Page 34 of Marcello

Sotto Napoli was easy to spot: it was the only business with people lined up out front. Lots of Americans wearing jeans and t-shirts, but there were also some Germans (you could tell by the Birkenstocks with white socks) and Italians (much more stylishly dressed than everybody else).

I texted Pasquale I was here. Two minutes later, he came out wearing a bright orange vest over his normal street clothes.

“Ciao, Marcello!” he called out happily. “Right on time – come with me!”

He led me past a girl scanning tickets on people’s phones. We entered the lobby, which was really just an area with a desk, cash register, and some merch on shelves. At the far end of the room were two giant wooden doors like what you’d find on a barn.

“Wait here,” Pasquale told me. “When I start the tour, just blend in – and don’t be afraid to ask questions. I forgot to ask – you speak English?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, ‘cause the tour’s in English.”

He went back outside and helped the girl scanning tickets. Within five minutes, the lobby filled up with tourists.

Pasquale walked back in.

“Hello, everyone!” he said in heavily accented English. “And welcome to Sotto Napoli!”

He gave a short lecture about safety, and warned people to stick to the group and not wander off.

Then he led us into the underworld.

We passed through the barn doors and walked down a wide, gently sloping concrete ramp. The stone walls were lit by electric lights every 20 feet or so.

Two hundred feet later, I figured we must be pretty far beneath street level –

And then the ramp turned 90 degrees left and went even deeper.

The entire time, Pasquale talked about the history of the tunnels – basically everything he’d told me at the party about the ancient Greeks and Romans.

We wound up in a big room that looked like it had been carved out of stone. It was dimly lit, with a ceiling at least thirty feet high. The overall impression was that we were standing in a massive cave, with a temperature to match; it was at least ten degrees cooler than it had been outside on the street.

On one side of the cave was a metal door with a push-bar handle and a red, glowing EXIT sign above it.

On the other side was a rough-hewn passageway carved into the rock wall.

“Okay, we’re about to enter the tunnels now. If you’re feeling claustrophobic, this is your last chance to exit quickly,” he said, pointing to the doorway with the glowing sign above it. “There are other exits out of the tunnels, but they take longer, and you’ll need a tour guide to help you get back to the surface. So, if anybody wants to leave…”

Nobody took him up on the offer.

“Alright, stick close to me and the other people on the tour – it’s easy to get lost in here!” Pasquale said cheerfully.

From there, he led us through the rough-hewn doorway and into the tunnels.

The passage was so narrow that I could have reached out in either direction and touched the walls. The ceiling was so low, I had to stoop. I’m 6’3”, so it must’ve been less than six feet tall.

The tour went on for almost 45 minutes. We saw too much for me to describe everything, so I’ll just mention the high points.

There were 50-foot-tall caves with carved pools filled with clear water. Small lights lit up the darkness, but there were still deep shadows everywhere. A single light in the water gave it a beautiful, slightly greenish glow.

“This is all rainwater that’s filtered through the rocks, because they blocked off the river decades ago,” Pasquale explained. “You could probably drink it… but I wouldn’t recommend it!”

He pointed at the thousands of coins on the bottom of the shallow pool. “People like to make wishes. We clean it out every six months and donate the money to charity.”

In one cavernous room, there were small stalactites and stalagmites that had formed over 2800 years…

A tiny waterfall that trickled 30 feet into another pool…