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