The city is baffling when you arrive—there are of course countless gray alleyways, somehow jumbled together into a whole, and facing the fact that hardly anything works as it’s supposed to. And yet, as the Japanese say about dried squid, it tends to grow on you the more you chew it, increasingly revealing its flavor until you’re completely charmed and sad to leave—or even convinced you should just move there instead.
Naples is full of surprises, and my recent trip there was no exception. The moment I got into the taxi I had reserved to take me from the airport, I was immediately besieged by a quintessential Neapolitan experience. The taxi driver had a good-natured face, with Christian crosses hanging all around his tiny Fiat. We exchanged ordinary greetings and some idle chat, when he suddenly asked out of the blue, “What religion do you believe in?”
After a brief silence while I tried to figure out what he was talking about, my Japanese friend and I looked at each other before hesitantly stammering out something about believing in Shinto. For the next 30 minutes of the cab ride, he thoroughly lectured us on how we wouldn’t be saved by God because we didn’t believe in Christianity.
He then announced that we had arrived at our destination, upon which we tumbled out of the cab and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe because the conversation had gotten so heavy on the way, we didn’t even notice that we had escaped the gray Milanese weather to be enveloped by the beautiful blue skies of Naples. We were blinded by dazzling sunshine that hardly felt like autumn, and I turned my palms up to let the delightful temperature soak into my body. When we looked at the entrance to our bed and breakfast, we saw a sign that said, “Platform 2.”
Ah, that’s right! I had thought before we left that the person at work who had arranged our lodging had picked a place with an interesting name.
But when we looked over the rest of the building, it certainly looked like a train station more than a place to stay… and people were crossing back and forth beside me as I stood still, as if they were trying to avoid bumping into me… I guess the name of the place was Platform 2 because it was directly above the second platform at the train station.
Wait… were we supposed to sleep in the train station?!
The interior was simple and clean, just like it was in the photos I saw before we came out. I’m guessing they got rid of some offices and the stationmaster’s room when they automated the turnstiles and sold them off. After showing us around and giving us a quick explanation, the owner invited us to grab a cup of coffee at a nearby café—where a group of local guys casually joined us as if we were all old friends. It was both a lively and strange coffee break.
Japan has a lot of hotels attached to its train stations and some, like the Tokyo Station Hotel or the Hotel Granvia Kyoto, are quite fancy and luxurious. But I’d never seen anything like Platform 2, where the whole place gets loud and shakes every time a train goes by.
You’re probably thinking that I wouldn’t be able to sleep because of it, but you know what? I actually slept great.
