April 12, 2007
Italy: Day 1
Okay, this trip isn't off to a good start at all. Let's begin at the beginning, shall we?
We'll start with the flight. Getting from Atlanta to Philadelphia was pretty uneventful, however Philadelphia to Rome was a whole different ballgame. First the plane was late coming in, so we had to wait a bit longer before boarding. Then once we boarded we got to sit in line behind 30 planes waiting for takeoff. This tacked on a whopping two hours to my already late flight. On top of all of that, the empower port on my seat (as well as those around me) was non-operational so I couldn't use my MacBook without killing the battery. The flight itself, once we were actually in the air, was fine. I had penne with sauce for dinner although several passengers were not happy because they ran out of penne shortly after I got mine, and all they got to eat was barbecue beef. The on-board entertainment system also crashed a few times forcing it to be rebooted at least twice.
And then there's Rome. I landed around 9 in the morning Rome time (that's 3am for you folks in Eastern), and got off the plane wondering where the hell I needed to go to find my bags. My initial flight (and the flight through which my bag was checked) was a Delta flight, however my actual flight to Rome was via US Airways. Landing in Rome and looking at the various displays, I was not seeing anything that matched with either of my flights. A single flight from Atlanta was listed for carousel 3, but while it was a Delta flight, the number did not match mine. I made my way to the Passenger Service counter where I asked the guy where my bag was. I gave him my flight number and bag tag, and he told me my bag would be making its way around carousel 8, despite NOTHING indicating this would be the case. Magnifico!
Luckily, my bag eventually showed itself and I grabbed it and started making my
way to the exit, since I figured transportation would be readily available
there. Needing cash, I stopped at an ATM and decided to pull €300 which I
figured would be sufficient to get me by for a while. Unfortunately, the ATM was
having none of it and spit my card back out. 
Bank
of America's security features just kicked in. This problem would resurface
later in the day. In any case, I got to a currency exchange counter and got a
€100 cash advance, then went for the exits where I bought a train ticket
and headed down to Naples.
After a bit of confusion with regard to which train and which seat was mine, I finally got to Naples. On my way out of the station, a shady character approached me and asked me if I needed a taxi, and while I did, I decided to say no. He started to take my bag and I said no again, and he backed off and walked away. A little further down the way another guy approached me and asked me if I needed a taxi. Considering I was accosted as I walked out of the Rome airport terminal by a woman asking if I needed to purchase an international calling card, I figured this was the way people solicited service here. So this time I said yes.
In retrospect, I'm not entirely sure he was a real licensed taxi driver despite
his photo and license, rate sheet, and business card which reads simply "TAXI
DRIVER, ANTONIO, NAPLES" followed by other miscellaneous business ventures
Antonio seems to get himself into. 
Antonio barely understood English, and despite my best, repeated
efforts at telling him that I only had €55 on me (the remainder of the
€100 after buying a train ticket from Rome to Naples), all he could say
was "EH YOU KNOW BENDITO IT'S-A NO PROBLEM, EH? HA HA HA, YOU KNOW ANTONIO MONEY
NO PROBLEM." It became a slight problem once I arrived at the hotel though. His
price went from the initial quote of €20, to €50 when he realized
the actual distance, and then up to €70 upon arrival after getting stuck
in traffic. I gave him my €55 and said that's all the money I had. He
looked heartbroken, and I had to open every compartment in my wallet to convince
him that I was telling the truth. So in the end the taxi ride cost me €55
plus the $4 USD I had in my wallet, as Antonio decided that would cover the
difference. Whatever.
Ahh, Hotel Kursaal. To its credit, it's not a bad place at all. Unfortunately, it's pretty well off the beaten path serviced by a single bus. Upon checking in at the hotel, my total available liquid assets amounted to €1 since I had that left over in coin form in my pocket from the initial cash advance. I told the clerk I needed to find a place to buy an international calling card, and then find an ATM. He gave me a map and told me where to go and how to get there. I took the map, and then boarded the bus and rode to the stop closest to the Bagnoli metro rail station. I then spent the entirety of my on-hand cash in the form of the one Euro, and I took that train seven stops east to Piazza Cavour where I got off in an effort to accomplish my two specific goals. Since I had no cash, I had to have access to an ATM. Since my account was locked out, I needed to call Bank of America. Since I had no cash, I needed a calling card to be able to call them. Thus, mission one was to purchase a calling card. I used my credit card to get one more cash advance of €100, and went to a store to buy a calling card. I bought one for €60 (which I figured would last me the entire trip) and promptly headed for a payphone to find that I had no idea how to use the damn thing. I went back to the store and was told "oh no, you can't do that" and he gave me my money back. I asked the guy where I could purchase a card that would suit my needs, and he pointed me to a shop down the block. I went down to that shop, spent €5 on a calling card, and brought it to a payphone. Of course, none of the customer service numbers for my bank that I tried to call would connect. So over the course of the next hour, I would end up spending $60 repeatedly calling Bank of America customer service and repeatedly getting disconnected, since the sole number I had for BoA that worked was for the credit card division, and the automated system for checking to which I was transferred refused over and over to connect me to an operator. The last time I called I begged with the credit card operator to not hang up, and they promised to remain on the line until an actual person picked up. We got through that time and I finally got my account unlocked.
I then made my way to another ATM, withdrew the remainder of the cash I needed, bought my very first slice of genuine Neapolitan pizza (which turned out extremely disappointing as it was pulled from a display case and microwaved), then started heading back to the Hotel. I took the train back to Bagnoli station, then walked to the bus stop where I was originally left off, and I waited. And waited. And then waited some more. Then finally a bus appeared, but passed right by. A short time later another bus appeared but passed by as well. It was 8pm at this point and waiting around before the first bus appeared I was ready to just start walking back to the hotel. After the second bus drove by, I went ahead and started walking. About 50 feet into it, the real bus showed itself and stopped at the stop. I boarded and rode it to the last stop, which is when I discovered that apparently bus number 5 is not the same as bus number 5, so after getting off bus number 5 I had to stand and wait at this new stop for bus number 5. I got off the bus, looked at the map, found I was further away from my hotel than when I started, and then looked at the schedule to find that this next bus wasn't due for another 55 minutes.
It was at this point that I discovered that Italians like to get very close to you when they talk, as a kid who got off the bus at the same time as me insisted on trying to converse with me despite the fact that he knew as much English as I know Italian. (This amounts to about two words total, by the way.) I could tell he was getting both amused and frustrated at both of us being unable to understand one another, but dear lord he was inches from my face when talking. Every time I backed away he just came forward again. From my observations this seems to be Italian SOP, but god is it uncomfortable. Finally, he said "hello!" and left for the metro station. Standing on a dark back-street in Naples waiting for a bus wasn't really appealing to me, so I walked down the street where I experienced something good for the day: Gelato! Good lord that stuff is fucking delicious. I got the coffee flavored variety, and it was awesome.
After enjoying my gelato I did some people watching with some high school/college aged Neopolitan kids hanging around the same block, then I headed back to the bus stop where no less than two busses stopped and left or passed by before the real one showed itself at 8:55. I then got on the bus and rode it right to the end where I got out, entered my hotel, got to my room with the intentions of getting out of the clothes I'd been wearing for the flight in and my first day, and settling in with a nice cold bottle of water. Except the minibar fridge is busted so everything in it is warm. The front desk had to bring me a bottle of water.
Which brings me to now, thus ending my first day in Italy. Downsides? Plenty. Upsides? I ate gelato, Italian women are gorgeous, and one of them is in my hotel.
(17:30)
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