A girl went back to Napoli

Rosemary Clooney sang in Mambo Italiano, "A girl went back to Napoli, because she missed the scenery..." It's not exactly why I went back, and if you ask my mother-in-law, the scenery isn't what it used to be. Today Naples, Italy looks as if it is held together by wire and crumbling plaster. Wire clotheslines are strung from balconies as far as the eye can see. Television antennas poke into the skyline from every which way.

Five hours up the road, and our first long car trip crowded with 3 car seats and tre bambini, we made the journey to the American Consulate in Naples for one Report of Consular Birth Abroad, one new passport, and three renewals of passports. Worse than a thousand are-we-there-yets from the backseat, was the speculating on how far we were from "the volcano" and if it would be safe to stay nearby Mount Vesuvius. With that came a thousand questions on what "dormant" really means, as I was happy to lecture on the status of that particular volcano... until I got home and googled it to find, I quote, "Mt. Vesuvius is still active today. It is the only active volcano on the European mainland. Its last eruption happened in 1944. The danger is that over 2 million people live near Vesuvius and may be in danger. I think that the reason that they still live there is fertile soil."

Lemons from Zia's garden

Whoops. Guess I was wrong. Maybe I wouldn't have slept so well knowing that bit of info, but I guess that fertile soil is what makes the fruits and veggies so tasty.

My husband has family in the big city so we were able to plan to stay relatively comfortably for a few nights. Ha, comfortable. We would be staying in an older building. The kind that as soon as you hit the door you are invaded with the oppressive smell of mildew, at least on the ground floor. It is an apartment building that was built by my husbands grandfather, who was a builder like my own father. The building has lots of layers. For instance, a basement that I have never dared venture into, a rooftop terrace spackled with old Christmas decorations, a back garden that you must enter from a kitchen window and then scale down a rickety wooden staircase to the patio.

A few years ago, I would have shuttered at the idea of having to put the family to sleep in the same room... a hot, un-air conditioned room, furnished in the 1960's, worrying over if silly kids would ever settle and sleep. I've learned to adapt and, this trip, I found comfort in hearing all of life's sounds out our open window as we slept together, like emigrants crowded into a ship's cabin. I could hear children playing into the night and families watching the soccer game. In Naples, it seems as though everyone, including pet birds, cats, and dogs, lives outside on their balconies in the summer. I have also noticed that they can grow almost anything in pots and containers to make their own balcony gardens. Plus, I guess it is easy to get kids to fall asleep, after all, if you have an Italian aunt who keeps the kids up until midnight, feeding them lemon sorbet.

The morning we went to the American Consulate, I expected an hour appointment and had been advised online to not bring in too many things, as there would be a security check before we entered. The hour appointment took four hours of waiting and I found myself with nothing to entertain the kiddos. Not a problem. My kids have learned how to make friends fast from their early exposure to Italian preschool and they soon found a boy only a year or two older then themselves to play with. I had also expected to find a waiting room full of American families, but that was not the case. I am guessing that foreigners must apply for a visa before they take an American vacation, so, the boy my kids found to play with was probably from a South American country, I am guessing. The boy must have attended Italian schools because he knew the same sort of kid-games that my kids know, like a game called Uno, Due, Tre Stella! which is like Red-Light, Green-Light. I was happy the kids were playing, although some of the games were getting kinda loud. I ushered the kids away from the waiting people to a corner along the far wall of the stark, office-like room. On the wall I had noticed three nicely framed photos of the President, Vice-President, and Secretary of State. Hmm, I noticed the similarity in my kids' new playmate and the President. Same coloring. Same hair. I could tell he was a smart kid because he kept quizzing my 5 year old on various things. I wasn't surprised, then, when he looked up and asked my daughter if she knew who the guy in the first picture was. I, too, had thought about giving her a social studies lesson and had tried to point out the same thing. She must not have paid attention because her answer was, "your dad." Well, guess if we had been there for a citizenship test, we would have failed. Good thing that in proving I had lived in the US for at least five consecutive years, and I am married to my husband, they just give my kids their citizenship and passports. Well, with that and for about $400 for all we were getting done this particular day.

I'm glad that we got to spend time with the family in Naples. Over the years, most have moved away, as Naples isn't what it used to be. Maybe that is why my great-great grandparents left Naples to immigrate to America. Maybe they foresaw the city changing into a beast of traffic and dirty streets, and guessed there was more land in rural America to grow fresh fruits and veggies, volcanic soil or not. Who knew, I would return someday, and be claiming my kids American in a city that is a complete contrast to what my American life was in the suburbs in Oklahoma. Convenient, predictable, organized, quiet. However, what the city lacks in asthetic appeal, it makes up in character and big-hearted people, I guess that makes it a little like Oklahoma, after all.

The Long Goodbye

Italians can't just say goodbye and go. When you are saying farewell after a meal together, you must first decide if you will partake in an after dinner coffee. The tiny espressos usually take longer to get to the table than the meal did, as the waiters get busy with the diners that arrive at the Italian dinner hour, usually as we are finishing and ready for coffee. We, for the most part, arrive just as the restaurants are opening around 7, or more likely 8 in our neck of the woods. So, over coffee, you prepare to say your parting words. Without a doubt you are at the end of your meal. You stand to say goodbye, but chat a little more. Walk to the door, say your adieus, but prattle on. Again at the car, a ciao, but you collect your final words. Finally, a kiss on both cheeks. I think almost two hours can pass, just saying goodbye the Italian way.  I guess that's why saying our final goodbyes to our neighbors has stretched into a few weeks of nights out, and days at the beach together. We have been so busy I can find my way to blurt on Facebook a few moments, but not to blabber on my blog. One activity has stretched out to meet the next. We grown-ups are as bad as our kids, asking for one more minute. No one ever wants the fun to end.

If you are friend or family, you know that we are a military family. I am quite used to the possibility of the call to move always being around the next cobble stoned corner. I keep an uncluttered life, ready at a moments notice. We, ourselves have moved 4 times in the past 7 years, the last time almost 2 years ago. In the past 2 years here, our kids have grown from tattling toddlers to socially mature preschoolers. Their inner circle of friends quite a thing to behold. Their Italian language skills have blossomed, I realize, as I remember following them around in the beginning as their personal translator. I was worried as they were approaching an age where kids begin to play together and not just next to one another, that they would be left out to play only with each other, speaking English.

Time has told a different story. We live in military housing now, on top of, and all around our friends, in rows of apartments. We can see them as they come and go. We wave from our balcony as we hang out our wash; airing the dirty laundry not a worry amongst friends. They are my substitute family; home away from home. They have wiped my kids' noses, dried their tears, and received fistfuls of weedy flowers from them as well. They celebrated the announcement of last years pregnancy and saw me through to the delivery. They have  helped out by driving my other kiddos to school, and loving on the new baby, doting on her, passing her around, rocking her to sleep. From birthday parties to holidays, life deep in the boot heel of Italy is a little less like Lost and a little more like a combo of Modern Family and My Big, Fat Greek Wedding, with the good friends that we have.

Leaving is one thing if you have an adventure waiting ahead of you. But, being left behind is lonely. Over the course of this summer, 4 families will leave us to embark on their own new ventures. Tomorrow we will say, "Antio", goodbye in Greek, to our inspirational Greek friends. This is a family with 3 kids, large by Italian standards who usually stop after 1 or 2 kids, that arrived not knowing the language. They bravely enrolled their 2nd grader and preschooler into school within their first weeks being here in Italy. They arrived with a newborn and had to find a pediatrician and schedule vaccines and check-ups, with the help of a Greek-Italian dictionary. I remember how difficult it was in the beginning watching the kids stare blankly at each other and resort to making animal sounds as they played with plastic beach animals. Evi, the mom of the family, and I have a special bond as being the only moms in all of Italy and Greece that don't believe our kids, 6 amongst us, will catch a cold by actually getting cold.

They came, they saw, they conquered, and they did it all with the most brilliantly positive attitude. Even as their tour here in Italy has been cut short by a misadventure, they have remained optimisticly calm. In knowing these friends, we have been given the opportunity to be good neighbors and help them with little challenges along the way. Knowing people like that, even for a little while, is worth the conversation being cut short. Knowing people like that turns the nonsensical chatter of life into an epic novel.

All of our stories will carry on, but instead of chatting over ice cream cones or prattling over a pizza, we will email and Facebook.We have swapped Greek, American, and Italian recipes, over conversations about the etymology of Greek, American, and Italian words.  There are no words in any of the languages for how much they will be missed, but I think my kids' dollhouse that they have emptied of its tiny furniture, with the toy moving-container semi-truck parked in front tells me what they see. In fact, it speaks volumes. They see an empty apartment, and a sea of silence between them and their friends. I hope someday we will meet again, perhaps next time in Greece where we can say our long Italian goodbyes over Greek coffee and Baklava.