Page 9 of Marcello

I used Google Maps on my iPhone to search for cheap hotels.

I considered youth hostels for a second, but decided against it. I didn’t want to sleep in a room with a bunch of strangers in bunk beds. If my laptop got stolen, I’d be screwed.

Yeah, TOTALLY screwed. It’s not like you got forced by the mafia to leave your family and move to a completely different city to infiltrate a bunch of rival gangsters or anything.

I finally settled on a hotel that was only 50 euros a night. The reviews said it was ‘relatively clean’ and ‘relatively safe.’

‘Relatively’ would have to do.

Unfortunately, it was a mile and a half away.

I didn’t want to waste my limited cash on a taxi, so I hoofed it instead.

As I walked, I realized I’d been wrong about Naples. There was plenty of old stuff – it just wasn’t near Garibaldi Station, that was all.

I passed narrow cobblestone alleys. Old buildings with crumbling exteriors loomed on either side of me. Every now and then, I saw a faded mural – of the Virgin Mary or a saint – that looked like it was hundreds of years old.

The more touristy areas were brightly decorated, with strands of colored lights crisscrossing the streets. Even though it was March, it looked like Christmas.

Other buildings had clotheslines strung between them with banners hanging down. Some of the banners had mottos like 4Ever Napoli. Others had pictures of football stars who played for SSC Napoli – Società Sportiva Calcio Napoli, or Football Sports Club Napoli. Soccer fans simply called them ‘Napoli.’

I didn’t know much about Naples, but I knew they were crazy about football. Napoli had one of the most fanatical followings in all of Italy.

If I hadn’t known that before, I would have figured it out from all the paintings of Maradona.

Diego Maradona was an Argentinian who played for Napoli from 1984-1991. Widely considered to be one of the all-time greats, he led Naples to its first league championship in ’87, then again in ’90. While he played for them, Napoli also won the 1987 Coppa Italia, the 1990 Supercoppa Italiana, and the 1989 UEFA Cup – their only European trophy.

What Michael Jordan is to Chicago, Maradona is to Naples.

And in a city where football is a religion, Maradona was God.

That was reflected in the pizza shops I passed. Almost every single one had framed photographs of him over the counter, and at least a dozen had giant paintings of Maradona with a halo over his head, just like Jesus or the Virgin Mary.

There were dozens more paintings of Maradona out in the street – but they weren’t as eye-catching, because they were surrounded by the most street art I’d ever seen in my life. There was still plenty of graffiti and gang signs, but there were also hundreds of brightly colored paintings done with incredible artistry.

Lots of politically themed pictures, like a black-and-white mural of men behind iron bars.

There was a 20-foot-tall image of a woman’s face with a hand tilting her chin up…

Cartoon images with anti-corporate slogans, like a masked figure punching Ronald McDonald…

And mermaids. Lots and lots of mermaids.

Some looked like pretty pictures out of storybooks –

And others looked like tattooed rocker chicks.

There were also thousands of papers plastered to the stone walls with a combination of artwork and slogans.

Hands off my body!

Make love not war!

Fuck fascism!

At least, I think that’s what they said.

Some of the posters were in Italian…