Day 6. 'Zaville.

We took a train down south to Naples for one reason and one reason alone: To visit the birthplace of 'za and to see if it really lived upto the hype.

Naturally, great conquests like this came at a price. Naples has a reputation for being a bit dodgy. We were warned often during our days in Italy, and sure enough, as soon as we stepped off the train we felt like a thousand leering eyes were making us walking targets. We found the hostel relatively easily. But it occurred to us rather soon that this was a much different city...

Trash everywhere. Everyone screaming. Bıkes whizzing by. No regard for calm and no hope to ward off confusion. As we were leaving the hostel, the dude warned lady luck not to bring her purse...As if it wouldn't even be worth it...It's bound to be snatched. So with the bare minimum of possessions we set out to find Da Michele, much regarded as the best 'za in all of Italy.

5 minutes later and we were in a lıneup and confused as all hell. A dude would come out with a ticket, give you one if you needed one and then call out random numbers. There was no line or anything, just a mass of people.

We stood around for half an hour, unsure of what the hell was actually happening. Folks were also coming out with takeout...Which line were we in? Damn. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Finally lady luck stepped upto the plate and went into investigate. It was a goddamn mad house in there. But we were told that we could get a takeout order in 15 minutes.

And 15 minutes later, we were standing next to the ovens, watching them toss 'zas in and out of the fire. Fire ovens. The only way to go.

We took our piping hot, greasy 'za out to the street with our bottles of beer. We ate like savages. And it was that good. I could have turned around and got right back on a train and had a good opinion of Naples.

But instead we pressed on, looking for a place to happen. Turns out Naples isn't kind to walkers. It's not an easy city to navigate and we found ourselves just becoming a small piece of the big frenzy.

Our stop for dinner was at Pizzeria Brandi, where Pızza Margherita was born. (And some argue the birthplace of 'za itself) We booked a table and we were the first ones in there for the dinner slot. Classy joint. And damn good 'za. Really. And there was some dude behind us who couldn't speak above a grumble. Very Italian, but we couldn't stop from laughing. Anyway. Well worth it. And check out that video for some authentic Italian-ness.

I'm torn as to whether or not I'd go back to Naples. I know I missed out on some other delicious 'za. Really. That really pained me. But it's too damn gooey. Eating more just bungs you up to the point of no return.

But the city ain't too charming. So I guess I'll have to think about it. Hunger though, that's a strong arm to wrestle. Damn it was good. And damn, I've got a lot to learn about cooking them 'zas.

"The apogee of pizza"





Friendly pizzialo's. Some might call them mentors.

After this, you can understand why I was chagrined about going back to Turkey and kebaps.