The sport continues...happy spring!

An update on I Love You More than Maradona...

I started this Substack to dig into the rich history of Naples, Italy, alongside the book I’m writing called Christmas in Naples is a Sport.

Keeping this newsletter up proved to be a challenge; I couldn’t translate the books I got about the history of Naples, I couldn’t share my story yet, and I’m on the road. I’m trying to extend my visa in Turkey; I can land somewhere and move more freely between Naples and Istanbul—there are worse fates!

I took the photograph below from Naples Airport on my way to Istanbul in March. Christmas doesn’t really end here. The sport goes year-round. And yes, “My Way” by Frank Sinatra is a Christmas anthem which the poster below demonstrates: this is my idea of Christmas. That’s the vibe. It’s sassy, sure. We sing it more than once.

I wanted to highlight Neapolitan history, which I’ll still do, but I’m changing my approach and style in this newsletter; I’m on the road, and I’ve had some time to reflect on what I would like to do and bring to you—it’s just to give you heads up. Thank you for coming along on the ride with me.

Last night, I fondly watched a video of my cousins singing to me after midnight on New Year’s Eve—” OLÉ, OLÉ, OLÉ, OLÉ…” to Diego Maradona, of course. They chanted Diego Maradona into the phone as one on Piazza Plebiscito drenched in pink lights. I was staying in an old church converted into a cave in the chic neighborhood of Vomerò; I’d like to share snapshots of life and devastatingly beautiful little corners of this ancient and vibrant city.

My book is about reuniting with my relatives after a long disappearance at Christmas, but the sport does not end. I returned to Naples in the depths of winter ten years ago very much in the dark about my story. In the end, Vico recounted the myth of Hades and Persephone as a deal to be made, a pomegranate between us. Could I make the promise to return? That’s it. We ate the pomegranate seeds. That’s so Naples. And I did, every winter until finally, I reemerged in the spring and summer last year in a new place. That’s what I mean. That winter/spring myth is even weaved into my story. It’s a bit of a legend, for real.

So last summer—which is approaching—we were having dinner in Angela and Vico’s garden on the Sorrento Coast. (Discus throwing was coming up on the TV.) I know—what did we eat? My cousin Vico, Angela’s husband, has a farm that supplies all the produce we eat—during Christmas too. They broached the subject of my mother, for example, again. I think how they try to be there for me is touching. I came from a crazy family story. But by then meaning now, I learned how to better take care of myself with a greater sense of awareness. “No,” for example. “I can’t talk about that anymore” because I care now—care—I am in touch with my feelings. Given the themes in my childhood, even alcoholism, talking about my mother being at the police station every night and having to contend with their silence, not knowing what to do with the figure of my father…it’s up to me to express when I have to stop. I can do that now. I could get caught up in that silence; they want to give me space. Naples has such a scope, also, in terms of the types of stories that run through it, but then, I don’t know what that means for them. They said, “You can talk to us” in this lush and natural setting with wine from Vesuvius, and I understood that. It’s just—

I can share shorts about my cousins who continue to be there for me—no matter the season—and hopefully hear from those who are interested in this story as to what you think. Even considering how my childhood seemed to be “a foreign language” to many people; I’ll delve into that, too, since that’s a theme in my book.

So changing the direction of my newsletter at this point in the season and in my life is perfect. I’m putting together the book now. I’m reflecting on the past, what I’ve learned, and where I am now. I’ll be sharing excerpts from my book as well as shorts and essays that take place in the city, too. This newsletter is going to be less focused on history or Naples generally, let’s say, but I’ll include some fun stories. I want to introduce you to the cast of characters—my cousins—and take you through the spaces in my book. Angela’s house is nestled in a garden on the cliffs of the Sorrento Coast: she is the sea. Her sister Flora is the shore…you’ll see how home becomes enchanted and theatrical. I’ll be at a beach club working on a scene in a scene; it’s a party.

Yesterday, Emma sent me videos. There were fires in Piazza Plebiscito with nonstop honking. Flags were being waved. Fireworks were exploding. Napoli won their first title since Diego Maradona did in 1990 this weekend. The city just keeps on embracing me: “Don’t give up.” Perfect timing. Check out the photos in the article in The Guardian that I linked. I love Naples. I don’t know the full calendar of events, but there always seems to be an eruption of some kind. I’ll try to update you about the celebrations and sports-related activities throughout the year. I’m not in Naples right now but am planning to go go go once I get settled in Turkey, and I have a place to stay for more than three months…so I might throw out some ideas at you: where would you like to go? In the meantime, I have plenty to share. I hope you’ll smile and laugh. I want you to get hungry, engrossed in my story, and discover Naples.

I’m cooking up my plan for Christmas ahead of time. I really want to do it justice, because it’s truly funny, and fun, and the food is traditional, delicious, endless. I’ll share recipes too; I’ve got old cookbooks. Angela said she’d teach me how to cook a little since I don’t know how to. Flora taught me how to make lentils and green olives, but truly, I’m clueless in the kitchen which deeply deeply concerns Franco on the Feast of Santa Lucia to be saved by Vico who fires a song through the wall: “let me see Maria!” I asked him what my name translated to in Neapolitan and he started singing me songs, and they did, they sang to me all season long—they poured music into me. They quite literally brought music back into my life. That’s Naples, too.

People are actually walking around with Intersport bags, which is a store, with branding that reads: “we sport. and you?” This is Christmas in Naples: giant snowmen on the TV at the prosciutto place in Sorrento with cheerleaders as the camera sweeps around the coaches: it’s a soccer match. A mountain biker takes a seat in real life at this restaurant. We’re eating “light” on December third by ordering another round. A handsome, fit Neapolitan poses in his chic black sweats under a canopy of Christmas lights. A band in traditional costume follows a band leader down the streets. It’s December third. Then, on the fifth—Sorrento has a marathon track set-up with a sign: runners are beautiful. Diego Maradona's biographies are lining up in the window of the bookstore. The ribbons of rhythmic gymnasts are flying on the TV screen in Pompeii: it’s time for pizza. Naples as it exists as a sport is hilariously and heartwarmingly true. And all sports are included: year-round.

Happy Spring, almost summer, to you…to ends and new beginnings…and figuring it out one step at a time. As it was written on a box of panettone on Christmas Eve also known as Fish: “Whatever you do in this life, put your heart in it,” and that’s what it’s all about. I can’t wait to move forward with this newsletter now that I have a better idea of what I’d like to do with it. Thank you once again for reading—and you’ll be hearing from me soon.

I love you more than Maradona,

Maria