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- Элизабет Гилберт
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- Ешь, молись, люби
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And
that
’
s
why
I
called
my
friend
Sofie
and
said
,
"
Let
’
s
go
down
to
Naples
for
the
day
and
eat
some
pizza
!
"
Immediately
,
just
a
few
hours
later
,
we
are
on
the
train
,
and
then
-
like
magic
-
we
are
there
.
I
instantly
love
Naples
.
Wild
,
raucous
,
noisy
,
dirty
,
balls
-
out
Naples
.
An
anthill
inside
a
rabbit
warren
,
with
all
the
exoticism
of
a
Middle
Eastern
bazaar
and
a
touch
of
New
Orleans
voodoo
.
A
tripped
-
out
,
dangerous
and
cheerful
nuthouse
.
My
friend
Wade
came
to
Naples
in
the
1970s
and
was
mugged
…
in
a
museum
.
The
city
is
all
decorated
with
the
laundry
that
hangs
from
every
window
and
dangles
across
every
street
;
everybody
’
s
fresh
-
washed
undershirts
and
brassieres
flapping
in
the
wind
like
Tibetan
prayer
flags
.
There
is
not
a
street
in
Naples
in
which
some
tough
little
kid
in
shorts
and
mismatched
socks
is
not
screaming
up
from
the
sidewalk
to
some
other
tough
little
kid
on
a
rooftop
nearby
.
Nor
is
there
a
building
in
this
town
that
doesn
’
t
have
at
least
one
crooked
old
woman
seated
at
her
window
,
peering
suspiciously
down
at
the
activity
below
.
The
people
here
are
so
insanely
psyched
to
be
from
Naples
,
and
why
shouldn
’
t
they
be
?
This
is
a
city
that
gave
the
world
pizza
and
ice
cream
.
The
Neapolitan
women
in
particular
are
such
a
gang
of
tough
-
voiced
,
loud
-
mouthed
,
generous
,
nosy
dames
,
all
bossy
and
annoyed
and
right
up
in
your
face
and
just
trying
to
friggin
’
help
you
for
chrissake
,
you
dope
-
why
they
gotta
do
everything
around
here
?
The
accent
in
Naples
is
like
a
friendly
cuff
on
the
ear
.
It
’
s
like
walking
through
a
city
of
short
-
order
cooks
,
everybody
hollering
at
the
same
time
.
They
still
have
their
own
dialect
here
,
and
an
ever
-
changing
liquid
dictionary
of
local
slang
,
but
somehow
I
find
that
the
Neapolitans
are
the
easiest
people
for
me
to
understand
in
Italy
.
Why
?
Because
they
want
you
to
understand
,
damn
it
.
They
talk
loud
and
emphatically
,
and
if
you
can
’
t
understand
what
they
’
re
actually
saying
out
of
their
mouths
,
you
can
usually
pick
up
the
inference
from
the
gesture
.
Like
that
punk
little
grammar
-
school
girl
on
the
back
of
her
older
cousin
’
s
motorbike
,
who
flipped
me
the
finger
and
a
charming
smile
as
she
drove
by
,
just
to
make
me
understand
,
"
Hey
,
no
hard
feelings
,
lady
.
But
I
’
m
only
seven
,
and
I
can
already
tell
you
’
re
a
complete
moron
,
but
that
’
s
cool
-
I
think
you
’
re
halfway
OK
despite
yourself
and
I
kinda
like
your
dumb
-
ass
face
.
We
both
know
you
would
love
to
be
me
,
but
sorry
-
you
can
’
t
.
Anyhow
,
here
’
s
my
middle
finger
,
enjoy
your
stay
in
Naples
,
and
ciao
!
"
As
in
every
public
space
in
Italy
,
there
are
always
boys
,
teenagers
and
grown
men
playing
soccer
,
but
here
in
Naples
there
’
s
something
extra
,
too
.
For
instance
,
today
I
found
kids
-
I
mean
,
a
group
of
eight
-
year
-
old
boys
-
who
had
gathered
up
some
old
chicken
crates
to
create
makeshift
chairs
and
a
table
,
and
they
were
playing
poker
in
the
piazza
with
such
intensity
I
feared
one
of
them
might
get
shot
.
Giovanni
and
Dario
,
my
Tandem
Exchange
twins
,
are
originally
from
Naples
.
I
cannot
picture
it
.
I
cannot
imagine
shy
,
studious
,
sympathetic
Giovanni
as
a
young
boy
amongst
this
-
and
I
don
’
t
use
the
word
lightly
-
mob
.
But
he
is
Neapolitan
,
no
question
about
it
,
because
before
I
left
Rome
he
gave
me
the
name
of
a
pizzeria
in
Naples
that
I
had
to
try
,
because
,
Giovanni
informed
me
,
it
sold
the
best
pizza
in
Naples
.
I
found
this
a
wildly
exciting
prospect
,
given
that
the
best
pizza
in
Italy
is
from
Naples
,
and
the
best
pizza
in
the
world
is
from
Italy
,
which
means
that
this
pizzeria
must
offer
…
I
’
m
almost
too
superstitious
to
say
it
…
the
best
pizza
in
the
world
?
Giovanni
passed
along
the
name
of
the
place
with
such
seriousness
and
intensity
,
I
almost
felt
I
was
being
inducted
into
a
secret
society
.
He
pressed
the
address
into
the
palm
of
my
hand
and
said
,
in
gravest
confidence
,
"
Please
go
to
this
pizzeria
.
Order
the
margherita
pizza
with
double
mozzarella
.
If
you
do
not
eat
this
pizza
when
you
are
in
Naples
,
please
lie
to
me
later
and
tell
me
that
you
did
.
"
So
Sofie
and
I
have
come
to
Pizzeria
da
Michele
,
and
these
pies
we
have
just
ordered
-
one
for
each
of
us
-
are
making
us
lose
our
minds
.
I
love
my
pizza
so
much
,
in
fact
,
that
I
have
come
to
believe
in
my
delirium
that
my
pizza
might
actually
love
me
,
in
return
.
I
am
having
a
relationship
with
this
pizza
,
almost
an
affair
.
Meanwhile
,
Sofie
is
practically
in
tears
over
hers
,
she
’
s
having
a
metaphysical
crisis
about
it
,
she
’
s
begging
me
,
"
Why
do
they
even
bother
trying
to
make
pizza
in
Stockholm
?
Why
do
we
even
bother
eating
food
at
all
in
Stockholm
?
"
Pizzeria
da
Michele
is
a
small
place
with
only
two
rooms
and
one
nonstop
oven
.
It
’
s
about
a
fifteen
-
minute
walk
from
the
train
station
in
the
rain
,
don
’
t
even
worry
about
it
,
just
go
.
You
need
to
get
there
fairly
early
in
the
day
because
sometimes
they
run
out
of
dough
,
which
will
break
your
heart
.
