Naples, softly chaotic
48 hours of sweetness, questions and the weight of being a guest
So… writing this guide feels a little different this time.
Maybe because I’m the kind of person who side-eyes overtourism while living in a country that’s basically made of wonders. Trust me: when the cost of living climbs, when historic botteghe (small local shops) turn into themed boutiques, when the city center feels more like a stage set than a neighborhood… it gets complicated.
And it becomes even more obvious that we need a middle ground that works for both visitors and the people who actually live there.
Meanwhile, when I travel, I try truly to be mindful of my own impact. I gravitate toward lesser-known places (and for some mysterious reason, they often get “discovered” right after I leave… Marrakech, I’m looking at you). When I go to the classics, I try to do it in shoulder season.
I pay attention to where my money goes: local hotels, local guides, local restaurants, even local supermarkets. I read up on customs. I try to be a respectful guest.
But I’m not perfect. None of us are.
And here’s the thing: in September, The Telegraph published a love letter about how dreamy a weekend in Naples is. Fast-forward less than three months and the same paper is ringing the alarm about the city center becoming a kind of Disney set. In Italy, everyone is talking about it. And if you walk through the centro storico right now - especially around the famous nativity workshops - you’ll see what they mean. It’s packed.
And yet… I promised I’d share everything I did during my 48 hours in Naples. Some things are inevitably touristy. Others exist because my Neapolitan friends are angels walking this earth. Am I part of the problem? Probably, yes.
Should I avoid talking about Naples at all? I don’t think so.
My hope is that you’ll use this guide with intention. That it becomes a starting point rather than a finish line. Context matters because the more we understand a place, the better travelers (and guests) we become.
And it’s also worth remembering that travel is a privilege. A rewarding, perspective-shifting, once-in-a-lifetime kind of privilege.
Okay. Rant over. Let’s get into it.
WHERE I STAYED
(the part we don’t glamorize)
We stayed in a place that… I honestly don’t want to mention.
A middle-aged lady, a very large dog, and décor that can only be described as “baroque grand-aunt energy.” It wasn’t bad - just not us.
If you want to stay outside the heavy-touristed areas, you’ll quickly notice there aren’t many hotels. In Vomero, for example, you’ll mostly find B&Bs. The only place I saved for future trips is Bonito29 – Temporary Suite - clean lines, quiet charm, no surprise chandeliers shaped like angels.
DAY 1 - Letting the city come to you
first impressions, first pastries
We arrived after lunch from Milan with that mix of travel excitement and work-week tiredness buzzing under the skin.
After dropping our bags, we walked toward Via San Biagio dei Librai, letting our steps choose the direction. Naples is not a city you “plan.” It’s a city you surrender to.
Dinner was at Antica Pizzeria Vesi, a place that feels like it has lived through generations of families, arguments, first dates, reconciliations. The pizza came steaming hot, the beer was really cold. There’s no better welcome.
Dessert happened at Leopoldo. My first poppella - soft, sweet, cloud-like - and then a coda di aragosta so crunchy it silenced us mid-sentence.
Later, wandering toward Piazza Bellini for a drink, we stumbled upon a full dance crew performing in the street. Music bouncing off the walls, people clapping, students cheering - and just like that, we were swept into a moment that didn’t belong to us, but held us anyway.
Naples does that. It gives you scenes you didn’t know you needed.
DAY 2 - Following the rhythm of Spaccanapoli
the murals, the markets, the miles
We woke up thinking we’d take it slow. Naples had other plans.
Breakfast at Greco, a forno full of locals grabbing pastries. If you’re picky about coffee, Ventimetriquadri will charm you - the flat white was honestly a moment.
Then we followed Spaccanapoli, the long straight line that slices the city open like a story. On either side: clothes hanging from balconies, voices echoing, the Duomo, the peaceful Chiostro di Santa Chiara, and the promise of the Cristo Velato at Cappella San Severo (which we didn’t see because we forgot to book - learn from me).
At Via Pignasecca, the market pulled us in. Vendors shouting, fresh fish shining on ice, the smell of frying always close by.
We ate pizza fritta while looking for murals, laughed about turning this into a pastry crawl, and kept adding to the list: more poppelle, pastiera, sfogliatelle, a caprese cake…
By the time the concert arrived (remember last week’s newsletter), my watch had given up counting steps after 30,000. I didn’t blame it.
Day 3 — One last look at the sea
pasta alle vongole included
We woke up exhausted. But there was only one thing left to do: find the sea.
Naples is a city of contradictions, but the Lungomare Carocciolo ties them together.
We walked from Piazza Plebiscito to Via Partenope, the sky opening above us, Vesuvio resting in the distance.
The breeze smelled faintly of salt. Living in Milan, the sea feels like a dream. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.
We chose a random restaurant overlooking the water and ordered pasta alle vongole - simple, shiny with oil, full of flavor. The kind of dish that makes you wonder why we ever complicate anything.
And yes - before getting on the train back home, I had one last poppella. A farewell kiss from Naples.
Notes (or the things I’d tell you over coffee)
If you can, give Naples more time. This is not a city you check off - it’s a place you metabolize slowly. Go find the murals. Spend time in Villa Floridiana. Explore the underground world beneath the city. Take a superstition-themed tour. Let the city surprise you.
And please, wear comfortable shoes.
About safety: use common sense. Stay where there are people. Keep your bag close.
Be aware at night. Naples isn’t dangerous - it’s alive. Stay present.
Mostly, remember this: you are a guest. And being a guest is both a privilege and a responsibility. Carry that gently.
Places I promised not to share (but… here we are)
Chalet Ciro - For every sweet craving that whispers to you before or after breakfast.
Di Matteo - One of the best pizza fritta moments you’ll find.
Il Re del Mare - Simple, unpretentious seafood that tastes like the sea. It’s tiny.
Friggitoria Vomero - Come here for a proper cuoppo, a paper cone filled with fried goodness. The edible equivalent of a warm hug in a crowded street.
Supermarket souvenir - Provola affumicata. Smoky, soft, perfect. The best goodbye gift from Naples.
See you next Monday, halfway packed.
And as always, thank you for reading, for being here, for showing up, for letting these little stories keep you company.
It means more than you know.