Oops

Embarrasing tale. Twice a week I go to the airport to teach English to three directors. One day this week I had too many coffees and too much water and was busting to use the 'ladies'. Unfortunately there were a heap of other people using the toilets (shared, one cubicle for men, one for women) as there was another meeting in a nearby room. I tiptoed into the mens unable to wait for the ladies cubicle to become free.

Having observed the unsavoury state of the porcelain rim (no seat) I wiped it down and then squatted over it, sighing with relief as my bladder emptied.

As I stood up it was then that I realised I completely missed the bowl and effectively pissed all over the floor. Not just a trickle, but a lake.

There were now 5 or 6 people crammed into the bathroom waiting and all I could think about was 'should I clean it up?' or pretend it was like that when I went in. The latter would require making a big fuss, drawing attention to the flood of urine, waving my hands around...it just seemed easier to use half an industrial roll of paper and dab it up.

Gi tells me he would have gone with the fuss method. It speaks volumes about our different personalities if nothing else.

By the way, this is personal, so please don't tell anyone else.

Quintessential

I'm obsessed with taking photos of the Vesuvio Volcano. Here's the latest.

Castle Nuovo (what's new about it?)

Recent autumn day photos of Castel Nuovo (the New Castle). This first one is fabulous, if I do say so myself. It is a real castle. Below are photos of the cannon ball splat on the wall, the African men selling fake handbags and excavation work on the new underground station and the Roman ruins they have 'discovered'. What a surprise! A city that is 3000 years old has old stuff under the ground. Interestingly though, every time I walk past and check out the archeaologists they always seem to be having a coffee break.

Castle of the Egg

Some pictures I took a few weeks ago on a walking tour of the castles of Naples with lovely Scottish lass Colette (with one 'l'). It is one of my favourite spots, truly historical and magical.

Colette...why did you leave?

Winter on Wednesday

A cold snap has come down from Russia. Everyone is walking around Naples rugged up like new born babies. Coats, scarves, hats and boots are mandatory. You'd think that living in Europe would mean that people are accustomed to the cold. However, Naples is a city of sunshine nestled between the volcano and the bay looking out over the Mediterranean Sea and its people are far more comfortable with sweating than shivering.

I must admit though that I am quite enjoying the cold snap. I try to check the five day weather forecast and feel slightly disappointed if the maximum rises above 20 degrees Celcius. I figure I'm going to get enough heat, humidity and sunshine back in Australia. Besides I enjoy dressing up for the cold, having the central heating warming up the house, and not needing a reason to indulge in a real, hot chocolate.

Of course it hasn't always been like this. I used to hate the cold on this side of the world. I would be miserable about it. But after several visits and three periods of living through real winters I now have the hang of it. It's all about layers. That's the secrets. And when it's really, really bitterly cold it's about thermals. Yep, I have a thermal vest that I inherited (stole) from my mother. And the most amazing thermal slip that goes under skirts. Ahh, just thinking about them sitting in my drawer, ready for action is comforting.

The cold has changed people's buying habits. It's a struggle to buy 'mixed pasta' which is a particular type of pasta used for winter style meals with legumes. The bakery is even busier than usual. More alcohol is being dashed into morning coffees. Lettuces are suddenly not that popular at the green grocers. Cucumbers are certainly not on many shopping lists.

It's dark at 5pm of an evening now. Usually cloudy, grey skies and intermittent rain. But the odd day blooms bright and blue and the cold air wakes you up, invigorates you. It's the season of winter that always reminds me that I'm alive. And as the shops start to put up their Christmas decorations I'm reminded that yet another year is coming to a close, and before too long I'll be remembering the winters in Europe with a sense of nostalgia.

In the meantime though, I'm happily wandering around this incredible city enjoying the cold, my red coat and boots while my fellow citizens grumble into their scarves about the weather from 'the north'.

Spa Delights

Several weeks ago, my gorgeous Neapolitan friend, Francesca, invited me to a thermal spa. Every time Gigi and I have tried to organise a day at a thermal spa something has blocked the plans, lack of funds, lack of time, transport issues. Visiting such an establishment has been on my list of ‘must-do’ things so I jumped at the chance.

I had such a lovely experience with Francesca, and her friend Nicoletta, that I was determined to repeat it. The only problem was the cost. You can’t just go on a one off visit. You need to purchase a ten-entry pass. After debating the pros and cons for two weeks, I decided to dive in the deep end and commit to using the card before it expires in three months time.

My decision coincided with the news that my new friend Colette is returning to Scotland for a job offer. With two weeks left I thought she might enjoy a thermal spa experience, and I was certain that Gigi would join us.

The biggest problem is the getting there. We took the underground one stop to Montesanto and then walked around the corner to the newly constructed (almost finished) Cumana train / Cable car station. Within minutes, we were on a train heading west towards Pozzuoli. At Bagnoli we had to disembark, follow the crowd down to the main road where we boarded a bus that drove us to the next station. We then boarded another train and continued the journey. Why? Because the track between the two stations has collapsed because of storm water damage. At Lucrino station we again disembarked and then walked about 300 metres, leaving the main drag for an unsigned road that wandered towards the thermal spa.

At reception I paid the €150 for the ten-trip pass, and was surprised at the request to provide my Codice Fiscale (the equivalent of Australia’s tax file number, or the UK National Health Insurance code), which of course I don’t carry and couldn’t produce.

The establishment strikes me as being very 60’s European style. The gardens are all carefully maintained and most plants are labelled. Garden beds are home to a fascinating mix of herbs, vegetables, succulents and flowers, all in carefully cultivated rows. There are several external thermal pools, with deck chairs scattered around for clients to stretch out on between dips. Yet there is something slightly jaded and unslick about the place.

The biggest pool is also used for self-mud treatments. Stepping down into the warm water, your toes hit the bottom and instantly recoil at the squelchy feel of the slimy mud beneath. After adapting to the smell and taste of the mineralised sulphur enhanced waters, you need to scoop up handfuls of the mud. Getting out of the pool, you then slather the mud all over including your face. The next bit is a little strange as you stand on the edge of the pool, almost completely still waiting for the mud to dry. It fades from deep black to light grey and I could feel it pulling the skin on my face. Then you jump under the outdoor showers that are right next to the pool, making sure that all of the mud residue is removed. You don’t want to walk around like one guy did with mud smeared all over his cheek and forehead. It’s definitely not the sexist thing I’ve done recently, but we all commented on how soft and smooth our skin felt.

We then lay in the surprisingly warm November sun for a while before heading up to the restaurant for salads, freshly squeezed juice and coffee. All delivered at a reasonable price, with quick and friendly service. As I ate my tuna and mozzarella salad I took in the line of pomegranate trees, the rose vines, the rows of fennel plants and the blueness of an early winter sky.

Lunch was followed by the serious stuff. Passing the room full of lockers and change rooms you enter the sauna and spa area. Removing our robes, we entered the fabulously warm thermal spa. With several jets on one wall people were giving themselves all over body massages. Similarly, you could step underneath a strong torrent of water and have you neck, shoulders and upper back pummelled. The other nice thing about the thermal spa is that with all that water gushing around, and the whole place structured like a cave with an echo it quite impossible to carry out a conversation…aahhh, to limit the conversational capacity of Italians when I am stuck in a crowd on a bus, it tis but a dream.

The next step is the sauna room. There are two separate saunas, both have been dug out of the tufa rock and are heated naturally by the volcanic activity in the area. The sauna ‘cave’ gets to about 50˚C. Sitting on a wooden bench that had my buttocks jumping from the absorbed heat, I looked around at my fellow ‘sweaters’, relieved to see that most of them were struggling to breath. A branch of eucalyptus hung on one wall.

Once you’ve had enough of the sauna you exit and jump under a cold shower. They move from cold to hot to cold showers several times during the whole sauna/spa ritual in an attempt to improve circulation. I was waiting for a couple of heart attack victims to hit the ceramic tiles while waiting for my turn, but, alas it wasn’t to be.

Rewrapped in our robes, we strolled out to the next surprise, the ‘Zone of Silence’. No mobiles, no radios or stereos and no talking. Stretched out on another deck chair, wrapped up in towels, lulled to a relaxed state by the water, warmth and tranquillity we dozed along with our fellow spa goers. The gentleman beside Colette didn’t seem to understand the ‘silence’ bit though as his snoring reverberated around the room.

After about an hour we roused ourselves, used the showers and hair dryers provided, dressed and headed back into the chaos of central Naples. Five hours of relaxation though was certainly worth the effort of taking public transport and the pain of parting with €150. The only problem was my slight sense of guilt at the amount of water we consumed, a direct contrast to the drought and water restrictions that are in place at home. I’m pretty sure no one else was concerned about the constantly running taps.

I suppose it’s just one more reason to make sure we go and enjoy the facilities, a little secret haven tucked away in a corner of outer Naples. I finally understand how some people find a balance living in Naples where the constant traffic, stress, noise and general ‘Neapolitan-ness’ of everything really can be tiring…the odd day at a thermal spa would certainly help recharge your batteries!