Categoria: Language

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Ancient English Familiarity French Greek History Intimacy Italian Language Latin Napoletano Napoli Neapolitan Past Teacher Translation

The words of the ancient Neapolitan. The past remembers the future.

Neapolitan is also a “language in the language”. There are many words of the Neapolitan dialect that are no longer used today. Words that our grandparents used, which once bothered us because they seemed vulgar. We are missing the same words today because they found our identity.

When we were young these words of the past were rough in our ears and we made fun of those who used them. For example, I remember the word Muccaturo which in Italian means handkerchief. This word comes from the Catalan mocador and also from the French mouchoir. The Muccaturo empirically makes the sense of dirt, of that dirt that comes out of your nose. The rheum you emit when you sneeze end up right there, in the cotton handkerchief that was kept in the coat pocket and washed only when it had become unusable. To me the image of the muccaturo was really annoying and I remember that when I was a child it scared me, because I didn’t know how to use it when I had a cold. But it is also true that it was of great help to me, because the tissue (the clinex) irritated my child’s skin. The muccaturo was really useful, practical, perhaps unhygienic but safe and faithful. Today in Naples nobody talks about it. The handkerchief is called ‘o fazzuletto (from italian: fazzoletto) and almost all citizens use the paper handkerchief.

Another word that is part of the old Neapolitan is Crisommola, which in Italian means apricot. Crisommola derives from the Greek χρυσοῦν μῆλον (chrysoûn mêlon = golden fruit), and it is a really strange way to call a fruit. The crisommola is perhaps one of the most beautiful fruits. Sweet, orange, tender and soft. Yet the Neapolitans called it this word, difficult to pronounce and annoying to the ears. Today nobody uses the word crisommola. Almost everyone in Naples says “Albicocc” (from Italian Albicocca). It may happen that some greengrocers want to clarify the terminology, specifying that what they are selling you is just a kilo of crisommola. I’ve always made confusion between orange and apricot. Because in Naples the apricot is called crisommola and the orange purtuall (in the past in Naples the oranges were mainly imported from Portugal). And at lunch and dinner almost all my family corrected me because I did not know how to distinguish between the two fruits. I admit that even today I am very confused and tend to never use these two words. Yet crisommola and purtuallo make better the sense of origin, the roots of the words of the Neapolitan language.

Another old word that always made me smile is Mustacce (which in Italian means baffi ) and derives from the Byzantine Greek moustákion and the French moustache. In Naples, the Mustacce are those very thick baffi, the ones that used people in the 1800s and that made a man a real man. All the men in the old portraits and photos have the “mustacce” and those same men were proud to wear them. Today the Mustacce are confused with the beard and represent a single image of masculinity.

Having mustaches meant being grown up, going from childhood to adolescence.

An adult man absolutely had to have mustaches.

Why is it so important to remember the words of the past? Those words make our story and also help us to understand the present.

It is always said that the past was a better place than the present. I can’t say if this statement is correct but I definitely know that Neapolitan cannot be a language that belongs only to the present. The Neapolitan is the past that always returns, the future that calls the past, the present that exists only thanks to what has been and what will be.

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English Familiarity Greece History Intimacy Italian Language Latin Napoletano Napoli Neapolitan Negozio Neighbourhood Senza categoria Shop Teacher

A Puteca from Latin Apotheca

Any child raised in Naples has heard this phrase at least once: “Piccerillo, vai n’attimo ‘a puteca e accatta nu piezzo e pane” (honey, go to the grocery and buy a piece of bread).

The piccerillo involved is almost always unaware of what a puteca is and why it is possible to buy bread right there. In the Neapolitan language ‘a puteca is a shop where you can buy basic necessities. You can often find it near your house and buy what you need cheaply.

It may happen that among relatives and friends this word is pronounced to identify different places where you can shop. For example, my second-class uncles (zio Vincenzo and zia Maria) used to have a shop where they sold detergents and soaps. And throughout the neighborhood where they worked (the Borgo Vergini neighborhood), their shop was known as ‘a puteca.

This word therefore has different values and meanings according to the place and the importance it occupies. I remember, in fact, that my uncles’ detergent shop was very very small. The intimacy of that place made it magical and welcoming, so as to earn the name of ‘a puteca.

We have already said in the previous articles that the Neapolitan language is able to accept words of other languages and to transform the meaning of these words and adapt them to the style of Neapolitan culture. Puteca (in Neapolitan) comes from the Latin word apotheca, which in ancient Rome was used to indicate the shop. Puteca also has origins in the Greek word ἀποθήκη (apothéke) which always means shop. But how did this word take root in the other European languages deriving from the Latin strain? In France, for example, it has become the word boutique while in Germany we find that apotheke is used to indicate a pharmacy.

Could some tourist or foreigners in Naples get confused? Actually not. The presence of the puteca sign outside the shops of the Neapolitan city is really rare.

‘A puteca is an intimate name, recognizable only among the Neapolitan population, which indicates a shop where there is often not even a sign. In Naples, in fact, you just have to say “Sto andando alla puteca di Tonino” (I’m going to Tonino’s shop) to make others understand where you are going. Be careful, though! A person can say that is going to the puteca of a certain person only if it moves in the same neighborhood. For example, if I live in the Sanità district and say that I am going to Gennaro’s puteca, whoever listens to me knows that I am going to Gennaro’s shop who works in the Sanità. But if I say that I’m going to the puteca of a Gennaro who does not have a shop in the Sanità but, for example, in the Fuorigrotta district, I must specify that I am going to the puteca of Gennaro but the one located in the Fuorigrotta district.

Walking through the alleys of Naples it is still possible to find some puteca. These are those shops that are always open, small and dark, where goods abound and overflow from the walls. Often merchants display what they sell even at the entrance of the shop, amassing objects on the sidewalk. We are talking about almost mythological places, rich in history and memories that make Naples a unique place in the world.

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German History Italian Language Napoletano Napoli Neapolitan Senza categoria Tedesco

Sparagno from german

‘O sparagno nun è mai guadagno (saving is never gain)

From the German word “sparen” to a famous Neapolitan saying

Naples is one of the cheapest cities in the world. I mean economic from the point of view of food, shopping, public services. If you live in Naples or pass by here you have the opportunity to spend little money and get lots of things. Yet there is a Neapolitan saying that reads like this: “‘O sparagno nun è mai guadagno” (saving is never a profit). This means that no matter how much you try to save, you will never earn a thing of value. Let’s take an example: if you need to buy shoes and buy a pair for a few euros, it is likely that after a few months of purchase these shoes will break and you will be forced to buy new ones. So what did you earn to buy a thing you needed for little money?


When two years ago I was in Berlin I was shopping at a well-known savings supermarket. And I read this writing on the shelves of the store: “Sparen”, which in German means precisely save. The word seemed to me very close to a term used in my city and that is “sparagno“, which means saving.


Even when I lived in Denmark, I bought cheap products that were present under the “Tilbud” sign (which in Danish means “savings”). But in Copenhagen I didn’t feel that home air that I felt when I went shopping in Germany. Every time I went shopping with the “sparen” in Germany, I wondered if I had earned anything from my shopping. Mindful of the fact that in Naples everybody says: “‘O sparagno nun è mai guadagno”, I still wanted to make many attempts to save but of which one has gone bad. In fact, one evening, I was really hungry for Italian food so I bought pasta and “allo sparen” sauce. Back home I cooked what I bought but didn’t have dinner at all. My sparen sauce didn’t stick to pasta allo sparagno. At that moment I remembered the first time I heard the legendary phrase I mentioned before. I was ten and absolutely wanted a colorful swimsuit that was for sale with a famous magazine for young girls. I was on vacation with my grandparents, in Calabria and forced my grandparents to buy me that magazine. Immediately after, I went to the beach to wear that turquoise costume with silver stars. I went into the water but after a couple of dives the upper part of the swimsuit broke and I lost it in the water. I returned in tears under the beach umbrella and hugged my grandmother for comfort, because I realized I had done something foolish. My grandmother scolded me, sweetly telling me: “Did you see? ‘O sparagno nun è mai guadagno”. Immediately afterwards she began to tell me a series of anecdotes about people from Naples that had bad experiences because they had bought some items for savings. Among these there were a bride who had bought a used dress that had broken on her wedding day, a childhood friend who had bought an old car that was immediately damaged due to the dented radiator and other characters from a Naples I have never met in person but that it’s in my memory thanks to the stories of my grandparents.

The saying “‘o sparagno nun è mai guadagno” is not just a play on words to make fun of those people who want to save money. This is above all a warning that the older generations make to younger ones. Saving money and then buying something that will not work well means looking bad in front of others, especially if that object is very important.

In Naples you can be the poorest in the neighborhood where you live, but you never have to save money to not become the laughing stock of your acquaintances.

Making a bad impression in public, in fact, can become the story of a bitter but funny tale that remains etched in the memory of people for so long, maybe even forever.

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American History Italian Language Napoletano Napoli Neapolitan Teacher

From the Anglo-American Strike a pose to the neapolitan Se spara e pose

If you speak in Neapolitan you have to ironize about something.

After World War II, American troops settled particularly in southern Italy. And from this settlement they were born mixtures and attractions of various kinds. American civilization was really different for the Neapolitan people: too modern in language, too futuristic in lifestyle. Yet the Americans relied well on Napoli, many soldiers found a new home, some even love, others a simple refuge from the horrors of war. Unlike most of the xenophile words that are part of the Neapolitan language, the Anglo-American words have been incorporated into our speech through a transformation of meaning. Among all the ways of speaking in my language, there is one that amuses and makes us think.

When in Napoli a person is showing off too much it is said that “se spara ‘e pose” (si dà le arie, in Italian language). And when you tell someone that “se spara ‘e pose”, you mean that the person to whom you are referring to it’s really exaggerating in the ways. Therefore the Neapolitan citizens assert this sentence with conviction, in order to diminish the excess of boast from his interlocutor.

When an Italian wants to take a beautiful photograph, he is said to be posing. In the English-speaking language, instead, to create a beautiful photo it says “Strike a pose!” that means really, to pose. If we isolate the word strike from the rest of the sentence, we notice that the verb to strike means precisely “to shoot” in a decisive way. Here is where the Neapolitan phrase “Se spara ‘e pose” comes from. This is like a play on words.


As we have already said, irony is the basis of the Neapolitan language. And it is probable that whenever the Neapolitans listened to the Americans say “Strike a pose”, they did not understand what they were really saying or that this way of saying made them laugh.


To better convey the meaning of the Neapolitan ironic phrase, we can cite the scene of a critically acclaimed movie based in the suburbs of Naples. The movie is Io speriamo che me la cavo, by the movie director Lina Wertmüller.

The scene is set in a school in the poorest suburbs of Naples. The teacher asks his students to name the street in which they live. And one of the children claims to live in “via Garibaldi” (Garibaldi street) and to know everything about the historical character Giuseppe Garibaldi. Feeling in competition with his classmate, a child from the front desk shouts to the teacher: “Ma quale via Garibaldi… Se spara ‘e pose, si dà le arie. Quello abita nella via delle tre galline”( Garibaldi street what? This is not true… he’s showing off! He lives in the street of the three hens).

Paolo Villaggio in the scene mentioned before.

With one sentence the poor child ironizes about his friend’s condition and downgrades his image.

The irony of Neapolitan language is powerful mostly in this strategy. Laughing and making people laugh about their own or others’ condition.

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History Italian Language Napoletano Napoli Neapolitan Teacher

Napoli, Home of everyone

I don’t remember what was the day I realized that Napoli was invaded by tourists.

When I was young walked in the little streets of my town and watched groups of foreigners in the churches and museums. They were always from the same nationalities: germans, french, japanese, maybe spanish. Then one day I decided to go eating in one of the most notorious pizza’s restaurant of Napoli. I was alone, back in town after a trip in Denmark and I craved for some good food from my country.
I sat at the “singles table”. Soon after a pizza was served at the table next to me, where a turkish woman and a portoguese man were chatting. The two of them asked me if I was from Napoli and I quickly confirm their doubts. They started to ask me many questions about the city, its history and the language that we speak. I smiled and told them that we neapolitans have a language of our own, like Catalans, and we refuse to speak italian, in some ways.

“Why?” a guy sitting behind me asked.

“Because we have a strong bond with our culture – I answered.

“Where are you from?” the pizza chef asked as he serve the pizza.

“From Australia” answered the tourist.

“Did you get it?” the chef told me. “I’ve never seen an australian guy who asks something about neapolitan language!” (Io nun aggio mai visto n’australiano che se domanda coccos sulla lingua napoletana!”)

While I was waiting to be served the portoguese man asked me about my family, if they spoke neapolitan too. I remember that he told me this: “Can you tell me something in neapolitan and then translate it for me?” I answered that I could have done it but the meaning of the words would have been lost in this way, like when you translate a Shakespeare’s sonata in italian. Then I remember that I told him something not so nice like: “Only neapolitan can understand neapolitan.” At that point the turkish woman said: “I can understand it! I came here eight times now. Listen, I know how to say: jamm, uè uagliò, and even: cumm site bellella. They explain to me that this is a compliment.”

“Yes, it is. It means that you are beautiful outside and inside. A nice person.” I answered.

“Cool! Oh, I love being here – she adds – but the day after tomorrow I have to leave.”

The smiles of that day filled my heart with joy and my mind with ideas. Speaking neapolitan is so natural for me and for the people borned and raised in this city but we have always thought that this language is personal, not so intriguing for a foreigner. Then why those tourists asked me so many questions? Maybe I found out the answer before in my trip in Denmark. One rainy sunday of september I invited some friends from Copenhagen to my house there and cooked them some traditional neapolitan dishes. Some eggplants with tomato sauce and a “mozzarella in carrozza”. While we were eating in the living room we’ve put some classic neapolitan music on, sung by Carosone. All of my friends told me that they knew this musician and his music, that it was one of the most famous in Denmark and in Europe in general so I decided to put something different as Liberato, 9 Maggio. “I bet you don’t know this one!” I told them, laughing.

Everyone liked it but the general opinion was: “”A little bit ugly in the language but really warm in the communication”.

Maybe this is the secret of neapolitan language… Sending emotions and warmth when you hear it.
But how is this possible? How an English, a French, a German or an American person can feel emotions in hearing words they don’t comprehend? I’ve been trying for weeks to answer this question and even now I still don’t have a clear explanation but I think I came up with a meaning behind it.

When I say that a neapolitan almost refuses to speak Italian I mean that, in assuming this position, there’s a strong sense of indentity (as well as belonging). Speaking in neapolitan means remember costantly. Remember an event, a little story from its town, a tradition, a funny story, a sad situation which we try to light up a bit. Every word, every sentence, every neapolitan way of saying is a costant celebration of memories and the more we speak it the more we remember. This is the way that we have chosen to not lose our selves, to not betraying our identity, to not leave our History behind.

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