If your dream is to be
sipping a cappuccino with Anthony Bourdain at a sun drenched cafe on the Almifi
Coast of Italy, then I lived your dream and much, much more.
My son Tom Vitale was
the producer for the Naples/Amifi show and, for my birthday present, he arranged
to bring me along on the shoot. (He is, of course, the greatest son in the
world and now you know why.)
The trip began with an
overnight flight from New York with Tom, the cameramen Zack and Mo, the segment
producer Josh and Joe, the father of Zack who came along as the guest of his
equally terrific son. We were met in Naples by our fixers Lucio and Emanuella (‘fixers’
are the local Neapolitans who arrange locations and translate Italian to
English, etc, and our driver Massimo. Later we met Rossario who was to be Tony's
driver.
Let me begin by
stating an annoying Neapolitan principle: nothing ever goes according to plan.
This is followed by the second Neapolitan principal, one that is magical and
was amazingly consistent: when a plan falls through, the new, hastily arranged
substitute plan is always better.
The first day in
Naples was billed as a travel rest day, but Tom went off with the fixers to
survey locations and Zack and Mo spent 4 hours getting their 5 cameras ready (one
of which would fall prey to the third Neapolitan principle, which I won't go
into now).
I spent the afternoon
walking through the Centro Storico (historical center) and falling in love with
the narrow stone paved streets crowded with shops, people, speeding scooters
and small cars fighting their way through. Flying proudly from every balcony
was the national flag of Naples: laundry. On many street corners was the
national tragedy of Naples: a mountain of uncollected garbage.
I took some narrow
stepped passages, down dark alleys where I passed by open doors. Just a few
feet away families were seated at kitchen tables, drinking coffee and chatting.
It was strange to be so close, almost in their private lives. The clanging of
pots and the smell of their dinner was too intimate. I felt I didn’t belong. One
path got smaller and smaller, as I headed deeper into a strange world. Two men were walking behind me. Was I going
to experience first hand the tough sinister Naples I had heard about? It was
becoming clear that this path was not like the others that had eventually
emptied onto a street. Soon, I found myself at a dead end. I held my breath. I
turned around to face them just as they turned into a doorway. I was relieved
and quickly made my way to a more populated area.
Later, I met Tom back
at Hotel Romeo. We had a drink in the lobby and then headed to Buongustaio on
Via Basillio Puoti off Piazza Carità, a small trattoria
with delicious food. It would be the location of the last shoot with Tony seven
days hence, the evening that Tony introduced me to Negroni.
The next morning Emanuella
guided us to a religious procession. It was billed as procession with a hundred
people to be witnessed by crowds lining the streets. We found a sorry band of
15 or so barefoot young people carrying ancient banners and playing trumpets
and drums. The procession was very charming and moved quickly through the
streets. Zack and Mo followed it like commandos darting around cars and through
alleys stealing shots of the procession and of Tony who followed for a while. Tony
had a microphone on him, which recorded his musings. That’s the wonderful thing
about having a great writer as the host of the show. Everything he says is
golden. The challenge is to keep him interested and stimulated. He is not a
puppet you can turn on and off. If he ain’t having fun, nobody is.
The morning shoot was
successful but the afternoon shoot was still evolving. The idea had been to
take Tony to a wedding with the hope of seeing some Neapolitan gaudy
extravagance. Lucio thought he had a wedding for us, but it fell through. He
went on the radio to try to recruit a wedding. Ultimately, the owner of the
driving service, Frederico, found a couple who would let us film their wedding
for a hefty wedding present.
At around noon we were
waiting outside the church, cameras ready, getting to know the family, when a
long white limo pulled up. Out stepped a petite bride in a satin gown. I saw
her from the back at first and saw nothing unusual. It was when she turned in
profile that I saw she was probably eight and a half months pregnant. I would
love to have had access to Tony’s microphone then. I am sure he had some
interesting things to say
An hour later the
couple emerged from the church, cannons fired confetti, doves were released and
we had another good scene in the can.
At one o'clock, Lucio,
ever on his cell phone, announced that he had arranged a typical Neapolitan
meal in someone's house for the next day. Sounded good. Later in the afternoon
the meal had fallen through due to the lady's headache. While the team was
trying to figure out how to replace the scene, Rossario, the driver, said,
"Why don't you come to my house. My mother is a great cook." Before
going to the wedding reception to meet Tony, Tom went to see Rosario's mother.
At the top of four floor walk up, in a modest apartment Tom met Josepina, a
fiesty 80 year old, chain smoking grandmother with died black hair.
"Perfect," Tom said, "Tony will love her." And he was
right.
Tom raced from the
apartment to meet Tony at the wedding reception in a distant suburb. (Joe and I
weren't invited and took the opportunity to go to the National Museum of Naples
and saw great frescos and mosaics from Pompei.)
Late that evening Tom
came home very drunk. Apparently Tony was bored being at a wedding reception
with people he didn't know who spoke a language he didn't understand. For sport
he drug Tom into the scene and made him drink copious amounts of wine. When
Tony complained that invading stranger's lives made him uncomfortable, Tom
quipped, "but that's exactly what you do all the time."
The next morning we
met at Scaturchio on Piazza San Domenico Maggiore. Scaturchio is a
pasticceria/stand-up coffee bar with the most highly touted sfogliatelle in the
city. Sfoligliatelle is a pastry made with crispy layers of dough stuffed with
ricotta and other good stuff. It was a classy place with golden brown freshly baked
pastries. The owner treated us like kings, offering us cappuccinos and anything
off the pastry shelf. I only had a few minutes to feel king-like before I left
with Mo and Emanuella for the bakery factory that was a five minute walk.
Joe and I had become
part of the crew, which was exactly what I wanted. However, we had to walk a
fine line between being useful goffers and staying out of the way. It was
tricky as scenes began without warning. One minute we were sitting around and
the next minute the cameras were rolling and the scene was on. This crew was
finally tuned and knew the routine so well it only took a nod to start a scene.
At the factory we were
in search of sfogliatelle dough, layers rolled so thin you could see a hand
through it. That was according to Michael White, famed New York Italian food
chef and friend to Tony. Many of the scenes and restaurants on the schedule had
been suggestions of Michael White. As it turned out that the factory no longer
rolled their sfogliatelle dough, but got it pre rolled and layered from another
factory. That explanation didn’t cut it for Moe. He had been sent to shoot thin
dough and that’s what he expected. So, the owner found an old timer who knew
how to roll thin dough and Moe got his shot.
Next the crew put a
microphone on Tony, gave him a sfoliatella and with two cameras buzzed around
him like bees. It was interesting to watch. Tony strolled the streets as if he
was a tourist on holiday and the cameramen along with Tom ran, one ahead, one
behind, dodging in and out of corners, picking foreground action and then
quickly panning to Tony, running up steps to get an overhead shot, the other
camera sensing and staying out of the shot. Tony was actually being a traveler. Helping
the crew get their shots was the last thing on his mind. Zack complained that
they asked Tony to walk a little slower. Tony said OK and then resumed his
breakneck stride.
So Tony munches on his
sfogliatelle, tours the shops and comments on it all. I couldn't hear what Tony
was saying, but he was doing what he does so brilliantly: talk about the food,
about the shops, about the people, about the culture and about life in general.
After the sfogliatella
scene, Tony was driven back to the hotel and the crew moved to Josepina's
apartment near Piazza San Lorenzo Maggiore. Joe and I helped carry equipment up
the four flights. Eighty-year-old Josepina climbs stairs but saves trips by standing
on her balcony and throwing down a bucket tied with string to collect things
like cigarettes or a bottle of wine from a delivery boy.
When the all the
equipment was up, Joe and I were dismissed for a while and we went on a tour of
Napoli Sottoterra, Naples Underground. 170 feet under the old city are 12 miles
of aqueducts that supplied the ancient city with water. Long abandoned as an aqueduct during World War
II, it served as an air raid shelter during the bombing of Naples.
We returned to
Josepina’s when the scene was finished. We sat around her dining room table and
were told how she had invited Tony into her small kitchen to cook the pasta and
how the crew had trouble keeping 6’3” Tony and 4’8” Josepina in the shot. The
crew was served pasta covered with delicious tomato sauce that she had cooked
for 6 hours. Tony was in a good mood and stayed while we ate. He told us these
were the tastes he enjoyed the most, simple basic food well prepared
The next morning we
packed up some clothes and headed for the Alalfi Coast. On route the plan was
to stop at Pappacarbone in Cava De Terrini. It was a small stylish, chic
restaurant. The owner, chef, Rocco Innaone was small in stature and one of the
most energetic people I have ever met. He served us hor d’oeuveres and Bruno De
Conciliis served us some Donnaluna red and Donnaluna white from his vineyard in
Campania. Bruno and Tony talked about the attributes of Donnaluna which was produced
with little or no preservative. The theory they were discussing was that no
preservatives equals no hang over, even if a lot of wine is drunk. All the
while Rocco darted in and out of the kitchen talking a mile a minute.
Eventually Tony, Rocco, Bruno, Tom, Zack and Mo headed into the kitchen for
cooking, eating and shooting video. Joe and I and the restaurant staff sipped
wine, snacked and waited expectantly for a couple of hours like fathers waiting
for a baby to be born. “Is it going OK?” we are thinking. “Does Tony like the
food?” “Is he enjoying himself?” “Are the cameras working?” Eventually, they
emerged from the kitchen smiling and laughing. I interpreted their mood as an
indication of another good scene successfully delivered and in the can.
We were treated to a
meal of pasta and clams and more good wine.
Afterwards, we headed
to the tiny fishing village on the sea, Cetara. Rocco was going to put on his
wet suit and fins and dive for sea urchins. When we arrived it was pouring
rain. Joe and I held up umbrellas at the back of the van while the crew
prepared the cameras. Tom asked Rocco if he wanted to go ahead. Rocco was full
of enthusiasm. The rain lightened for a few minutes and it looked like the
shoot would be going forward. The cameras were ready. Then it started pouring
again. Tony was ready to call it a day. Rocco was still up for it. Tom made the
difficult decision to head to the jetties and give it a shot. When they got
there, the rain stopped and didn’t start again.
Rocco dove in to the
churning water and came up again and again with prickly sea urchins. Waves
splashed on the jetties creating good TV atmosphere. Rocco climbed up on the
rocks and sat with Tony. The split open some sea urchins and ate them on the
rocks, waves crashing and gray scudding clouds behind. Nice TV.
Later, when Rocco was
changed and about to leave he admitted that diving in rough seas as he did was
dangerous. Such is the lure of being on American TV is a scene with the famous
Anthony Bourdain.
After the cameras were
packed up, we drove to Salerno and checked into Lloyds Baia, a hotel on a cliff
over looking the industrial port of Salerno. It was the first hotel I have ever
been in where the ground floor is the top floor and you take the elevator down
to get to the rooms.
We headed out for
dinner, Massimo driving the van with Tom, Zack, Mo, Josh, Emanuella, Lucio and
me. We were throwing around ideas of where to go when someone suggested Il
Convento, the restaurant in Cetara owned by Pasquale where we'd be filming with
Tony the next day. Lucio called and they were open. Ten minutes later Pasquale
greeted us at the door with a big welcome. We had no idea what we were in for.
He sat at the head of
the table and began the dinner with a le
sabrage, that is, by nipping of the head of a bottle of prosecco with a scatola,
a special knife that cleanly cracks the glass so that the cork with the glass
around it goes flying across the room. As he poured my wine, I studied the top
of the bottle. The glass had indeed been cleanly severed.
Pasquale presided at
the head of the table while we ate and ate. We began with an appetizer plate of
oil soaked anchovies, smoked tuna and octopus. Then, when he spotted someone
not fond of seafood, he brought out three kinds of prosciutto and two kinds of
cheese. He sliced off big chunks and passed them around the table. Then came
the sea urchin. It was cut in half and inside a star shaped pattern of orange
roe. Then came a plate of three fried balls, all different but all with
anchovies. The one drenched in tomato sauce was spectacular. Oh, and did I
mention that after he lopped off the head of the second bottle of prosecco, he
carefully considered the dinner wine. When he came to a decision he dispatched
his headwaiter to the cellar for a case of something special.
The waiter opened the
first bottle of red the old fashioned way: with a corkscrew. The wine was
great, hearty and smooth. I had a few sips before the next dish came, chunks of
tuna sprinkled over a bed of cherry tomatoes halves drenched in oil.
Then came the calamari
dish and finally Speghetti con colatura di alici, spaghetti and anchovies. It
was a spectacular three-hour meal that left us reeling. Pasquale complained
that his wife was overbearing but admitted that he needed a stern hand. None of
us doubted it. He knew little English but broke out often in Janis Joplin,
"O Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz, my friend all have Porsches,
...." the next line is " I must make amends" but he only hummed
it. I am guess that 'amends' was too much a stretch for his English vocabulary.
Or, maybe he found the repentance concept repugnant?
We drove to our hotel
in Salerno in a splendid stuffed stupor.
The next day we drove
back to Cetara to follow Pasquale. He began with the fishermen. It was late
morning, their catch was in and they were tending their nets. Pasquale jumped
on their boats, told jokes and slapped them on their backs.
Then he moved to the
narrow shop lined street that led up from the beach. The shops, with their
colorful fruits, vegetables and meats, were out of some art director’s idea of
what a picturesque Mediterranean should look like. It was a romantically
beautiful scene that Pasquale bounded through, buying the provisions for his
restaurant. He greeted people loudly with big hugs and expressive arms painting
pictures in the air. He hugged his friends and joked with the shop owners and,
as usual, it was the old Italian woman who was the most uninhibited and most
fun.
The crew finished the
street scene and prepared their equipment for the lunch scene with Tony. Tony
arrived and Pasquale greeted him warmly. He sat Tony down in the out door poach
and poured him wine and put some very interesting looking shrimp in front of
him. Tony invited me to have one. It was a taste and texture of shrimp that I
had never experienced before. I can't say that I liked it. It was only later
that I discovered that it was very good shrimp, but raw.
After the lunch scene
with Pasquale, we went down to the seaside to do some b-roll of Tony sipping a
drink and talking about his impressions of Naples and the coast. I couldn't hear
what he was saying, but I did hear Tom pushing him to say more. Tony turned and
addressed Tom. He used an orange as a metaphor, saying that when you first
squeeze an orange you get sweet juice, but if you squeeze it too much you get
bitterness. Tom was undeterred and gently pushed Tony some more. (As a producer
you can never have too much material.) Tony responded by pulling Tom into the
scene and interviewing him about what it takes to be a producer of a top television
show, asking if Tom had any advice to give young NYU students. It was funny but
Tom is not comfortable on camera and wisely knows that the show is about Tony,
so he tried to get out of the shot. However, Tony pulled him back in, at one point
putting his arm around Tom to keep him from escaping. The joke ran its course
quickly. Tony let go of Tom and went back to sipping his drink and watching the
Adriatic in fading light. It looked pretty from where I sat and will likely be
great video.
That evening everyone
was exhausted, so we decided to go to a local pizza place and get to bed early
in advance of an early call the next day. We had beer and pizza by the meter.
(we were a two meter crew.)
Josh went out to get
cigarettes from a machine on the street outside. He put money in and the
machine was about to give up some Marlboros but there was one more step. The
machine wanted to see some ID. Josh came back to the table bewildered. Emanulla
came to the rescue with her ID. She also smoked but like many Italians, she
rolled her own cigarettes.
The next day the crew
was to film Tony driving along the Almafi coast. In line with the show's sense
of humor they got a tiny Smart Car for Tony and he crammed his 6 foot 2 body
into it. Joe and I and some others got into the van, Tony in his Smart Car and
the camera crew in a truck with special rigging to capture Tony navigating the
tiny, winding cliffs of the Almfi coast.
We, in the van,
arrived at the town of Amalfi two hours ahead of the crew. It was a beautiful town,
though swamped with tourists. We got a few tables at an outdoor café in the
center of town overlooking the beach. It was very sunny but a little too chilly
for swimming.
When Tony arrived with
the crew it was time for lunch and a little wine. I was at a table with Tony
and Joe. Tony ate his lunch glued to his iPhone. Throughout the shoot during
down times he constantly text, twittered and emailed. He took a break from his
iPhone and we chatted. He talked freely about his life, its ups and downs, his
parents, his wife and child. I found him to be exactly who he is on TV,
gracious, considerate but with an edge upon which you do not want to be
impaled.
After lunch we drove
back to Cava to attend a circolo, a kind of men’s club where they play cards,
eat salami and drink red wine. Tony was escorted into the circolo by his new
friends, Rocco and Pasquale. I waited outside with my new friend Rosario. Rosario
was nice to me. I loved it when we walked across the courtyard arm in arm in
the way of Italian male friends.
We were seated on a
bench, I working on my Italian conversation, when we saw Tony, Rocco &
Pasquale burst out of the door of the circolo and rush toward the center of
town. Three cameras followed, buzzing around them, racing to keep ahead. Apparently,
Tony quickly bored of the circolo and Rocco and Pasquale had in mind something
that would entertain him. I, the concerned father wanting his son’s show to be
a success, judged that this unexpected and spontaneous happening to be good TV.
How can you go wrong with enthusiasm the likes of Rocco and Pasquale?
After the scene we
drove back to Naples anticipating a good night’s rest and a late call the next
day. The call stayed the same but, as it turned out, the night was still young.
We ate at a restaurant
close to the hotel. At the table next to us was an Italian film crew who were
shooting a documentary on architecture. After dinner it was either go to bed or
go to meet Emanulla at one of the many bars on Piazza Bellini. We chose the
bars and had a few beers waiting for Emanulla who, as it turned out, stayed
home to get some rest. Zack came with us and fell asleep at the table.
After a liter of beer,
Josh told us a story about when he was driving across country with a friend.
They were 4 hours from Salt Lake City when Josh decided to call someone he knew
there. The Salt Lake City friend was glad to hear from Josh and invited him to
a keg party he was having that evening. Josh and his companion drove as fast as
they could, stopping only to buy a case of beer for the party.
When he got to the
friend’s house he found a bunch of guys standing around eating from small
plates. It turned out that it was a “cake” party. The story had an urban legend
sound to it and Josh offered to call his friend up on the spot to corroborate.
That sounded like fun and we got our iPhones ready to video Josh’s side of the
conversation. The friend’s answering machine picked up so all we got was Josh
leaving a criptic We decided it would be fun to drunkenly challenge Josh’s
veracity and demanded he call his friend to corroborate the story. The friend
didn’t answer but we all documented Josh’s side of the conversation with our
phone video recording.
Back at the hotel some
Zack and Joe went to their room but a few of us gluttons headed for the bar. The
kitchen was about to close, but they got club sandwiches for us. The bar staff
seemed overwhelmed with us, except for Angelo who told us he spend a year at
Disney World and an intimate relationship with Minnie Mouse. We liked that.
Moe got inspires and
ordered a round of $100 a shot cognacs. Then someone else ordered another round
of the same. Then Josh’s friend returned his call. We got all the iPhone
cameras running and documented that keg/cake story was actually true. It wsa
suggested that the video might be something for the No Reservations blog, but
that idea was quickly nixed. I was exhausted and headed for our room. Tom came
up a half hour later.
The next day, Tony’s
last day on the shoot, was more eventful that anyone wanted. We had an eleven
o’clock call and drove to Pizzaria Pellone on Via Nazionale, one of the best
pizzaria’s in Naples. The crew took the usual two hours to set up cameras and
to put up lighting in the restaurant. Outside on the street I watch people line
up at this pizza hot spot to get margarita pizza, folded pizza and fried pizza.
A big crowd stood around talking and eating their lunch. It would have been
impossible for us to know that there was someone in that crowd watching us,
waiting for their chance.
After the shooting of
Tony inside eating the house specialty pizza, Rosario drove him to the hotel
and the rest of us sat down to eat.
At Pellone they cooked
the pizza in a wood fired oven. The outer crust was scorched and a little bitter. But the inner part was fantastic.
It was Margarita Pizza with pools of tomato sauce and little plateaus of
mozzarella. It was juicy and sweet, the best pizza I’ve ever had.
After lunch, I sat in
the van while the crew packed in the equipment. I noticed that people on the crew
starting looking a alarmed. “Where’s camera four?” I heard someone ask. I heard
it over and over again, “Camera four, camera four, camera four.” I got out of
the van and kicked a tire out of anger and frustration. A camera had been stolen
and probably with it half the footage from the scene. Bad news. With only half
the footage the scene would not be as good. It turned out that much of my fear
and depression was unwarranted. It was not one of the cameras used that day and
no footage was lost.
So, Naples, the
pickpocket capitol of the world had scored a $7000 camera.
It was in the van ride
to the next location that I saw Tom, my son, at his best. I had been admiring
his producing skills all along. He was patient even when it took hours to
prepare to shoot a scene or eat lunch. He was very patient and good humored and
joked with the crew and other production staff even when the delays were
cutting into the time he had to shoot scenes. But after the theft he was at his
best. Everyone felt very bad about loosing the camera. Everyone wondered if
they could have done something, if there was something they should have done.
Everyone, especially the camera crew, wondered if it was there fault, if they
deserved some blame. But Tom laid no blame; rather he tried to buoy the crew
up, telling them that the pain of the moment would soon be forgotten. Tom is a
kind person, but also smart. He still had a day and a half to shoot and knew
that people would do better work if they felt better.
Tom dispatched Josh
and Mario to the police station to file a report for insurance and we headed
for a location on a hill where Zack could get good angles of Tony riding a
scooter through Naples. (Later Josh reported that it took forever before an police
officer saw him. Then the officer was indignant, asking Josh want in the world
did he expect him to do about the theft? When the officer became aware that
Josh only wanted documentation from him, he calmed down. “A paper, I can do,”
he said. Josh also reported that the police station had the best espresso in
town.
At the top of narrow
street overlooking Centro Storico two scooters purred, waiting for an action
cue. Around them the regular traffic of Neapolitan scooters sped by at clearly
dangerous speeds. But that wasn’t enough. If they weren’t talking to the other
person on the scooter, they were talking on their cell phone. I held my breath.
On a signal from Tom, Tony put his fire engine red scooter into gear and took
off down the hill. I would have thought they would have at least let Tony
practice driving the thing on a quiet street. Tony is, after all, a valuable
commodity and certainly an inexperienced driver on the mean streets of Naples.
But, no cocoon for Tony. He shot off like a bullet. What can you expect from a
man who flipped an ATV in Australia and walked away?
After following Tony
around the streets of Naples for an hour we moved to our last location with
Tony, Buongustaio, the trattoria off Piazza Carità. Tom sent Tony, Josh
and I to an outdoor café to have a drink and wait for the location to be lit
for the scene.
At a café on the
piazza I ordered white wine, Josh a beer and Tony a Negroni. Tony spent the
first half hour mostly on his iPhone. When he ordered his second Negroni, we
began to talk. He told us how proud he was of the Rome show. He felt it was the
best work of everyone involved, that Zack had done his best shooting and
lighting, that Tom had done his best producing, that the editor was at the top
of his game, and he felt that he, Tony, had done his best work ever and if he
never did anything as good, he would be satisfied that he had done it once. I
had heard talk of putting the Rome show up for an Emmy. I am looking forward to
seeing how it does.
I was curious about
his drink and asked him what a Negroni was. He said it was a drink invented by
an Italian Count Camillo Negroni, that was one third sweet vermouth, one third Campari
and one third gin. Tony said it could be your best friend or your worst enemy.
He said he never has more than two and proved it by switching to wine. I tried
ordered one. I like the taste and told Tony. Tony said “Ut oh! Watch out.”
Negroni, according to
Tony, embodies the Italian point of view on life, sweet and bitter combined.
Americans, he said, “want sweet, sweet,
sweet!” But, he said admiringly, Italians know that you need the bitter to
enjoy the sweet. I liked the drink a lot and exceeded Tony’s limit the next
night. On that occasion, I found it to be a very good friend.
We had been sitting
and waiting for over two hours. I was having a great time, but Tony wanted to
get the scene over. Josh was on the phone getting a report from Tom. Tony
interrupted. “Tell him you have a very impatient host.” That wasn’t enough.
“Tell him the host is getting very drunk.” “Tell him the host is slurring his
words and fighting with the waiter.” Josh smiled nervously and hung up his
phone. Tony turned sullenly back to his iPhone. It was another thirty minutes
before we were called.
Tony strode into
Buongustaio and saw a small frosted basket with some lights inside hanging over
the table. “It took you three hours to hang a light bulb?” he said
sarcastically.
The scene went well.
Our fixer Emanuella and driver Rosario sat at the table with Tony. I hung
outside feeling good that the main part of the shoot was over, feeling the warm
night air, and feeling the Negroni. The tiny restaurant was popular with hip,
young, creative Neapolitans. I chatted with a PhD musicologist candidate and
with an attractive young journalist who lived in Berlin where she reported for
Italian papers and magazines. On her face was the same soft smile that graced
Emanuella. It seemed to say they were secure in the knowledge that they are the
keepers of the generations and deserving of the attentions of men.
After the meal, Tony
came out feeling good. All the crew grouped together around Tony and the Berlin
journalist snapped a photo. And that was it. Rosario was waiting with the BMW
and Tony was gone.
Of course, Tony is
what you are really interested in, but I want to tell you about two additional
interesting things. In terms of time and space they are connected to a Bourdain
shoot.
The next day was a
B-roll day. Moe got into the BMW and headed for the coast and the rest of us
got into the van to get some sights around Naples. We needed, of course, to get
an overview of the city, some piles of garbage that decorated most street
corners and the Neapolitan national flags hanging from most balconies.
Eventually we found
ourselves back in Centro Storico getting shots of people, of faces of
Neapolitans as they leaned out the windows of their ground floor apartments,
taking in the world around them. I had never before seen people so comfortable
and unperturbed when people came up and put a camera in their faces.
We were on Via San
Biagio Dei Librai when we noticed some street players. First Tom was curious
and then he became very interested. They were a colorful lot, heavily made up
with puffy costumes. The women were played by men, who were constantly picking
up their skirts and flashing their legs. They were doing an original comic operetta
that was slapstick, bawdy and sometimes ribald. The accordion player squeezed
his box and they sang and chased each other through the crowd of on lookers. It
was great stuff and a perfect metaphor for Naples. Tom had Zack shot it twice.
He turned to me and said of his good fortune to happen upon such a good scene,
“This town is good me.”
After the second
performance we had our typical two-hour lunch and did more B-roll for the rest
of the day.
As the sun was setting
we went back to the hotel. Club sandwiches, beer and water were brought to a
conference room and we spent a couple of hours sorting through the equipment
and packing it for the flight home the next day.
When the equipment was
all packed it was time to celebrate and finally meet Emanuella and some of her
friends at Piazza Bellini. Zack, Joe and Moe declined out of exhaustion, but
Tom, Josh and I got into a cab around 11PM.
We found Emanulla and
her friends seated around a table outside. I started in on the Negronis and Tom
and Josh worked on liters of beer. I was having a great time chatting with
Margerita, a documentary producer with a house in Rome but who wanted to move
back to Naples. She had that same womanly Neapolitan smile and I felt I was in
good hands.
The evening was
already magical when three more of her friends showed to up the ante. Davide,
who had helped with the motor scooter scene earlier in the day reached into
various pockets of his jacket and pull out pieces of his flute. Another friend,
an Italian from Argentina, put his guitar on his knee and the third one, a man
with a beautiful long sad face who had the stage name of Karamazoff did the
vocals. They had been performing for money at other bars but sang for us as
friends. That is the magic of traveling as a TV crew. It opens doors and has
its privileges.
The trio serenaded us
with lively and syncopated songs about Neapolitan women. The basic gist was you
can’t live with them and you can’t live without them. They sang and we bought
drinks til the bar began shutting down and girlfriends pulled at jacket sleeves
at about 3AM.
Emanuella wanted to go
home but we shamed her into finding an after party. We walked to Piazza Dante
and found a cave bar carved out of the side of a church. There were leather
jackets, drag queens, tattoos and piercings. It was subterranean and a little
scary but I was courageous to have my fourth Negroni. I took a sip and prayed
to my patron saint Anthony B.
That bar closed up too
quickly. We said good-bye to Manuella and began to walk back to the hotel. I
had a feeling the night wasn’t over but had no real hope of extending it. But
then we passed a narrow street and heard the sound of voices. I was about to
ask Josh if he felt adventurous, but it wasn’t necessary. Josh was already half
way up the street to something, we knew not what.
One side of the small
piazza was a bar and on the other side a food stand. Apparently it was a
college area for everyone inside the bar, including the bar maids, looked like
teenagers. I had another Negroni.
Josh was really
hungry. In the food stand they grilled something that looked like salami,
cheese and white packaged bread. It wasn’t good but that didn’t stop six foot
four Josh from downing a half dozen. A man came up to Josh asking for money.
Josh insisted that he do something for the money, something like jiggling his
belly. I think it was lost in translation and the man left.
We started walking
again and Josh got on his cell phone to someone back in NY from the productions
office. It was 4:30 in Rome so it must have been around 11PM in NY. Josh
started off the conversation by telling her that he was paralyzed. But it was
OK because he was getting feeling in his legs. Then he yells excitedly into the
phone, “I’m walking, yes I am walking! I am running! I’m running through the
streets of Naples!” It was a wild, drunkin’ hysterically funny rant, but you
probably had to be there.
The last thing I
remember before arriving at the hotel was Josh taking a pose next to a statue
in the center of Piazza G. Bovio and peeing with exceptional power. I have
pictures to prove it.
