Naples: Pizza, Pompeii, and Controlled Chaos

Naples will assault your senses. That's not a warning — it's a promise. Within minutes of stepping off the ship, you'll be surrounded by Vespas weaving through pedestrians, shop owners calling out, the smell of pizza dough and diesel, laundry hanging between baroque churches, and a general glorious mayhem that feels more genuine than anywhere else in Italy. Naples is loud, gritty, overwhelming, and absolutely magnificent.

I've been to Naples twice on Mediterranean itineraries, and both times I faced the same dilemma every cruiser faces: Pompeii, Amalfi Coast, or Naples itself? The answer, frustratingly, is that they're all unmissable. You can't do all three properly in one port day. So you choose, and you promise yourself you'll come back for the rest.

My first visit, I chose Pompeii. The Circumvesuviana train from Naples Central Station is the cheapest way there — €3.90 each way, 35 minutes — though it's notoriously rough around the edges (watch your belongings). The ruins, when I arrived, silenced every criticism. Here was a Roman city frozen in time by Vesuvius in 79 CE: streets with stepping stones for pedestrians to cross without stepping in waste, taverns with painted menus on the walls, a brothel with explicit frescoes to help patrons select services, a bakery with mills and oven intact. I walked the main streets, peered into homes where families died huddled together, and stood in the amphitheater imagining gladiatorial combat. It's enormous — plan at least 3–4 hours and bring water, because there's little shade.

My second visit, I did a ship excursion to the Amalfi Coast and Sorrento. The drive along that coastline — hairpin turns carved into cliffs above a turquoise sea — was worth it alone. We stopped in Positano, that famous cascade of pastel houses, and I understood why artists have been coming here for centuries. Sorrento was more refined, with its lemon groves and views across the Bay of Naples to Vesuvius. But the excursion was rushed, as ship excursions to the Amalfi Coast always are. You get a taste, not a meal. To really experience it, you'd need to stay overnight.

What I didn't do on those first visits — and regret — was spend real time in Naples itself. On my third visit (someday), I've promised myself to do exactly that. The city deserves it. The National Archaeological Museum houses the finest Roman artifacts in existence, including the erotic art and mosaics from Pompeii. The Spaccanapoli — that narrow street that "splits Naples" through the historic center — is lined with churches, workshops, nativity scene artisans, and pizza shops. The underground tunnels (Napoli Sotterranea) reveal Greek and Roman passages beneath the modern city.

And then there's the pizza. Naples invented pizza. Not as a brand claim but as historical fact — this is where the Margherita was created for Queen Margherita of Savoy in 1889. The pizza here is different from what you get anywhere else: a soft, charred crust with the center nearly soupy with San Marzano tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella. I ate mine at a place near Via dei Tribunali where locals lined up, standing at the counter because there were no tables. It was the best pizza I've ever had, and it cost €5.

Vesuvius itself can be visited — buses and tours go to a parking lot near the summit, then you walk the final stretch to peer into the crater. It's less dramatic than you might hope (no bubbling lava), but the views are spectacular and there's something primal about standing on an active volcano. Combined with Pompeii, it makes a full day.

Naples is not for everyone. It's hectic, the driving is terrifying, and the city has a reputation (often overstated but not entirely unearned) for petty crime. But it's also one of the most vital cities in Europe — a place that hasn't been gentrified into blandness, where the old ways persist, where the food is transcendent, and where you can touch history that isn't roped off in a museum. It's Italy at its most Italian, for better and for everything.