28th April 2006, Napoli
As elsewhere in the world, there should only be two reasons for being on the road in Naples. You are either a pedestrian, or you are in or on a vehicle of some description.
The life of a pedestrian in Naples is one of heart stopping moments. The locals have an unspoken rule (most of them also being drivers, or related to drivers) that after a cursory glimpse of the approaching traffic they just step out onto the road. How you do this, i.e. the style and accompanying mannerisms used, largely depends on who you are within the social configuration of the city.
If you are masculine, well built and / or confident (like Gigi) you just step out, eyeballing anything on wheels that may be belting down the road, zigzagging to avoid potholes, and most likely driven by someone either arguing animatedly with a passenger, smoking a cigarette or talking on a mobile phone – or all three simultaneously – and only paying negligible attention to the road. It’s the way you eyeball that counts. Stern, no nonsense, alert and ready to curse and gesticulate just in case some hapless driver fails to notice you. You must also be physically assertive, obviously someone not to be messed with, someone it would be better not to run into with a car.
If you are elderly, frail or somehow incapacitated you wait at a pedestrian crossing (the white stipes in themselves mean nothing), watching the traffic zoom pass with an increasingly concerned look on your face, fearful yet determined to make it to the other side. Just like that damn chicken in all of those lame jokes. Eventually you spot a gap in the oncoming traffic and totter out, holding up your hand or walking stick, waving frantically at anything on wheels. Hopefully they notice you and slow down, and maybe even stop, thus holding up other vehicles behind it. Except of course for those that don’t stop they just go onto the other side of the road and keep moving. Your other option is to spy someone confident and strong (like Gigi), or a couple (like us) and as they step out onto the road start accosting them, beseeching them to help you across the road in a manner that can’t really be refused yet still demonstrates pride and a certain toughness. Once you make it to the other side you thank them profusely and totter off.
Mothers with prams are a law unto themselves in this city. With the population rate falling, and the average Italian woman only having one child it still seems as though the city is full of mothers with babies in prams. The reality is that in a city of six million, where the population is largely poor, uneducated, unemployed, adhering to Catholicism and still behind in terms of contraception and feminism, the birth rate is probably slightly higher than the national average. The other thing is that it’s not only babies and toddlers in prams, but children as old as five or six.
Women pushing prams very rarely do so on the footpath. Instead they cruise down the side of the road, alongside the parked cars, which often means they are walking in the centre of the road. Of course in a culture where children are esteemed, indulged and increasingly the target of kidnappings this habit is generally tolerated, even when the footpath is perfectly good, and traffic is mounting up behind a mummy dressed in either a pink tracksuit or tight jeans, platforms and heavy makeup. The scary thing though is when mummy uses the pram as a barrier between herself and any oncoming traffic when crossing the road. It’s as though prams have magic shields, preventing anything travelling at any speed from ploughing into them, collecting pram, baby and sundry contents in one horrifying mess.
Mothers with kids on foot are another matter. All around the world parents try to get their children to hold their hands when out on the street. And all around the world kids try to avoid the hand holding ritual, seeking some independence and freedom. When crossing the street with children, mothers tend to be a little more hesitant, which often only tends to confuse drivers who are expecting people to step out in front of them without notice. However it’s when little boys are involved that it gets interesting. Little boys watch their fathers, and naturally imitate them, quickly learning to pose, gesture and curse. When out with their mothers, it’s not unusual to see a little boy on the edge of the road, holding his mother’s hand, with the other hand up as if to stop the traffic, cursing at cars that fail to follow his directions, chest pumped out, eyeballing anything that moves in an attempt to look confident and intimidating. Eventually someone in a car will stop, or at least slow to a crawl, only further encouraging the boy by confirming that his posing, gesturing and cursing were the factors that secured their successful road crossing.
Gaggles of teenagers have an advantage in that they rule the road by the sheer size of the group. They probably won’t be in a particular hurry to emulate that chicken and get to the other side either. Instead, taking their time, chatting, teasing, flirting, eating, and dragging their backpacks or current love interest behind them. And like teenagers around the world, any attempts to hurry them up, tooting or yelling from an open car window, will only result in defiance and further delays as they stop on the road, in front of the line of cars and gesture with their heads, hands, faces or words as if to say “What do you want? We’re crossing, we’re crossing, it’s our neighbourhood, it’s our street, we’ll take our time, and you’ll just have to wait my ‘friend’”.
Foreigners - like myself – are probably the most dangerous pedestrians. We continue to think that we need to look left and right, wait for a suitable gap in the traffic and then hurry across the road. None of these rules apply in Naples. Foreigners that wait haplessly beside the road are likely to cause an accident. Local drivers expect you to step out in front of them so as they approach, slowing down and if you hesitate everyone gets confused. It’s a moment’s hesitation that will get you killed in Naples. If you lack the courage (read: the balls) to take a leap of faith and just cross, the best thing to do is wait for a local and trail along behind (or better still beside them but on the side away from the approaching traffic).
Nuns, and others dressed in religious garb, are a special group. Traffic hurtling down the road, with the abovementioned drivers who have their attention torn in several different directions, will always stop, or at least slow down, for a nun. It’s as though the locals know that they need to stop for god. For foreigners trying to cross the road, a nun on the side of the street is a particularly good omen.
Pedestrians generally have right of way in Naples. Of course, that’s not to say that if you decide to step out in front of a truck careering down the road, beeping and flashing his lights (clear indications that he’s not going to stop for anyone) and find yourself on the other side of the Pearly Gates you can turn around and ask for your money back. Naples is after all a city that thrives on a system of unwritten laws and rules created to circumnavigate the burden of ridiculous legislation in place. But when it suits, it’s those written laws that the local will apply without hesitation, throwing their hands, and eyebrows, up in the air if you turn around and ask ‘What happened?”
As elsewhere in the world, there should only be two reasons for being on the road in Naples. You are either a pedestrian, or you are in or on a vehicle of some description.
The life of a pedestrian in Naples is one of heart stopping moments. The locals have an unspoken rule (most of them also being drivers, or related to drivers) that after a cursory glimpse of the approaching traffic they just step out onto the road. How you do this, i.e. the style and accompanying mannerisms used, largely depends on who you are within the social configuration of the city.
If you are masculine, well built and / or confident (like Gigi) you just step out, eyeballing anything on wheels that may be belting down the road, zigzagging to avoid potholes, and most likely driven by someone either arguing animatedly with a passenger, smoking a cigarette or talking on a mobile phone – or all three simultaneously – and only paying negligible attention to the road. It’s the way you eyeball that counts. Stern, no nonsense, alert and ready to curse and gesticulate just in case some hapless driver fails to notice you. You must also be physically assertive, obviously someone not to be messed with, someone it would be better not to run into with a car.
If you are elderly, frail or somehow incapacitated you wait at a pedestrian crossing (the white stipes in themselves mean nothing), watching the traffic zoom pass with an increasingly concerned look on your face, fearful yet determined to make it to the other side. Just like that damn chicken in all of those lame jokes. Eventually you spot a gap in the oncoming traffic and totter out, holding up your hand or walking stick, waving frantically at anything on wheels. Hopefully they notice you and slow down, and maybe even stop, thus holding up other vehicles behind it. Except of course for those that don’t stop they just go onto the other side of the road and keep moving. Your other option is to spy someone confident and strong (like Gigi), or a couple (like us) and as they step out onto the road start accosting them, beseeching them to help you across the road in a manner that can’t really be refused yet still demonstrates pride and a certain toughness. Once you make it to the other side you thank them profusely and totter off.
Mothers with prams are a law unto themselves in this city. With the population rate falling, and the average Italian woman only having one child it still seems as though the city is full of mothers with babies in prams. The reality is that in a city of six million, where the population is largely poor, uneducated, unemployed, adhering to Catholicism and still behind in terms of contraception and feminism, the birth rate is probably slightly higher than the national average. The other thing is that it’s not only babies and toddlers in prams, but children as old as five or six.
Women pushing prams very rarely do so on the footpath. Instead they cruise down the side of the road, alongside the parked cars, which often means they are walking in the centre of the road. Of course in a culture where children are esteemed, indulged and increasingly the target of kidnappings this habit is generally tolerated, even when the footpath is perfectly good, and traffic is mounting up behind a mummy dressed in either a pink tracksuit or tight jeans, platforms and heavy makeup. The scary thing though is when mummy uses the pram as a barrier between herself and any oncoming traffic when crossing the road. It’s as though prams have magic shields, preventing anything travelling at any speed from ploughing into them, collecting pram, baby and sundry contents in one horrifying mess.
Mothers with kids on foot are another matter. All around the world parents try to get their children to hold their hands when out on the street. And all around the world kids try to avoid the hand holding ritual, seeking some independence and freedom. When crossing the street with children, mothers tend to be a little more hesitant, which often only tends to confuse drivers who are expecting people to step out in front of them without notice. However it’s when little boys are involved that it gets interesting. Little boys watch their fathers, and naturally imitate them, quickly learning to pose, gesture and curse. When out with their mothers, it’s not unusual to see a little boy on the edge of the road, holding his mother’s hand, with the other hand up as if to stop the traffic, cursing at cars that fail to follow his directions, chest pumped out, eyeballing anything that moves in an attempt to look confident and intimidating. Eventually someone in a car will stop, or at least slow to a crawl, only further encouraging the boy by confirming that his posing, gesturing and cursing were the factors that secured their successful road crossing.
Gaggles of teenagers have an advantage in that they rule the road by the sheer size of the group. They probably won’t be in a particular hurry to emulate that chicken and get to the other side either. Instead, taking their time, chatting, teasing, flirting, eating, and dragging their backpacks or current love interest behind them. And like teenagers around the world, any attempts to hurry them up, tooting or yelling from an open car window, will only result in defiance and further delays as they stop on the road, in front of the line of cars and gesture with their heads, hands, faces or words as if to say “What do you want? We’re crossing, we’re crossing, it’s our neighbourhood, it’s our street, we’ll take our time, and you’ll just have to wait my ‘friend’”.
Foreigners - like myself – are probably the most dangerous pedestrians. We continue to think that we need to look left and right, wait for a suitable gap in the traffic and then hurry across the road. None of these rules apply in Naples. Foreigners that wait haplessly beside the road are likely to cause an accident. Local drivers expect you to step out in front of them so as they approach, slowing down and if you hesitate everyone gets confused. It’s a moment’s hesitation that will get you killed in Naples. If you lack the courage (read: the balls) to take a leap of faith and just cross, the best thing to do is wait for a local and trail along behind (or better still beside them but on the side away from the approaching traffic).
Nuns, and others dressed in religious garb, are a special group. Traffic hurtling down the road, with the abovementioned drivers who have their attention torn in several different directions, will always stop, or at least slow down, for a nun. It’s as though the locals know that they need to stop for god. For foreigners trying to cross the road, a nun on the side of the street is a particularly good omen.
Pedestrians generally have right of way in Naples. Of course, that’s not to say that if you decide to step out in front of a truck careering down the road, beeping and flashing his lights (clear indications that he’s not going to stop for anyone) and find yourself on the other side of the Pearly Gates you can turn around and ask for your money back. Naples is after all a city that thrives on a system of unwritten laws and rules created to circumnavigate the burden of ridiculous legislation in place. But when it suits, it’s those written laws that the local will apply without hesitation, throwing their hands, and eyebrows, up in the air if you turn around and ask ‘What happened?”
2 comments:
You had me laughing Jenny! You hapless foreigner! Lynda
your description takes me back there and makes me feel homesick.
One small point, when you say "All around the world....." are you sure?
see you soon
sophie
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