On the way back from Pompeii darkness had descended upon us and the walk from the train station in Naples to the hotel took on a slightly more sinister spin.
The days rain had washed the sidewalks clear of most of the filth and grime that usually be-speckled them in the manner of a Jackson Pollock painting. The air was think and humid, and fugged with the chunky smells of Naples; the sea, car exhaust, hot bread, decomposition (of many-many things), old fish and new rubber, occasionally just a hint of burnt hair/plastic/tin.
Halfway up the Corso Umberto I we found a dumpster on fire. The odd thing about it was the simple fact that people were trying to ignore it, like one tries to ignore a screaming child on an airplane. Finally a gentleman (I use the term loosely) very casually sauntered out of his store with a bucket of water and poured it in the dumpster. When this failed to put out the fire he walked back into his store with a look of complete disinterest.
Eventually we moved on. the next day we found the burnt out dumpster and the charred tree above it looking rather sad.
As they say, when you tire of Naples you can get shanked by the docks.
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