Layers of construction barriers hid the main entrance from view, so we veered off towards the seaside in hopes of spotting another point of access. Aside from enjoying the sights and sounds of Neapolitan fishermen in a local harbor, no luck.

Circumnavigating the consulate and slipping into the pedestrian way immediately before the construction seemed to be the only reasonable way of entering for our immigration interview. At the mouth of the walkway was an armed military guard. We exchanged stranger glances of acknowledgment with him from a social and scared distance, shrugged, and returned to our guesthouse.