Wednesday, February 28, 2001

By Ward Sanderson
Naples bureau

NAPLES, Italy — It was February. But he was walking on Sunshine.

The Italian soldier took an afternoon break on the bright isle of Nisida. And though he is usually a warrant officer, he was a skipper on Tuesday.

"This," Emilio Cariello said, peeling back a blue tarp, "is my baby."

Its name was Sunshine. His restored boat. Bought last year. Thirsty for the sea.

The water sighed and plunked with a fisherman’s lure, the sky was a bright eyeshadow blue. But isn’t February a little early for the sun to debut? For troops to play hooky to fuss over Fiberglas and fish? Maybe. But that’s why the guy casting on the dock was wrapped in hat and slicker.

It hailed Monday. Today should bring the Neapolitans clouds with rain showers and thunderstorms. Thursday should bring 28-mile-an-hour winds. Friday and Saturday are supposed to be sunny and in the 60s.

It’s not quite March yet, but it’s close. It’s already pazzo.

That’s the saying: Marzo e’ Pazzo. March is crazy.

The Neapolitan March has the moodiness of a pubescent after an episode of Dawson’s Creek, all the rage of Mike Tyson after an earlobe, and is as easy to read as an original copy of Beowulf.

Anything can happen. At night, the shutters literally rattle in their frames, loose windows spring ajar in the hissing wind. You wake up to a misty window so wet it’s opaque. So you go outside in hat and coat ... only to find a sky gone bright. But leave the umbrella? "No, signore."

Cariello said he believed that though the pazzo may have arrived before the Marzo, he thought that was good.

"The spring is coming earlier this year."

He gave bad weather about two weeks to live.

The locals seemed to believe it. On Tuesday, boys played pick-up basketball beneath cold-scorched palms. Lovers smooched by the sea.

Not many Americans were enjoying Navy-run Carney Park, a dormant volcanic bowl filled with golf green and tennis courts and softball diamonds. But the staff watched the weather and wondered.

"The birds are singing," said Wendy Ross, leaning on a doorjamb. "And when the birds are singing, you know something’s up."

OK, it hailed Monday. And Ross swore she saw snow — a real miracle in palmy Napoli, much less the park.

"I’ve worked here two years," Ross said, "and it never came inside."

They call the crater "In Here," and the rest of the world "Out There."

It’s cooler "In Here" than "Out There," and usually less windy, unless it hits at the right trajectory.

Then, "you can get a wind that will scoop around in here like a hurricane."

Jerry Troiano runs the park’s sports programs for kids. He’s worked here 14 years and lived outside Naples all of his 37 years. He thinks not only is Marzo early, but that the entire calendar is whacked.

"This is not a February day," Troiano said. "This is April. And three days ago, we were freezing our butts. ... Really, honestly. We’re missing seasons."

He said flowers are blooming that shouldn’t bloom until May.

"They’re receiving some wrong signals, and bam! They put flowers out."

And there’s something pazzo about Marzo driving, thanks to the wind: Power lines going down. Garbage blowing. Cars weaving.

"Cans are in the street," Troiano said. "You get a newspaper — bam! — in the windshield."

Of course that didn’t stop optimistic Cariello from fixing up Sunshine, from painting an anti-barnacle coating on the bottom, from visiting the boat whenever he can, workday or free.

"I like the sun!" he said. "I have no problems. My boss knows I come here everyday to check on my boat."

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