Chasing Caravaggio

Buon Giorno,
I gave myself a fairly easy day, which meant I was walking for only about three hours instead of four or five.  I began with a trip to Piazza Garabaldi walking down Via Carbonara.  I do not like making this trip even though it's not that long or hard.  I hate the traffic noise.  The constant honking is not malicious; it's more in the nature of a warning.  I cross the streets with more confidence.  The drivers in Naples are experts at not hitting pedestrians, but boy do some of them cut it close.  The glare from the pavement is painful despite my fancy new contact lenses that darken in bright light.
Since I was there I made a trip to the bankomat.  Then I had to cross more streets.  I needed supplies that could only be got from the big supermarket near the train station.  I also scouted around for a post office or at least a tabacchi from where I could get stamps for my postcards.  One feature of European train stations is the inevitable shopping center.  It makes sense to me that the station is a place where people pass through all the time, and why not make it convenient for them to pick up something?
On my way back I was finally able to find a place that had stamps.  If you get stamps from a regular Italian post office, they are just normal stamps.  Tabacchi sell the kind you can track (I guess.  I've never tried it.)  But they have to go in special mail boxes, which is kind of a pain.
I dumped off my groceries and had a chat with a very attractive young man who works for the aparthotel and wanted to check in that I was enjoying the visit.  He claimed to have gained ten kilos from the Neapolitan food.  I saw no evidence of that.
Well, I had to do Something Touristy, and what better thing in Naples than to chase Caravaggio.  I walked up to the metro and took the train a few stops and strolled around until I found the Galerie d'Italia in the Palazzo Zevallos Stigliano.  It's not a huge project like the previous museums.  The palazzo itself is exquisite, and on its own merits a visit the the price of admission.  Up the marble staircase we go to a fine collection of works from the High Renaissance to the Late Nineteenth Century.
But we are really here for the Caravaggio given pride of place in a room all its own.  The museum touts this as "L'ultimo Caravaggio," as it is apparently the last work he did before he died.  The subject,  The Martyrdom of St. Ursula did not seem to inspire him as the painting is not among his best.  But it does have his signature unconventionality.  Caravaggio has dispensed with the Hundred Thousand Virgins to focus on Ursula herself pensively examining a wound as her executioners look on.  The lighting is dramatic as usual.
I had the gumption to walk home, and I am getting to know the Historic Center/Tourist Zone well, so I don't get lost.
For dinner I am having capetellini with oil, garlic, and cheese, but I feel obliged to discuss an indelicately named Neapolitan pasta sauce--puttanesca--the whore's sauce. The stories are that the working women enticed their customers with its fragrance or alternatively they used the pasta and sauce to revive themselves between clients.  Cute, but no such thing.  A highly-connected man from Capri loved hosting the wealthy and celebrities and knew they'd get a thrill from a connection with low life, so he renamed Sugo de Marinara, Puttanesca.  I made some before I came using my slow cooker to make tomato sauce.  It's easy, and if you are curious, melt some anchovies in olive oil and add them to tomato sauce.  When the sauce is cooked add smashed capers and sliced olives.  Serve with whatever pasta you fancy.
Ciao