Beneath the bustling streets of Naples lies a hidden world, a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers stretching as deep as forty meters underground. This subterranean network began with the Greeks, who quarried the soft yellow tuff stone here to build their city above. What they left behind were vast, hollowed-out spaces—smooth-walled halls that would later take on new purposes. The Romans, ever practical, repurposed these cavities into an intricate system of aqueducts and cisterns, supplying the city with water for over two thousand years. That is, until a cholera outbreak in the late 19th century forced the authorities to seal off the system, leaving it to fade into obscurity.
For decades, these underground spaces became a dumping ground, filled with the discarded remnants of life above. But during World War II, they took on a far more urgent role. As bombs rained down on Naples, thousands of people sought refuge in these tunnels, turning them into makeshift shelters. Families lived here for weeks at a time, their presence still etched into the walls—childish drawings, hurried inscriptions, the faint outlines of beds. Even now, the remnants of that era remain untouched: abandoned toys, rusted tools, and fragments of machinery scattered among the shadows.
The most popular tour winds through these cisterns and galleries, lit only by the dim glow of handheld lanterns. The highlight for many is a narrow side passage, barely half a meter wide, where visitors shuffle sideways with a candle in hand. It’s an eerie experience, the flickering light casting long shadows on the damp walls. Those who prefer not to squeeze through can take an alternate route, though the sense of adventure is part of the appeal. In one of the larger chambers, an unusual sight awaits: a small underground garden, where vegetables grow under artificial lights, thriving in complete darkness.
One of the most intriguing parts of the tour leads back to the surface, not into the open air, but into a seemingly ordinary apartment building. From its basement, a hidden passage opens into the ruins of an ancient Roman theater. This is the very place where, according to historical accounts, Emperor Nero once performed, his voice echoing through the stone corridors. The contrast between the mundane modern building and the ancient structure beneath it is striking, a reminder of how layers of history coexist in Naples.
The underground is cool, hovering around fifteen degrees Celsius, and damp, so a light jacket and sturdy shoes are a must. Tours run on a fixed schedule, and while guides occasionally offer explanations in Russian, most are in Italian or English. The standard route lasts about ninety minutes, beginning just steps away from the main pedestrian thoroughfare of the historic center. It’s a journey that feels like stepping into another time, where the past isn’t just remembered—it’s still alive in the quiet, echoing spaces beneath the city.
Naples’ underground isn’t just one unified system; it’s a patchwork of different routes, each with its own character and history. Some tours focus on the cisterns, while others explore the catacombs beneath a hill or the eerie burial chambers hidden under a church. Each has its own entrance and story, so it’s worth choosing carefully. The city’s depths are vast, and what lies beneath is as complex and layered as Naples itself. There’s no single way to experience it—only different paths into the past.
