Life is Life

Joanna
4 hours ago
7 min read

Another thing I couldn’t believe... the entire region around Naples... and not just Naples itself but Sorrento, Amalfi... literally everywhere... is completely devoted to Diego Maradona.

At first, I was baffled.

Why were they so obsessed with this Argentinian player?

Then I did some reading and discovered that Maradona played for Napoli from 1984 to 1991. They don’t adore him. Adore actually isn't the right word. They idolize him. I'm not even kidding. They hold him in the highest regard... up there with Baby Jesus. Someone wrote to me on social media and said, "He 's our Jesus Christ, sportingly speaking," And I believe it. During this time, they won two Serie A titles in 1987 and 1990. He also won the Coppa Italia in 1987 and the UEFA Cup in 1989.

Diego was incredible... There is no doubt about it... and many debate as to whether he was the best player ever. I'm more of a Messi fan, but I can appreciate Maradona. During his time in Napoli, he took them from an underdog to a powerhouse... and to them, he became a symbol of pride, hope and rebellion. His legacy is still visible everywhere in murals, flags, chants, and shrines.

He died in 2020, but in Naples, his legend lives on. I did ask someone what happened when Maradona passed away, and he said, regardless of COVID restrictions, people poured into the streets to mourn.

“Live Is Life” by Opus is the song forever tied to Maradona. In 1989, before a UEFA Cup semifinal match in Munich, Maradona did his now-legendary warm-up routine to that song: juggling, dancing, balancing the ball to the beat, completely relaxed and joyful. It became one of the most iconic football moments ever recorded.

My time in Sorrento eventually came to an end. It was time to leave.

I was starting to get really anxious about this national strike in Italy. No one could give me a straight answer on whether my plane would be grounded. Not Expedia. Not Lufthansa. Not Air Canada. Everything I found online just told me to keep checking the flight status... not exactly the reassuring confidence I was looking for. And honestly, I was tired of refreshing that screen every few hours.

I was fairly sure the plane itself would go... but what worried me were the people on the ground... the baggage handlers, security, ground staff, flaggers… all the people who actually make the operation run smoothly. They were the ones striking, and that stressed me out. If they didn't show up for work, life could get very complicated at the Rome Airport.

I genuinely didn’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get on that flight.

Anyway, I left Sorrento and headed back to Naples. I hadn’t planned my day very well. I had to check out of my accommodation at 10 am, but my train didn’t leave until 2:30 pm. What was I thinking when I booked that?? In the end, it worked out. The sun had finally made an appearance, so I had a chance to explore some of the historical centre of Sorrento properly. The damn weather had kept me trapped all week indoors.

I tossed my luggage into storage... and wandered around (and ate & drank wine) until it was time to board my train back to Napoli.

Once I arrived, I knew exactly where I was going. My room was on the same street I’d stayed on last time... so I felt like a pro. I marched out of the central train station, straight up to a taxi, address in hand. I was confident, assertive, and fully aware of how far it was... and what it should cost.

I was wrong.

He quoted me €20.

TWENTY EURO… for a six-minute drive.

Remember last time, when the driver quoted me €15... and I finally got him down to € 15 by insisting he turn the meter on? Ya... I paid €10... with a tip. Well, this guy was absolutely adamant he would not turn his meter on... and I was just as adamant that I would not pay €20 for what was essentially a short trip up the road. I hate feeling ripped off... and I hate being bamboozled for simply being a tourist.

It was not exactly the conversation I wanted to have. It was raining... again... and even though it was only a 22-minute walk, I was absolutely not in the mood. The rain was killing me slowly and the thought of spending another half an hour trudging through it, didn't make me happy.

But guess what?

He wouldn’t budge, and I wouldn’t budge…

So off I went, back into the wet, wet world of Naples.

Again.

By the time I finally reached the front door of my place in Naples, I was completely drenched. My clothes were soaked... my hair was dripping down my face... and even my phone was acting up because it had taken in so much water.

At this point, I wasn't even sure whether it was just the weather getting to me anymore. I think I was just frustrated... with everything.

The owner of my Naples accommodation was really kind, though. He met me at the front door and carried my pack up all the flights of stairs for me. Most accommodations here use those tiny lockboxes where you have to spin minuscule numbers to get the key. I swear, I can hardly even see the numbers half the time. Sometimes I have to take a picture and then zoom in... to make sure I've done it correctly. Don’t even get me started on trying to push the little lever down while simultaneously prying it open with my fingernail. A feat of multitasking and fingernail engineering I am simply not built for.

But I got to skip all that cuz he met me at the main door.

It wasn't a huge win... but to me, drenched to the bone, it was victorious. This place was listed as “first floor,” but let me tell you... First floor in Italy usually means “up one floor on the B staircase… then up another on the left… then down a side staircase and up a few more steps.” Without his help, I honestly don’t think I would’ve found it in that labyrinth of stairways.

Once I dried off and got myself sorted, I went out for dinner. I found a little bruschetta café and absolutely devoured a few slices with a glass of wine.

The next morning, I repeated the usual baggage routine... put my luggage into storage and then wandered around until it was time for my next train. My timing is famously terrible... checkouts and train schedules never seem to align... which is all my fault... but it did give me another chance to explore Naples.

I’ve warned myself off this city so many times, listening to everyone's horror stories and convincing myself it wasn’t for me... but with the sun finally out, I decided to give it a fair shot.

And honestly?

I didn’t mind it.

Naples is gritty, chaotic, and intriguing in ways that surprise you. Or, at least, me.

Considering I was in Maradona’s kingdom, I figured I should pay homage. So I looked up "Maradona" on Google Maps… and off I went, weaving through the city, following the little blue dot to all the murals, shrines and tributes. Maradona was everywhere you looked. Everything you can imagine, everything was plastered with his face. Socks, magnets, T-shirts, flags...

They even have a Maradona spritz. You know you’ve reached legendary status when you have a cocktail named after you.

After my unofficial Maradona pilgrimage through the historic centre, I grabbed my luggage and headed back to the station to catch my train to Rome. It was just under three hours, and when I arrived, I did what seemed logical at 8 pm... I went straight to the taxi stand.

My place was a 7-minute drive away from the airport.

Guess how much they quoted me???

€40.

FORTY EURO for a seven-minute drive.

€40.

Absolute blasphemy.

SEVEN MINUTES.

There was no way I was paying that, so I started walking. I'm such a martyr. For €40, damn straight, I am. About half an hour in, the route took me along a sketchy stretch of highway... and it was darker than dark... so I deked into a little gas station and ordered an Uber. Because I was far enough from the airport, I didn’t get hit with the insane extra fees, and it arrived in two minutes... and took me straight to my accommodation.

I’m still not sure why I even bothered booking a hotel near the airport, considering my flight was at 6:55 am. I should've just slept at the airport. I've done it before. I had to reserve an Uber for 3 am. I'd been warned to arrive early because of the strike... and I honestly didn’t know how much earlier I could get there unless I slept on the floor of the terminal.

Having a bed and a shower seemed like the better choice.

My Uber arrived right on time... thank God... and I made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Security had one person working, but I made it through without any difficulties... even though I was packin' a corkscrew!

Weapon...

So now that I'm on my way, I'll make my list of what I learned in Italy...

I love Sicilian arancini.... Italian (non-Sicilian) arancini, not so much.
I'm tired of the rain... but can't complain, as it's November. I should know better.
Wine and Aperol spritzes are wonderfully cheap... if you buy at the grocery store and NOT at a tourist shop!
I learned that Italy isn’t just a place... It’s something that happens to you, whether you’re ready or not.
I learned that beauty and chaos live side by side here, and maybe that’s the charm of it all. Like: good and bad, lonely and social, sunshine and rain, delicious arancini and terrible arancini.
I learned that not even a constant downpour can wash away the magic of this country... though it certainly tries.
I learned that in Italy, food is a love language, music is everywhere, and history isn’t just something in museums... It’s in the streets, the buildings, the people.
I learned that Italy tests you and rewards you in equal measure.
I learned that I can be soaked, tired, lost, frustrated… and somehow still completely enchanted. And also, thoroughly annoyed.

I learned that I’m ready to go home. Solo travel can be tough... empowering at times... but tough. And Italy can test you and reward you in equal measure.

I also learned that my patience is dwindling.

Maybe it’s my age.

Maybe it was the rain.

Anyway...

Mostly I learned that I still LOVE Italy 💚🤍❤️

Ciao bella… until next time.