In 1786, German polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was so taken by his trip to Campania that he came up with his now-famous phrase – Vedi Napoli e poi muori (See Naples and die). While Goethe was alluding to Naples’ significance as a late-18th century hub of culture, his saying needs an amendment for 2025.

See Naples and die (while you’re visiting Naples) may be an appropriate update. That’s because pedestrians, as I quickly discovered, are subordinate to the blizzard of cars and vespas that dominate the streets from morning to night. They whip and weave, make crazy u-turns, drive-when-they-should-stop, and honk horns like no other horns have ever been honked, to create a truly disorientating state of audiovisual anxiety.

Zebra crossings—nominally created for the safe passage of walkers from one bit of a street to another—are gauntlets in Naples: never venture out and the cars will never stop; venture out and the cars might stop. This dynamic creates lots of near misses, raising hair on the arms and cortisol levels in the brain.

Even fixed crossings, with their timers and green men, offer no guarantees of safety. Treating the whole thing as an inconvenience rather than an imperative, motorists zoom through crossings when they should be stopped.

Still, if you worried about the (genuinely terrifying) traffic situation, you’d never leave the hotel to explore the abundance of treats Naples has to offer.

Italy’s charming basement

If Italy’s northern cities are palatial showrooms, then Naples—tucked below the famous economic north/south Italian divide—is the basement: unvarnished, lived-in, homely.

On our first day, we braved a swirl of vespas and the sharp, winding climb to the top of the city. It was worth the hassle. On a cloudless day, the panorama took in the dome-dominated city below, the coastline bending around the middle ground, and the silhouette of Mount Vesuvius looming in the background.

Religion

Back down in the city’s cobbled streets, two things quickly become apparent: Mopeds can squeeze through impossible gaps, and the veneration of god is everywhere. Yes, Diego Maradona—who arrived in the city in 1984 as the world’s most expensive football player and led Napoli SC to two Serie A titles in 1987 and 1990—is inescapable: he’s a giant painting on the side of a wall; he’s an even bigger photograph on a downtown building; he’s a plastic miniature beside dozens of other plastic miniatures on stalls across the city; he’s a bar mat, a candle, a t shirt, an apron, a tote bag, and, as of 2020, an entire football stadium. In short, he’s inescapable.

In the affections of Neapolitans, Diego jostles for space alongside Jesus, Mary, and a cadre of Catholic saints - all of whom are equally well-represented. Grottos—replete with idols and pictures and garlands of flowers—pop up on street corners as a place for locals to pray and offer propitiations. Chapels abound. Although the exact number is hard to pin down, the città delle cinquecento cupole (city with five hundred cupolas) has, as the name suggests, around 500 domes - although the true number might be double that. While many chapels are extant, lots are extinct.

Food

Pizza

Naples is the birthplace of the margherita pizza. Depending on which legend you believe, Raffaele Esposito first combined mozzarella, tomato sauce, and basil leaves as a pizza topping to honour Queen Margherita, or, to celebrate the reunification of Italy in the late 19th Century.

Unlike almost everywhere else, the pizza in Naples comes unsliced. The locals prefer to tackle it with the knife and fork provided, but that felt wrong to me. After a bit of hatcheting, I was able to guide the (asymmetrical) slices down the gullet.

Dad didn’t like L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele’s version, describing it as ‘too wet’. I disagreed. To my mind it was both well-charred and appropriately chewy (and very good value for money at just 6 euro per pizza).

Pasta

Artichokes, meatballs. Trattoria da Nennella.

Acting on the advice of my Italian brother-in-law, we headed to Trattoria da Nennella for some local fare. By 12.10pm, a mere ten minutes after opening, the place was packed. We were ushered to a seat beside some Neapolitans, one of whom mirrored my BIL’s recommendations.

So, first to arrive was pasta e patate (pasta and potatoes). Next up, two meatballs, coated in a simple tomato sauce. A side dish of artichokes completed the meal.

Everything was delicious. The pasta landed midway between a soup and a stew and was creamy goodness from the first spoonful. The meatballs were well-formed and flavoursome, neither swimming in, nor deprived of, the rich tomato sauce. Artichokes—a darling of Italians north and south—joined some potatoes on an unpretentious plate of pure delight.

Throw in a bottle of acqua frizzante, charge 15 euro for the lot, and—as the crowd inside and the queue outside would attest—you’ve got yourself a winning formula.

Pastries

If pizza and pasta is the obvious food to sample in Naples, then its pastries are a surprising treat. Sfogliatella, native to the region, is a seashell of sweetened pastry filled with ricotta cheese, and a hint of warming cinnamon. I was expecting a sweeter filling, although the crunchy and creamy textures combined well enough to warrant a thumbs up.

Cannolis, born in Sicily, are the real stars of the show. Sitting at the counter in one of the many cafes that line the narrow streets, I combined four of these sweet, crunchy pastries with strong, expertly-made coffee and temporarily left earth.

Cuoppo

But the best was yet to come. A cuoppo is a Neapolitan street food made from a paper cone stuffed with fried vegetables. Or, in my case, a paper cone stuffed with fried seafood. Squid, cod, prawns, and whole anchovies get the light tempura treatment, thrown into the fryer, and packed into paper - freshly made to order. The result is incredible. The just-there batter means all the flavours of the seafood come through individually.

By the end of the cone, however, the whole anchovies have broken down into a sludge of fishy, battery goodness that round off an excellent street food invention. It was easily the best thing I ate in Naples.

Is Goethe right?

Can you see Napoli and die?

Well, the second part is assured no matter what you do. However, Goethe’s praise for Naples is warranted and it’s well worth seeing, even for the food alone. If you do decide to visit, just remember to pack an extra set of eyes and watch your step. Beep beep.

Vedi Napoli e poi muori (See Naples and die)