Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 27

           Atripped-out,dangerousandcheerfulnuthouse.MyfriendWadecametoNaplesinthe1970sandwasmugged…inamuseum.Thecityisalldecoratedwiththelaundrythathangsfromeverywindowanddanglesacrosseverystreet;everybody’sfresh-washedundershirtsandbrassieresflappinginthewindlikeTibetanprayerflags.ThereisnotastreetinNaplesinwhichsometoughlittlekidinshortsandmismatchedsocksisnotscreamingupfromthesidewalktosomeothertoughlittlekidonarooftopnearby.Noristhereabuildinginthistownthatdoesn’thaveatleastonecrookedoldwomanseatedatherwindow,peeringsuspiciouslydownattheactivitybelow.

           ThepeopleherearesoinsanelypsychedtobefromNaples,andwhyshouldn’ttheybe?Thisisacitythatgavetheworldpizzaandicecream.TheNeapolitanwomeninparticulararesuchagangoftough-voiced,loud-mouthed,generous,nosydames,allbossyandannoyedandrightupinyourfaceandjusttryingtofriggin’helpyouforchrissake,youdope-whytheygottadoeverythingaroundhere?TheaccentinNaplesislikeafriendlycuffontheear.It’slikewalkingthroughacityofshort-ordercooks,everybodyholleringatthesametime.Theystillhavetheirowndialecthere,andanever-changingliquiddictionaryoflocalslang,butsomehowIfindthattheNeapolitansaretheeasiestpeopleformetounderstandinItaly.Why?Becausetheywantyoutounderstand,damnit.Theytalkloudandemphatically,andifyoucan’tunderstandwhatthey’reactuallysayingoutoftheirmouths,youcanusuallypickuptheinferencefromthegesture.

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