Italy has always been one of my favourite countries to visit. It may be so close to home and so alike to Malta, but then again that’s exactly why I like it so much. Similar enough culturally to be a home away from home, yet different in terms of its natural environment and architectural style.

This time round, though, I found Italy almost too similar to comprehend. I’ve been thrown into an identity crisis as everything I consider Maltese and my own turns out to be not so uniquely Maltese after all. Taking over some qagħaq tal-għasel for my hosts in Palermo seemed like a good-enough idea, until it turned out that I was just giving them some more of their own daily teatime snack. The Castel dell’Ovo in Naples is scarily reminiscent of Gozo’s Cittadella and Birgu’s Fort St. Angelo. Not to mention that Naples also has its own Castel St. Elmo, which I unfortunately did not get a chance to see.

To top it all off, when the time came to leave Naples for the US, I wanted to make the most of my last chance to buy some authentic Mediterranean ingredients and prepare some ħobż biż-żejt, a traditional Maltese sandwich, for the upcoming 10-hour flight. In the end I did not have any time to shop, and had already resigned myself to enduring five months without the real thing. The next morning, though, my host’s mum offered to prepare some packed lunch for the trip which I accepted right away. Once on the plane I unpacked the multiple layers of foil and napkins, only to find – yep, ħobż biż-żejt. Just like I would have prepared it myself.

 

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Palermo itself is a great city. It’s characteristically chaotic with a large part of the centre taken up by a vibrant street market selling everything from bicycle parts to fresh fruit. Stalls fill up the winding city streets, leaving barely enough space for shoppers to walk through (yet of course ample space for motorcycles to whizz past – I’m still not sure how that worked).

My time there was limited because I was spending the night with the family of Carlo, a friend whom I met in the Swiss Alps a few years back. They live in a small town around half an hour east of Palermo, in a wonderful house with a view which I will not even attempt to describe. Carlo was still caught up finishing exams in Milan, but his family was extremely welcoming. It got interesting when I found out they do not speak a word of English, and my own Italian is limited at best. I can understand a thing here and there when speaking to someone from Florence. The Sicilian accent, on the other hand, is a thing of its own. We at least got the basics across (I think). Grazie mille for your hospitality, no cipolle, no aglio, no latte, treno domani mattina, e tutto va bene.

The second and final day in Sicily was almost entirely taken up by train rides. My next planned stopover was to be in Reggio Calabria on the Italian mainland just across the Straits of Messina. I changed trains in Milazzo in sicily on the way there to board the InterCity headed to Rome to do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do ever since I first heard of it – ride the Trenitalia train ferry. Though Sicily and Italy are only separated by 7 kilometres of sea (think of Malta-Gozo and just add on a bit), there is no other way across besides taking a ferry. Trenitalia, the national rail provider, came up with an ingenious, and as far as I know, unique, solution to the problem. Why not build special ferry boats, they said, which instead of boarding cars board trains? And that’s exactly what they did. The train arrived at the port of Messina, split into separate carriages, each was pulled onto the ferry, and we were off. No action necessary on the passenger’s part. You can even remain in the carriage and sleep through the roughly 30-minute trip if you want to, though I chose to leave the train and go up to the ferry’s top deck for the view. We reached the port town of Villa San Giovanni, docked, regrouped carriages, and continued northbound. Or at least the others did. I got down a few metres ahead in Villa San Giovanni’s station to change trains for Reggio Calabria.

Reggio Calabria did a good job at continuing the Malta parallel with its seaside promenade. I got off one station before the central one, at Lido di Reggio, and instantly felt as though I had accidentally returned to Sliema. The photos may not give the full impression, but honestly – same kiosks on the pavement, restaurants across the road, the entire city out for an evening stroll, even the occasional Surfside and Exiles below the promenade. The only difference really was seeing the lights of Sicily across the Straits.

My time in Reggio was not nearly enough to form a proper opinion of it since I had to continue onwards to Naples the next morning, but I had a great time there with my host, teacher and baker (hey Ahmed!) and the city definitely warrants a second visit.

The half-day train voyage to Naples was uneventful and surprisingly on time. I arrived, settled down with my hosts, and headed to the centre to explore the city. Thinking back, it’s amazing how much I saw in Naples and how I got a good feel for the city considering my very limited two-night stay. Couchsurfing with locals helped, of course (thanks again Antonio, Jorge and Guido!). If Palermo was great, Napoli was simply amazing. I think I might just have found a new favourite place in Italy, one which has the unplanned and chaotic charm of Palermo and at the same time the grand architecture of Rome and Milan (complete with its own Duomo and Galleria Vittorio Emanuele – though in Naples they call it Galleria Umberto I), all set in the stunning natural setting of the Gulf of Naples with Vesuvius watching over it.