When I first arrived in Napoli, I was shocked at how the streets were teeming with tourists. Each cruise ship that pulls into Napoli port daily brings thousands of people following the tracks of their tour guides waving around folded-up umbrellas. The narrow cobblestones aren’t wide enough to handle the foot traffic, leaving pedestrians frog-hopping between the harrowing traffic in the streets.
Over-tourism is a risk to most of the major cities in Italy. Cecilie Hollberg, the director of Florence's Galleria dell'Accademia, famously said this year “Once a city becomes a prostitute, it is difficult for it to become a virgin again,” a vulgar statement highlighting the drastic change tourism has had on Florence. To combat over-tourism, the city of Venice introduced a tourist tax which generated over 700,000 euros in revenue after only 8 days. Italy sees over 65 million tourists per year, more than the population of Italy itself at 58.9 million.
Napoli’s culture and infrastructure are at risk than the more wealthy cities of the north because of a dangerous combination: it is one of Italy's fastest-growing tourism destinations, and it lacks the infrastructure of the north. Both nationally here in Italy and internationally, Naples has faced challenging prejudices. Here to discuss how over-tourism has affected the population of Napoli is Vittoria Francesca, author of One Way Mirror and born and bred Neapolitan.
Being Neapolitan comes with certain complexities.
We are socialized to be vocally proud of our city, whilst at the same time remaining hypercritical of its problems. We are ready to defend it against anyone who would dare say a bad word about it. Our country’s institutions historically cared very little about investing in our economical and social development.
This has led to a mass migration to other parts of the world and of Italy: if you feel like we’re everywhere, it’s because we are. I don’t suppose you ever stop being Neapolitan though.
To me, this city is my identity, no matter where I am or how long I’ve not been home.
It is only recently that the revelation of my origin has not been automatically met with some distasteful joke. In 1998, the year I was born, the city was barely on international tourists' radar. Fellow Italians - especially from far up north - would have never imagined stepping foot on our streets. Our city was always seen as a lawless land, too untidy, too dangerous for the average visitor.
The people of the city faced the same prejudice.
I spent the majority of my life as an emigrating Neapolitan, longing to go back home, and being made fun of because of my traditions. Naples was my safe haven and my greatest disappointment. When I finally moved back as a middle schooler, I bore the enemy’s accents and their reservations against my own people.
Around 2010, though, something shifted. In 2012, the government announced the end of the environmental crisis known as the “Naples waste management crisis”, which was first declared in 1994. We also gained a new mayor. I was too young to understand his politics, but saw the way the city center evolved into something the tourists might enjoy.
So, as I returned home, Naples got famous.
I can’t lie: the first few years of overtourism were thrilling. Finally, my old schoolmates would get to see how gorgeous Naples was, and how fun the citizens were! We were all excited for our beautiful Partenope to become a hotspot. After all, it was well deserved: after years of being seen as a lesser people, now no one was going to be afraid of having their watch stolen anymore.
I naively also expected that would have meant better services, better traffic, better jobs. I was childish, not yet well-versed in the issues of touristic gentrification. Unsurprisingly to many, what I hoped for did not occur. It didn’t become easier to get a doctor’s appointment, kick start a career, or use the bus to move between errands.
What did happen, though, is that our city was, for lack of better wording, bastardized by tourism.
It is undeniable, Naples' personality is unmatched. I understand why it attracts tourists, it’s the same reasons that made me move back closer to home after 7 years abroad. It’s not just the people and the food, it’s the layout of the city, its unique stratification, and contamination, so different from anything else Italy - and Europe - have to offer. We are not a shy population, there are so many of us, the streets are always full, of people chatting, laughing, and rushing somewhere.
In Naples I never feel alone.
Still, because I have spent so much time away from Naples, especially living with people from the Northern area of Italy (who have a history of discrimination against Neapolitans), I am skeptical of their appreciation of our uniqueness.
I remember, last year, when I got the bus from the Airport to the Port, a family of Northern tourists rode the bus with me. They kept commenting on everything they saw as you would a trip to the zoo: upon seeing the highway, they wondered “oh how bizarre, what in the world could this possibly be?”, or, when the bus driver announced we had reached our first destination, they mused “of course this is how they would communicate in Naples, just shouting across the bus! Shouldn’t be surprised Neapolitan buses don’t have buttons or overhead speakers!”.
Here, I think, lies the first issue with over-tourism in Naples, which is a sociological one. As much as I am happy that people fly back home in love with a new corner of the world, I can’t help but feel like we’re now always under scrutiny. Perhaps this is just a me problem, but I tend to walk around afraid that we’ll misstep in a way that will have us ridiculed by those who were just waiting to have their biases confirmed. They heard of the “relaxed way” of Neapolitans and are excited to see it in action. It stagnates us as individuals.
There’s another layer to this phenomenon, though: the services offered appeal solely to the visitors rather than the communities.
Take for instance the public transport; the city center has now been blessed with “Europe’s most beautiful subway station” and there has been a certain limited improvement with the timings of the trains. To this day, however, it cannot be compared to the underground systems all over the world. Additionally, the suburbs are still poorly connected to each other and the historical center. I know from my family and friends’ experiences (and my own, when I was a high schooler) that commuting in the morning can be utterly exhausting, due to the uncertainty and unpredictable nature of our systems. Sure, we make fun of it, and consider it a given of life in Naples, but why should it be so? It is especially annoying when compared to the Alibus service, which links the airport to the city’s other major hubs: in just a couple of years, the service was drastically improved, and traveling with it is no longer the odyssey it used to be. Why should only the tourists benefit from improved transit?
Then there’s the city center itself, and the issue of cleanliness and crowds. As I said, Naples is definitely not known for its quiet and tidy vibes, part of the stereotype we carry around is that of a dirty city. The amount of street food joints that have appeared on Via Toledo, the main street, has only worsened the situation. The last time I was home, I was distressed by the amount of humans and trash, not to mention the nauseating smell of fried food. It appears that even public institutions have recognised that something needs to be done and boundaries have to be set: a recent regulation forbids the opening of any new restaurants in the historical center for the next three years.
Again, I am aware of how tasty Neapolitan food is, I miss it every day. But we’ve now reached a saturation point, and as the tourists are getting exploited, so are our traditions and - most importantly - so are our communities. For Neapolitans, it is getting harder to move around the main roads and the lungomare, the seaside promenade, with ease. Even the Quartieri Spagnoli, a very peculiarly structured historic neighborhood, where the houses were cheap and the population economically disadvantaged, has become an instagrammable destination. My boyfriend’s house is up there, and the number of aperitivo bars that have popped up halves the width of the already tiny alleys.
Finally - most importantly - it is not just the scrutiny, the recreational activities, or the traffic. The most worrying result of hyper-tourism in Naples is the increase in house prices due to the boom of B&B and Airbnb structures. Every street has at least one short-term let available to tourists. In a place where tourism has not meant better jobs and better living conditions for the majority of the population, this has led to citizens being driven away from their forever homes, places they’ve lived in their whole lives because they cannot afford it. This issue is not unique to Naples, but it is significant that access to housing now has new barriers for communities that already faced much hardship even before tourism got big.
And for those who stay behind, or manage to move into a “cool” part of town, there is no sense of belonging, only a sense of unrest that comes with having to share your familiar spaces with new strangers every week.
I wonder, will there be a point in visiting Naples when Neapolitans won’t be walking around anymore?
If everything is catered to tourists, who expect us to be archetypes of ourselves, what will be for those who live in the city?
Personally, I’d like to see a park, I’d like to experience life in a place that makes you feel free and secure. That is not the Naples we are building, and I don’t see this changing soon.
Thank you so much
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Very interesting piece. I agree with the other comments—this is not just a problem for Naples; all major tourist destinations suffer from this issue. Italy has many, but we are not the only ones: you have to wait in line to see the sunset in Santorini, Greece (a line for a sunset!), or to visit the Alhambra in Granada, Spain, you need to book in advance, otherwise, you risk not getting in—in fact, you won’t get in because it’s sold out every day. New York has almost become purely touristic, turning into a kind of theme park, and residents are leaving. This is media-driven tourism, and I talked about it in my first piece here on Substack. As an Italian, I myself cannot stand this aggressive way of tourism (chasing Instagrammable spots) and surrendering to tourism (the loss of a place’s soul). Maybe the solution is to step away from social media, from iconic places, and discover nearby spots that are less famous but have soul.
This really hits.
I just came back from three weeks in Italy, and was shocked and horrified about the crowds in Rome — even though I’m part of the tourist problem. The swarming crowds, shoulder to shoulder, dozens deep at Trevi Fountain were anxiety-inducing. This was a Monday afternoon in late April, just the start of “tourist” season.
I have pictures from 2009 where I’m able to comfortably sit at its edge, and sure, there were tourists around, but this year was something else.
Even in smaller tourist destinations, like Assisi, we tried to visit and were turned away by police saying there was no more room for cars. We had to park at the train station at the city’s edge — a less than 5km drive that took 40 minutes. We gave up.
I’m not sure what the answer is, visiting other countries, obviously, is a good thing: it creates better understanding and appreciation of other cultures, but over-tourism is just repulsive. Hard to find a solution but at least tourist tax might go towards building (and repairing) local infrastructure?