Memoirs from the Orange Army

The Ruins of Napoli

This chapter is the eye-opening insight into life in Naples. The next Pompeii.

I arrived into Naples and after experiencing a few slightly chilly days in back in England, the blazing sunshine was most welcome. It was very nearly thirty degrees and it was only ten 'o' clock in the morning.

I impatiently waited for my hold bag to arrive onto the carousel and after waiting nearly forty five minutes it turned up. I wrestled my suitcase off the carousel and trotted outside where the heat hit me almost instantly. My eyes darted around surveying the scene, lots of golden brown tanned people strolling around the mass of honking cars and taxis whilst yelling in all kinds of languages. I reached into my pocket for my cigarettes, selected one and lit it. Ahh, sweet nicotine. I felt any stress and cares fall away whilst I stood to the side and watched this new world rush by.

After finishing my cigarette I began to walk around searching for the crew room. There was supposed to be information on how to get to the hotel using the crew transfer. I found the crew room but nobody was inside. No base management, no crew, no flight deck, there wasn't a single soul in sight. Everything was new, a little basic but new nonetheless. I saw a notice with information about the crew transfer and tried to call them on the phones on the desk without any result. I cursed under my breath and decided to use my own phone. After a short while of waiting and a couple of mix ups, the hotel offered me to get a normal taxi and they would pay as we arrived.

I flagged down a taxi and eagerly got in. I couldn't wait to change out of my uniform into normal clothes and start exploring what the city had to offer. The driver was a middle aged Italian guy. His hairline had started to recede but he had wild black curly hair. He wore simple black shades and had half a cigar held limply in his mouth. He got out of the taxi to put my luggage in the boot of the car. He beamed and motioned for me to take a seat at the front. I had only just closed the door when he began to drive out of the airport. He was typically Italian and started hurtling along the motorway. He pointed out of the window telling me about Vesuvius which frightened me because he wasn't even looking at the road. He came off the motorway and swerved from lane to lane dodging traffic.

We were driving through an area of dilapidated buildings and I could see they were once very beautiful but had since been left to ruin. Time had aged the buildings horribly and neglect allowed it to happen. Although there was a certain charm about the place, the buildings looked forlorn. I looked into the distance and saw glass buildings and spires reaching up in the middle of the city and I thought to myself about the chances of stopping in a hotel there. They rose above the rest of the city and sparkled in the sunshine. I felt like Dorothy from the wizard of Oz travelling to Emerald City.

I expected the city to improve whilst getting closer but instead it got gradually worse. The rubble from buildings not only increased in size but there was far more in quantity too. Graffiti had begun to plaster buildings and walls as if the buildings were an  empty canvas. Large industrial bins were placed into car parking spaces and all sorts of waste overflowed out of the bins spilling onto the streets. People sat on half broken chairs outside shops whilst waiting for customers and they all shared the same numb expression. A sense of dread began to sweep over me and I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

We approached the glass buildings and spires and the shock became visible on my face. We slowed down as we approached the hotel and I was almost afraid to get out. The hotel resided on the plaza where all the glass buildings were but the entrance was on some old industrial back street where most of the units were reduced to piles of rubble and there were lots of dark nooks and crannies.