GOAT ISLAND?

I’m not sure who would win the debate about which island is more beautiful-- Ischia or Capri.  From all the accounts I’d heard about Capri from the many people I’d met who have gone there, I was predisposed to think that Ischia would win.  But after Grace and I spent a few hours there, I’m torn.  I think the fact that we were there on a Monday three weeks after the end of “high season”, and the place wasn’t jammed with tourists, had a lot to do with the impression this island left with me. 

The Romans called this island "goat island", and its name may be derived from Latin for goats "capreae".  After putting our bodies through the torture of navigating Pompei and Positano (again), we decided to be kind to our knees and take the 20 euro tour with Guisseppe, the tour guide who “sold us” on the ferry to Capri.  We left the harbor on a small tour bus with about a dozen other people and went first to Anacapri, which is perched in the cliffs above Capritown.  

All the way, Guiseppe is educating us about the island and pointing out sights in two, or possibly three, languages—Italian, Spanish, and English.  It was difficult to understand him, because he would do parts of the sentences in each language, so you’d have to wait for the “rest of the story” until he said the phrase in the other two languages.  Very confusing.  

After he lead us to the famous villa of a Swedish physician/author (Munthe), we had some time to have lunch and explore the area a bit.  There were lots of high end shops with beautiful (and expensive) merchandise.  I guess if all there is to do is window shop, you might as well be looking at some high quality goods!

Pictures of/from Anacapri:

Then we went down to Capritown, also on a cliff—just a lower one.  Guisseppe led us to this house, which is was the Mussolini family house on Capri....

It's really big and beautiful...couldn't get it all in one frame.  Guisseppe made numerous references to Mussolini during our tour, but we couldn't understand what he was saying.  

Guisseppe left us on our own to explore Capritown.  We walked down (again!) to these beautiful gardens on the slopes of the town where we took pictures of each other by the famous faraglioni rocks which you see so often in pictures of Capri……………Guisseppe told us that this would be the proof that we were here!

The surrounding gardens were beautiful and tranquil, and we just relaxed on this beautiful bench for a while enjoying the beauty of the garden and the day………….

Then we walked back uphill (there’s no end to uphill in Italia) and caught the funiculare back down to the harbor to wait for a ferry back to Sorrento.  In a garden above the harbor back in Sorrento, I saw this beautiful tree--Grace called it a tulip tree--which I thought was especially unique and beautiful.

POSITANO AGAIN?! BASTA!

Okay, you already know I love Positano already, but Grace wanted to see it, too, so back I went to give her the tour.  But first we went further south to visit Amalfi, the town that gave this coast its name.  Amalfi is a much more humble than Positano….there really wasn’t much there to see, except this beautiful church……….

 We had a wonderful lunch there—spaghetti carbonara and grilled sea bass, which is about half the price here as in the U.S.  Yes, some things are less expensive here.....and for an optional donation, you get entertainment…..

Then we caught a bus and headed for Positano, which Grace enjoyed very much.  We walked down to the beach and then up that steep slope, once again.  By this time, my knees are objecting again to the mountain goat existence I seem to be leading.  I’ll add only a couple more pictures here, because I've gone on about Positano just about enough (basta)…….but I do  love this picture......

This looked like a lilac tree.....

When we got back to Sorrento, we had a light dinner at Maria Marrone’s Trattoria.  (That’s my Italian name.)

WHAT VESUVIUS DID TO POMPEI

I came to Italy with big hopes—first, that I would be able to get a residence permit, which hope was quickly smashed.  The second was that I would share parts of this retirement adventure with good friends.  This hope has begun to be realized with a visit from one of my oldest (span of friendship years, not chronological) friends from my days on the west side of Michigan. 

My friend Grace and I worked together at a hospital in Grand Rapids during the last century, three decades ago.  Grace had just enjoyed a cruise through the Mediterranean, starting in Barcelona and ending in Venice, before she winged her way to Naples and taxied into Sorrento to visit me.  I’m always delighted to spend time with Grace, because she’s so much fun and really easy to get along with.  We had traveled together to Cancun a few years ago, and I knew we would have a great time together here.

Of the many options for sightseeing here, Grace wanted to see Pompei, tour the Amalfi Coast, and go to Capri.  Grace arrived early afternoon last Friday, and we spent the rest of that day walking around Sorrento, enjoying a relaxed dinner, reviewing her cruise stops, and making plans for the next three days.  We chose to visit Pompei on Saturday, and this post will be devoted to our tour of this amazing city that was destroyed by the volcanic eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D.  This is the same Mt. Vesuvius that you see resting benignly across the Bay of Naples in pictures I posted earlier of the view from my apartment balcony. 

These pictures give you an idea of what it’s like to walk the streets of this excavated marvel.  In some places, you can see the ruts made by the chariots:

There are very few frescoes left here…most have been removed to the archeological museum in Naples.  Here’s one of the few that shows up decently in a photograph.

Here's the remains of the forum:

Here’s Grace, resting in the small theater: 

And here’s the large theater which seats about 5,000:

And the most amazing sight are the remains of people who lived here at the time of the disaster.  This one is the most expressive, I think, if you interpret this position as fetal:

And here's another….can you believe it? 

Following the volcanic eruption, first pumice and then ash fell on the city.   Then it rained, turning the ash into a mud which encased the suffocated bodies of the victims.  Although their flesh decayed, the skeletons of these victims remained trapped in the preserving layer of volcanic debris.  The director of the excavation of Pompei discovered a method for keeping the ash cases intact—pouring plaster into the hollow to create a cast of the body at the moment of death.   Pretty ingenious, but kinda creepy, too.

This place is huge, and there’s not much that’s colorful here.  These green trees looked refreshing against the monotonous greys and browns of all the stonework.

And, of course, Grace and I added a little color to the place!

We were tapped out after about 4 hours of exploring this place.  Walking on the uneven stones of the streets of Pompei  is hard on the joints.  Mine felt like someone had poured plaster in them!

On the way back to Marina Grande, we stopped at an al fresco restaurant in the main piazza to enjoy a glass of wine (served with olives and peanuts) and people watch.  Grace recognized a couple of women with whom she had shared a taxi to Sorrento, Blanche and Donna, and they joined us for a sip and a chat.  You’ll hear more about them in a subsequent blog.

AH. POSITANO

Several years ago, my niece Shelley and I spent the last two days of our Italy vacation at a lovely hotel in Positano, south of Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast. I have fond memories of reclining on a lounge chair on the hotel’s seaside deck and being served drinks by cute Italian cabana boys. (Or am I just dreaming that, Shelley?) 

Positano is a charming seaside town, built in tiers on high cliffs. (If you have seen Under the Tuscan Sun, it is where Diane Lane went to find that hot Italian guy she had met.) 

Back in the day when Amalfi was a kingdom, Positano was a bustling trade port, even though it has no harbor. Over the years, trading migrated to other Italian ports with harbors, and Positano was demoted to a fishing village. In more recent years, it’s developed into one of Italy’s most popular tourist towns. 

I had stopped at Positano on the boat cruise I took with the Australian couple, but we were only checking to see if we could get gas for the boat. So when my New Zealand and Swiss classmates asked if I wanted to go with them to Positano, I said “You bet.”   These women are savvy travelers, and like me, they don’t go on tours. We rushed to the bus station to catch the 1:00 p.m. bus, which didn’t arrive until 1:45 p.m. There was a passel of teenagers waiting for the same bus, and a few of the boys were kicking around a soccer ball. I was watching carefully to avoid being hit in the eye by a wayward ball, and I even changed my position to get out of harm’s way. But guess what, I got hit in the head with the ball anyway. A bit later, one of the boys kicked the ball over the train station—really quite impressive. I wanted to hug him. 

When the bus came, the teenagers (who were admittedly there before we were) crowded the door, and every seat was taken by the time we were able to push our way onto the bus. In Italy, they will allow as many passengers as can be crammed into the bus, standing or sitting. So we stood in the aisle until we got to Positano, which was about 45 minutes of trying to keep our balance as the bus maneuvered around the hairpin curves of the coastal highway. Not one of these young kids was courteous enough to offer their seat to a senior citizen! Then, we took a local bus to the little town of Montepertuso at the very top of the highest cliff overlooking Positano, where one of the women from New Zealand, her son, and the woman from Switzerland intended to take the steps from the top of the cliff down to Positano. The other New Zealander and I (with my injured knee) walked the road back to a little town in between.  Along the way, we passed one of the world's fewest "pierced mountains", a shoulder of rock with hole punched through (said to be a miracle performed by the Virgin Mary).....




A shot of the coast line--not really clear because it was a hazy day....

After our walk midway back to Positano, my kneee was aching, so we caught the bus back to Positano to do some window shopping while we awaited the arrival of the "steppers". This is the most colorful of all the shops we saw, and there are many!

We ended our day with a lovely beachside dinner.....

On left, Isabelle from Switzerland, then Kathy and Michele from New Zealand. On my right is Luke, Michele's son.

Ah, Positano!

OFF THE TOURIST TRACK

This weekend I went to meet one of my other Italian penpals, Antonio and his donna, Antoinetta.  

Antonio lives in a small town near Cassino, and some of you history buffs might think of the battle of Montecassino in WWII, when the Allied Forces destroyed a monastery that was founded by St. Benedict, as well as the town of Cassino. 

I took the local train to Naples and then a regional train to Cassino.  When I debarked the local train, there was a checkpoint where you had to show your ticket from the local train in order to enter the central train station.   The station employee who looked at my ticket wanted to fine me 41 euro because my ticket wasn’t date stamped.  I had put my ticket through a machine at the Sorrento station, and I hadn’t seen any other ticket validation equipment on the train, so I assumed I had done what I was supposed to do.....maybe the equipment had malfunctioned.  This station employee was pretty nasty and just kept asking me for my passport and 41 euro.  (I had only paid 4 euro for this disputed ticket.)  So, I just said, NO, I’m not paying the fine.  We went back and forth for a few minutes, and finally, he took my ticket, wrote the date on it, and let me pass through.  I must admit I was pretty nervous because I didn’t have my passport with me.  Everyone had warned me about thefts of handbags, jewelry and baggage in Naples, especially around the train station, so I consciously decided I wouldn’t take my passport.  But all ended well.

Cassino is still a fairly small city, but the towns where I spent my weekend were even smaller.  Antonio is retired from his job as a teacher of languages—French and English were his specialities, so I was able to have “real conversation” in English, as well as practice my Italian and learn even more from him.  Antoinetta lived in the States for a few months because her family emigrated to Cleveland, so she spoke excellent English as well.  Antonio is the “host extraordinare”.  He is an extremely intelligent, creative, and generous person who is living a very active retirement.  He and Antoinetta are both crazy about dancing—they met at a dancing school and partnered up about a year ago.  They dance three or four times a week, and Antonio also swims, paints, does pottery, and is starting an archery class next month.  He lives in a lovely house that started as two rooms, and over the years, expanded to 12 rooms on three levels.  The original house (two rooms) was where his deceased wife’s grandfather lived.  In Italy it is very common for families to pass on property to their offspring and for generations after to continue living in the same home.  The family home is very important to Italians.

Both Friday and Saturday night, I accompanied Antonio and Antoinetta to town squares where there was line dancing.  Saturday night, we had dinner at a place where there was live entertainment and people were doing line dancing and ballroom dancing.  Antonio would rather dance than eat!  I danced one dance with him—a simple cha cha—partly because of my sore knee and partly because you must know the steps!  I was amazed at how many people were dancing, from young teens to old folks (like in their eighties old), and what obvious enjoyment was evident in the faces of the participants.  In the town squares, there were from 20 to 40 people dancing at any given time, and it was clearly the center of entertainment for the locals.  It was dark, so my pictures aren’t great, but they’ll give you an idea of the setting.

On Friday night, we went to a small town where there was some kind of religious celebration connected to the dancing event, and the streets were decorated with these beautiful lighted arches. 

On Saturday evening, we went to a different small town, where there were similar decorations.......

as well as a number of street vendors selling peanuts….

kitschy stuff….and fast food.....

Translation:  The best of the best of fast food restaurants

Another highlight of the weekend was a trip to see the rebuilt monastery, and, unfortunately there is no a photograph can convey the beauty and serenity of this place.  

In some ways it is a replica of the one that was bombed, but there are some modern aspects also.  We went through the museum quickly, but there are many artifacts going as far back as the second and third century, and their art gallery boasts one Botecelli. 

I was absolutely delighted to spend this time in a “normal” Italian town, away from the tourist culture of Sorrento.  I could not have had more gracious hosts than Antonio and Antoinetta, who both went out of their way to make my stay comfortable and enjoyable.  (Note to my niece Shelley—I now have four Italian angels.)

Side notes:  Prices in restaurants were about half compared to Sorrento for the same dishes. And…I had an opportunity to eat Chinese food, Italian style.  So far, I've seen only two ethnic restaurants.

NEVER A DULL MOMENT

Did I mention that I haven’t watched TV in three weeks?  I thought I would miss it more than I do.  Of course, I would be lucky to find a program in English.  When I first arrived and was staying at a hotel, I was able to get one English program on their TV.

There are 2 TV’s in my apartment, but I can’t get either of them to work.  I’m not sure why, and I haven’t asked.  I’ve been reading a lot, and I usually have some homework to do at night, plus I’m living in a place where life on the streets is quite entertaining.

First, there are the musicians that entertain the diners in the many restaurants in the marina.  The fellow sings at one of the nicer restaurants is really quite good.  The water acts as the speaker system, magnifying every word of the songs he croons.  Some are ala Andrea Bocelli, some are ala Dean Martin.  Then there is a father/son act (I think).  The father plays the accordion, and the son accompanies him on a big hand drum.  They wander from restaurant to restaurant, and after they play two or three songs, the son circulates around the tables to take up a grateful collection.  This is a picture of them I took from my balcony. 

The father becomes quite animated—really gets into la musica.  Last Sunday, they had a third in their combo.  Maybe it was the grandfather—he played a very sour sounding sax, and I think people must have paid them to go away.  I was about to go down to the street and offer them 20 euro just to stop, but I didn’t want to hurt the old guy’s feelings.

And then there are the fireworks.  I’m never sure whether they’re connected to some sort of celebration, or if people here just like them.  But there are fireworks displays here two or three times a week. 

This last Sunday, I was resting my injured knee (a story for another blog entry) and reading, when the church bells next door went crazy ringing, ringing, ringing.  Mind you, I’m used to hearing them ring every half hour to announce the hour and hour and a half (e.g. for 8:30 p.m., 8 long loud rings, and a couple of short dings to signify the passing of 2 quarter hours).  Then at quarter after, one short ding, and at quarter to the hour, 3 short dings.  But this was like the bells went ringing mad.  Then I thought I heard a choir singing.  A bit later, I was sure I heard a band playing, so I limped out to the balcony to see what all the fuss was about.  There was a long procession making its way along the marina road, led by a group of priests carrying a large banner, followed by a bunch of regular folk.  Then came a priest, maybe a bishop , wearing gold embroidered vestments and swinging that incense burning thingie, and he was followed by some men who were carrying a large statue of some female saint on a platform which was decorated with lots of beautiful flowers.  Behind them was another group of priests carrying a red canopy, and then another gaggle of regular folk.  

They passed from one end of the marina to the other and then disappeared.  I thought they were going up the steps, but I didn’t see them ascending.  Then the fireworks started, and it was quite a grand display.  When the smoke cleared, I saw the procession coming down the steps (and have no idea how they got in that position) and they proceeded into the church, with the band playing, and then the bells went crazy again.  And after lots more clanging came lots more fireworks.  It was a cacophony.

It was dark, so my pictures didn’t turn out so well, but here's one where you can see the saint who was being honored.

And any old day, there are a myriad of tourists wandering about the marina.  They mostly come to eat, but some come to lay in the sun and swim.  I hear conversations in a multitude of languages.  A lot of Germans and Austrian vacation here, and there are always some Asians around, too. 

The noise doesn’t stop until around midnight here, and I’ve conditioned myself to sleep through it when I need to, but mostly I’m up late and usually hear the last bell ringing at midnight.  Unfortunately, I also usually hear the 5 a.m. bells.  But seriously, who would give up my view and all this entertainment just to get a little sleep?

TOP TEN THINGS I MISS

I'm being a bit redundant here (see Living with Less), but......If you haven’t traveled outside the U.S., you have no concept of the abundance of choices we have available to us every day, as well as the luxurious life we lead compared most other countries.  I’ve only been here three weeks, and I’m missing simple things that I can’t seem to find here in Sorrento, as well as ordinary things (in the U.S.) that are luxuries here.  Maybe it’s because it’s mostly a town for tourists who don’t usually cook for themselves, or do laundry, or clean their own apartment.  Here are some things I really miss:

1.  Screens.   I live in an old apartment building in an “average” apartment.  My classmates from New Zealand lived in a renovated apartment up the steps from me…very modern and lovely.  Neither of us had screens on our windows.  So I live with a few flying insects if I want fresh air (and I do).  There is one little pesky fly that has taken a liking to me, I think.  I’m going to start charging him rent.

2.   A clothes dryer.  While I like the smell of clothes that have been dried outside, I really miss the convenience of a clothes dryer.  And, even if you use fabric softener in the wash, the clothes never get as soft as they do in a dryer.  I feel very exposed hanging my undies out for everyone to see.

3.  American coffee and a regular coffeemaker.  They have what they call “caffe lungo” here, which is the Italian interpretation of American coffee.  Let me tell you, they got it wrong.   I would give a lot for a large McDonald’s coffee right now.   I used to drink three cups of coffee in the morning.  But, now I drink only one, latte style, because this is my coffee maker (and yes, that's a regular sized fork I'm holding). 

4.  A burger.  While Sorrento is a tourist town, and you'd think there would be a bit of catering to the tastes of people from other countries, you have to search long and hard to find a burger.  Mind you, I love Italian food, but I also like variety.  I’ve seen only a couple of restaurants that have anything on the menu besides Italian food—one place was an English pub, and a couple of days ago, I saw a place that had burgers and fries—and for breakfast, you could get Special K with banana.  You can’t buy ground beef in the supermarket.  I’m sure I could find more variety in a large city, like Rome or Florence, but for six weeks here, I’m pretty much on an Italian diet.  I’m going to get a burger fix sometime this week though.  But as for Chinese, Thai, Mexican or any other ethnic food, forget it.  Oh, I did see a sushi place, but since I'm not fond of it, for me, it doesn't count.

5.  A regular oven.  My oven has only a top heating element, which makes baking anything impossible.  I don’t know if this is the norm or not....I can't believe it is.  But I can’t make some of my favorite dishes because there’s no broiled version.  It’s good I don’t have a sweet tooth….can you imagine broiled cupcakes?

6.  A peppercorn grinder.  You know, the one you can find in the spice section in just about any U.S. grocery store.  Can’t find one here, even in the supermarket.  They have peppercorns, but my apartment isn’t equipped with a grinder.  They do exist here, and I have looked in the kitchen store for one, but it’s an upscale store, and I’m not putting out 30 euro for a grinder to leave here.  I miss my cracked pepper, but I think this one will be resolved when I go to Apulia.

7.  Berries.  I haven’t even laid eyes on a strawberry or raspberry.  I did see one very small package, maybe a half cup, of blueberries in the supermarket the other day.  They wanted 4 euro (about $5 USD) for them, and they looked old.  Come to think of it, I haven’t seen an apple either, but I don’t eat them often.  There are delicious peaches, bananas, grapes, and pears, which are abundant here.   But no seedless grapes.

8.   A reliable Internet connection.  To get Internet in my apartment, I purchased a “carta per Internet”.  It looks like a fat memory stick.  It works fine, but I lose my connection frequently, because of the low signal strength.  I’m hoping this is a location issue, because it’s very frustrating when you’re in the middle of something and ZAP, the connection drops.  That’s why I’m not posting on my blog more often.  It takes a long time to finish just one entry with all the interruptions.

9.       Chicken broth.  Just not available, and I don’t like the taste of broth made with bouillon cubes.  This is serious, folks.  I ate a lot of soups and made risotto often at home.

10.   This should be number one.   I miss talking to and doing things with my friends and family.  I know this won’t get better.