The people here are so insanely psyched to be from Naples, and why shouldn't they be? This is a city that gave the world pizza and ice cream. The Neapolitan women in particular are such a gang of tough-voiced, loud-mouthed, generous, nosy dames, all bossy and annoyed and right up in your face and just trying to friggin' help you for chrissake, you dope—why they gotta do everything around here? The accent in Naples is like a friendly cuff on the ear. It's like walking through a city of short-order cooks, everybody hollering at the same time. They still have their own dialect here, and an ever-changing liquid dictionary of local slang, but somehow I find that the Neapolitans are the easiest people for me to understand in Italy. Why? Because they want you to understand, damn it. They talk loud and emphatically, and if you can't understand what they're actually saying out of their mouths, you can usually pick up the inference from the gesture. Like that punk little grammar-school girl on the back of her older cousin's motorbike, who flipped me the finger and a charming smile as she drove by, just to make me understand, "Hey, no hard feelings, lady. But I'm only seven, and I can already tell you're a complete moron, but that's cool—I think you're halfway OK despite yourself and I kinda like your dumb-ass face. We both know you would love to be me, but sorry—you can't. Anyhow, here's my middle finger, enjoy your stay in Naples, and ciao!"
这里的人对自己的那不勒斯出身大感兴奋，这也难怪。这城市把比萨饼和冰淇淋给了全世界。那不勒斯的女人尤其是一群粗声粗气、满嘴粗话、落落大方、好管闲事的女士，一副专横、气恼的架子，看在上帝的面子上，拼命要帮你这白痴的忙。那不勒斯口音就像友善的耳铐。就像走在快餐厨子的城市中，大家在同一时刻大喊大叫。他们这儿仍有自己的方言，还有千变万化的当地俚语，但不知怎么的，我发现那不勒斯人对我而言是我在意大利最容易了解的人。原因为何？因为他们就是他妈的要你了解！他们说话大声，语气强烈，假使不了解他们嘴里讲出来的话，通常也能从他们的手势推断三分。比方那名坐在表哥摩托车后座的文法学校庞克小姑娘，从我身边呼啸而过的时候，朝我比手指，露出迷人的笑容，只为了让我明了：“别埋怨吧，女士。我才七岁呢，但我已经可以告诉你，你是大傻瓜，不过这很酷——我想你还算可以，我也还算喜欢你的土包子脸。我们俩都知道你很想换作我，可是抱歉——你没有办法。反正，瞧瞧我的中指吧，希望你在那不勒斯玩得愉快，再会啦！”
As in every public space in Italy, there are always boys, teenagers and grown men playing soccer, but here in Naples there's something extra, too. For instance, today I found kids—I mean, a group of eight-year-old boys—who had gathered up some old chicken crates to create makeshift chairs and a table, and they were playing poker in the piazza with such intensity I feared one of them might get shot.
就像在意大利所有的公共场所，始终看得见男孩、青少年、成年男子踢足球，而那不勒斯却还有另外的娱乐。比方今天我看见孩子们——我是说，一群八岁男孩——收集几个旧鸡笼，充当桌椅，在广场上玩扑克牌，其专注程度使我害怕他们有人会中弹身亡。
Giovanni and Dario, my Tandem Exchange twins, are originally from Naples. I cannot picture it. I cannot imagine shy, studious, sympathetic Giovanni as a young boy amongst this—and I don't use the word lightly—mob. But he is Neapolitan, no question about it, because before I left Rome he gave me the name of a pizzeria in Naples that I had to try, because, Giovanni informed me, it sold the best pizza in Naples. I found this a wildly exciting prospect, given that the best pizza in Italy is from Naples, and the best pizza in the world is from Italy, which means that this pizzeria must offer . . . I'm almost too superstitious to say it . . . the best pizza in the world? Giovanni passed along the name of the place with such seriousness and intensity, I almost felt I was being inducted into a secret society. He pressed the address into the palm of my hand and said, in gravest confidence, "Please go to this pizzeria. Order the margherita pizza with double mozzarella. If you do not eat this pizza when you are in Naples, please lie to me later and tell me that you did."
我的串连交流双胞胎乔凡尼和达里奥出身于那不勒斯。这完全无法想象。我无法想象害羞、勤奋、和善的乔凡尼，在少年时代属于这个——我用这词儿可一点也不夸张——匪帮。但他确实是那不勒斯人，因为在我离开罗马前，他给了我那不勒斯一家比萨饼店的名字，要我非去尝尝不可。乔凡尼告知我，因为这家店卖的比萨饼在那不勒斯无出其右。这使我十二万分期待，鉴于意大利最好的比萨饼来自那不勒斯，而全世界最好的比萨饼来自意大利，这意味着这家比萨饼店肯定提供……我几乎迷信得说不出来……“全世界最好的比萨饼？”乔凡尼递店名给我时，态度严肃热烈，我几乎觉得自己正闯进一个秘密会社。他把住址塞入我手中，悄悄地说：“请去这家比萨饼店。点玛格丽特比萨加双份起司。如果你去那不勒斯没吃这种比萨，请骗我说你去吃了。”
So Sofie and I have come to Pizzeria da Michele, and these pies we have just ordered—one for each of us—are making us lose our minds. I love my pizza so much, in fact, that I have come to believe in my delirium that my pizza might actually love me, in return. I am having a relationship with this pizza, almost an affair. Meanwhile, Sofie is practically in tears over hers, she's having a metaphysical crisis about it, she's begging me, "Why do they even bother trying to make pizza in Stockholm? Why do we even bother eating food at all in Stockholm?"
于是苏菲和我来到米凯尔比萨店我们刚刚点的一人一份的饼，使我们为之疯狂。事实上，我对这份比萨饼的爱使我热昏了头，我相信我的比萨饼也回敬了我的爱。我和这份比萨建立了关系，几乎是一场恋情。同时，苏菲简直吃得“涕泗纵横”，发生某种形而上的危机，她频频向我探问“斯德哥尔摩干嘛还费心做比萨？我们在斯德哥尔摩干嘛费心吃东西？”
