After breakfast, Irv decided to scout out the city. He dressed in his suntans, put on his cap and went one floor below to speak to the Brits, stationed below us, for advice and instructions. It was difficult understanding them. The Cockney tongue is really not English. The accent is strange. Maybe Irv’s Brooklynese was strange to them. Anyhow, he learned that there is a cobblestone walk, behind the house that leads downhill into the center of the city. That’s where all the activity is. The Galleria is on Via Roma and the railroad station is there, plus the Funicular is available, to descend into the center or bring you up to the Vomero area.
He was ready for his sight-seeing adventure. Armed with his camera and a small Italian dictionary, he proceeded down the walk , which was steep and lengthy. He descended into a busy area, with people rushing to work. A railway station was nearby and it reminded him of Grand Central Station. Upon entering the station, he saw a barber shop and decided to get a haircut and rest awhile. He was welcomed at once and the barber said “Bon Giorno” and waved him to the chair. Irv was seated and while the barber prepared him for the haircut he started talking in Italian and broken English. “Where you from?”, Irv replied. “America.” ” Si,Si” he said, “But, Donde en U.S”. Irv replied, “Brooklyn, Nueva York”. Hearing this, the barber got so excited, he almost dropped the scissors. ‘Brookleen, Brookleen, I have coozeen in Brookleen”. With this bonding connection between them, he became garrulous and friendly and treated Irv like a family member. He gave him a nice trim, brushed off his clothes, and smiled broadly, while placing a mirror behind his head to show off his work. Irv thanked him and said “Cuanto costa”. And he replied “Niente”. Irv objected, but he insisted, “Brookleen boy, no pay” And with that he escorted Irv to the door and said. “arriva derche, ciao”.
Exiting the door, Irv saw a shoe-shine setup of 3 chairs, black leather covered, with metal foot-rests and an available boy looking for business. “Great idea”, Irv thought, “I haven’t had a good shine for months”. There were three empty chairs and Irv chose to sit in the center. While the young boy was working, Irv was reading his Italian language pocket dictionary. Irv heard him say “Buon Giorno, Signorina” he looked up and saw a young lady, maybe close to 30+, he assumed, positioning herself in a chair on his right. She chatted with the boy for a short interval, probably a regular customer, Irv thought. Also very pretty and shapely..The boy returned to Irv’s shoes and the woman turned her head towards Irv and noticing the open language book asked him “Parlate Italiano?, Irv replied,:”Un Poco”, He had no idea if he spoke Italian or Spanish. But she understood and started to talk to Irv in partial English, some Spanish and of course Italian. They got along pretty well and actually taught each other , Irv saying English words and she translating in Italian and vice-versa, Irv instructing her in English. However, she was more advanced in languages than Irv and she did most of the talking. They had a pleasant meeting and when Irv’s shoes were done and he was ready to leave, she held his arm on the chair and asked that he wait until her shoes were done and that they continue talking.
Irv was a good listener and nodded understandingly while she spoke a mixture of Italian, French and English. She was on her way to work nearby, in a hotel as a hostess. She gave birth to a child a few weeks ago and left her child with her mother. Her shoes were finished and we stepped down. I asked for the charge, but she turned to the shoeshine boy and insisted that she pay. Irv said “No, please, I pay”. Bur the boy listened to her, when she spoke to him in Italian “Americano, soldat, yo pagare”, or words to that effect. After this transaction, she (Angie) offered to point out the sites if I would walk with her to the hotel.
As they exited the station, she held him gently under his arm and pointed out the sites. They walked to the end of the plaza toward her hotel on the left and indicated the entrance to the elegant Galeria stores and shops directly ahead and pointed to the Funicular entrance way over towards the right. Irv was happy to get these directions and thanked her profusely for the information. Angie smiled pleasantly and said “I happy for you”, while squeezing his arm. We arrived at the hotel, which was off the main road in a small alleyway. It was a small building and on the wall alongside of the entrance door a sign bearing the words, “British Establishment, for English Soldiers only”. When Irv saw this and saw a few Britons standing nearby observing him with Angie, he stopped and was ready to say good-bye. She said “no, no” and opened the door and pulled him in, saying “Venez avec mio” in her mixed language. “You are con mio”.
At this moment an elderly Italian woman saw us and she dashed over to confront Angie. She spoke in Italian or Napolitan the Naples dialect which northern Itaians could not understand, so surely I had no idea what the heated discussion was all about. Irv thought Angie was trying to convince her to allow me to go into her room, but the lady objected. I was not English therefore not permitted to enter. Irv understood the problem and to solve the problem, he told Angie that he was late for an appointment with his officer and needed to rush back to his quarters. Irv kissed her on the cheek, thanked her for her companionship and left. He stopped to talk to three British soldiers standing alongside the entrance and asked them “What kind of establishment is this, solely for British soldiers.” ” It’s a whorehouse, buddy, supervised by the Medics and sponsored by our Army Officers.” This was a total surprise to him and Irv wondered, while he walked to the Funicula what part Angie played in this establishment. And what would have happened if he stayed.
The walk to the Funicula was short, about ten minutes and the railcar was waiting for him. When he entered. he was reaching into his pocket to come up with a Lira to drop into the entry cache, when the conductor covered the opening with his hand and said ” American Soldat, No Pagare”. So, once again Irv got a free service. He smiled to himself, while riding uphill, A free haircut from a benevolant barber, a free shoeshine from a happy hostess and a free trip home from a courteous conductor. Not a bad start in Sunny Italy. Naples is really Bellisimo.
