Italy Day 11 – Chill in Sorrento

I’m not sure why I was surprised that Sorrento has become one of the go-to playgrounds for the Brits and Irish.  It’s a short flight and the weather here is many orders of magnitude better.  So I’m not surprised that on the menu at the café in the main square I see the Full English Breakfast, something introduced to me by my business partner during a trip to Hong Kong last year.  If you’ve ever experienced this gastronomic oddity, you know the real reason why we declared our independence in 1776.  Mandy has not, so I order it.  Included are eggs, toast and Parma ham (in lieu of the traditional bacon), some weird, mostly cold, gray hot dog (in lieu of the traditional “bangers”, English sausages), baked beans and a slice of unripe tomato sitting on some wet iceberg lettuce.  Mandy is appalled.  I tell her that the reason this exists is for optimism.  No matter what happens next, you day is guaranteed to get better.

Lemons permeate the culture here, celebrated in the fabrics, ceramics, food and, of course, the lemoncello.  The area is covered in lemon fields, and the trees, loaded with fruit, are everywhere you look.  We make our way to the last working grove in town, leaving the tourist area and walking through work-a-day Sorrento.  The groves have been operated by the same family for generations and it’s nice that they are preserved here.  The tasting room is just tacky enough to qualify as a 60s roadside attraction, and the cello is the best we have tasted, less sweet than most. 

We head back to the center of town.  All the British vacationing has inevitably morphed into a significant expat population with the pubs and restaurants to support them.  Fish and chips, pints and liters of good beer and 24 hour football – European football that is – are always right at hand.  Except for Sunday in the fall.  Apparently the NFL has taken a foothold across the pond, so this afternoon the big screens in The English Pub are tuned to the Dolphins Patriots game, the crowd loudly cheering each play. 

We stumble across an art exhibit that turns out to be Gallery Raffaele Celentano, home of the celebrated Italian photographer.  Celentano’s work beautifully captures the whimsy, irony and emotion of life in Southern Italy, the location as much a personality as the people in each shot.  One of his iconic works is a shot of nuns pushing each other on a balcony swing overlooking Sorrento.  That balcony is right out back, so I try my hand at the art with my favorite model.  Raffaele is here today, so meeting the artist makes seeing his work all the better.  In an adjoining gallery, there is a Sophia Loren exhibit documenting the Italian bombshell’s career through photos.

We had planned on going the “beach” today.  It’s not a traditional beach as the rock cliffs drop sharply into the sea, leaving little room for sand.  Instead, these man-made beaches involve pairs or groups of lounge chairs with umbrella arranged in neat rows on long docks made specifically for the purpose and forming a nice swimming area.  It’s been threatening rain all day so our beach plans are scrapped but we’re still thankful as weather has been near perfect this entire trip.  In fact, we watch as a crew of men work to pack one of the beaches away for the season, folding up the long row of colorful changing rooms and pulling up the deck.

The rain finally arrives right before dinner.  Yesterday our Captain recommended Del Fino in Marina Grande so we made reservations.  Leaving our flat, we run into a couple just in from Boston taking shelter under the same canopy as us.  They’re looking for the same restaurant but came to the wrong marina.  We share a cab and I wait an entire 4 seconds before bringing up the Super Bowl.  I’m good like that.  I introduce myself to the hostess, who lights up when I mention my Italian name.  A guy could get used to this.  Dinner is a delightful array of local seafood made by a team of chefs who know exactly how to handle it.  For the first time in my life, I feel like I know what I’m doing when I look at the wine list, picking a Nobile di Montepulciano Riserva (it helps that we just came from there).  Paying the bill, we strike up a conversation with the hostess who still lights up every time she calls me “Pasqualeayyy!”  She sends each of us off with a tiny blessed mother charm, telling us how fortunate she is and wanting to share her blessings with us. 

Italy Day 10 – A Day on the Sea (or We’re Impressed That We’re Still Being Impressed)

We charter a 25’ boat with a captain, an experienced gentleman named Franchesco who goes by Cheecho.  It’s an extravagance for sure, but we really want to explore the coast from the water.  The water was choppy yesterday in the big ferry and no different today, so Mandy is worried.  Cheecho has the relaxed confidence that 30 years on the water provides and Mandy trusts him right from the start.  We discuss the day with our Captain and decide that Positano should be our first destination.  We set out and Cheecho expertly works the throttle and rudder of the heavy, powerful vessel to smooth out the waves.  Not only do we have a skipper, but an experienced tour guide as well, a man proud of his home and eager to show us it’s hidden beauties.  After just a few minutes, we pull into Marina Grande, the working marina full of fishing boats, fishermen and deck hands.  The boats are beautiful in their own right, purpose built from noble plans and painted colors that reflect the style of the region. 

We continue our journey along the coastline, Cheecho showing us features of the shoreline along the way.  It’s always an event when you get to look at the sea from the edge of the land.  It’s an even more special event to survey this land from the edge of the sea.  Water crashing against the rocks, you can hear the echoes of the eruptions that created this place.  At the point of peninsula, we pass the lighthouse and the Gulf of Naples becomes the Gulf of Salerno, our direction switching from west to east.  Along the way Captain pulls the boat into tiny caves and crevices to give us up-close-and-personal views of the topology.  At one small cove, he backs us right under a tall waterfall for an icy freshwater shower.  At the next cove, I jump in for a quick swim in the azure water.  We disembark in Positano to explore this fabled Amalfi Coast town.  Amerigo Vespucci would be proud that we did an entire 30 minutes of exploring before retiring to the nearest beach bar for a drink.  It’s a nice place to stare at the sea and just be for a few minutes. 

We’re not sure exactly how we’re supposed to let Cheecho know we are ready to go, so we just walk to the dock.  Out of nowhere, with not so much as a hand gesture, our boat appears.  A crowd of very well dressed people in a very well-heeled town parts for us as we step onto our waiting craft like it was choreographed.  It was totally baller.  On our way back out, just because this day isn’t going perfectly enough, a huge sea plane skims down the side of the mountain and does a water touchdown right alongside our speeding boat. 

On our skipper’s recommendation, we head towards Capri.  He knows we were there the day before, promising us a completely different experience.  He’s right.  This smaller craft can explore the island more intimately.  First stop is Anacapri, a very exclusive little town on the opposite side of the island and over the mountain from the town of Capri.  Cheecho is known around these parts and has the best table at Da Gioia (http://www.dagioiacapri.com/en/) reserved for us for lunch.  The corner table on the terrace wonderfully overlooks the beach below and the sea beyond.  If you were going to build a movie set for a romantic lunch, this would be it.  Pretty much everything we ordered was either picked or caught today and the sea bass was simply grilled with salt and expertly fileted tableside.  After lunch we take a dip at their private beach where, of course, lounge chairs are waiting for us.  We travel a lot, and we understand in real time this has become one of our single best days.

Cheecho saves the Blue Grotto for last.  We were not able to go into the Blue Grotto the previous day because the tide was high too high for the row boats to bring us in.  Cheecho intentionally brings us during high tide during the late afternoon today and we’re confused.  He explains that during low tide, there is an hour wait to get into one of the row boats and you go into the grotto with many dozens of other people.  We’re going to do a much more intimate visit.  We jump in to the cool water with small swim rings and paddle ourselves about 15 yards to the mouth of the cave.  There is a chain along the wall to pull yourself in, but you have to time the waves just right so as to not knock your head on the top of the entrance way.  We make it into the dark cave where we encounter a pair of twenty-something women.  One of the women is clinging onto the chain, terrified to go any further.  I swim in a few strokes and the blue in the Blue Grotto starts to reveal itself to me.  Back at the chain, Mandy askes the young woman “Where are you from?”

“France”, she replies. 

Mandy slips under the chain, turns back to her and says “Come on France, take my hand.  We’ll do this together.”

I remember why I love her.

The blue in the Blue Grotto happens because the sunlight bounces under the water to enter the cave, causing the most amazing color natural light you can imagine.  The further you go in, the more of the water is illuminated.  We swim all the way to the back wall and the entire cave is simply glowing, shimmering.  It’s like being inside a sapphire.  We have gone to very popular tourist destinations on this trip and encountered the expected crowds at each.  To have this experience with just a few other people is very extraordinary indeed.

We return home, thank our captain and unwind at our flat for a bit.  On an internet recommendation, we make a reservation at Bistro Sorrento (https://bistro-di-villa-caprile.business.site/), a few minutes up the mountain from the center of town and away from the tourist area.  When we walk in I introduce myself for the reservation.  “Pasquale?  Pasquale?  I’m Pasquale!  I was expecting an Italian!”  I explain to him that at home, I’m Italian, here I’m American.  The restaurant is elegantly modern, lots of white and concealed lighting with a cool vibe.  The architectural equivalent to a linen suit on a summer day.  We pick a table with a view of the compact and spotless open plan kitchen.  Pasquale explains that his son is the chef and his other son is picking up some patrons right now.  We start with the cheese platter, all selections local.  It is simply the most beautiful of its kind we have ever seen, prepared right in front of us with such amazing care and attention to detail that we just look at it for a bit.  The show continues as we watch Chef, with the help of only one sous chef, make dish after dish with the same delicate touch.  Calm and professional, we watch him make about 100 separate dishes, including our own unbelievable steak entrée.  After such an amazing day, we are again blown away.  When we ask our waiter to call a cab for us, he walks us out front, puts us in his Audi convertible and drives us back to town himself.

Ten days into a trip full of highlights, we’re most impressed that Italy can still impress us. 

Italy Day 9 – Backdrop Capri

If you’ve ever wondered why Italians are so excitable, so quick to temper and gesture so wildly with their hands when they talk, the answer is simple.  It’s the coffee.  In any given everyday situation, there is a big espresso machine within 10 meters.  Waiting for the morning train?  Uno cappuccino!  Talking to the postman?  Uno caffe!  If Starbucks is a culture back home, caffe is the DNA here, bred into generations on the molecular level.  And we gladly start our morning like the natives.  I’m guessing there will be DTs on the first few mornings back.

We’re staying right at the marina, so taking the ferry to Capri is as easy as Italy makes anything.  Just figure out which of the bewilderingly marked ticket window to stand at first.  No sooner than we get on the ferry to Capri, then a weathered expat Brit starts making his pitch to get onto another boat when we get there.  Capri provides the perfect backdrop for this day of our movie-like vacation.  Breakfast in an outdoor café then we board our two hour tour around the island (for those of you keeping score, I’m definitely Gilligan in this episode, with the role or Maryanne played by Mandy).  The tour is great with the skipper putting the large craft into caves openings rocky passes with just inches of clearance.   We see several of the famous grottos, the most interesting one being the White Grotto, where a rock really does look like the Blessed Mother with her arms down and open.  Mussolini’s house on one of the highest peaks is impressive in that it’s built on a natural bridge atop an astonishing fissure.

Back on land, we skip the line for the funicular and take the long winding stairs to the center of the village at the top.  We find a nice table in the shade, start with more caffe and then move onto some daydrinking.  Here it’s called apertivo, and if you call it that you don’t have to attend meetings.  Mandy orders the Capri Spritz, a take on the traditional Aperol Spritz using the regions’ famous limoncello (yes Gypsies, Mandy got the recipe for you…)  I’m in for an Italian birra or two, a universally acceptable way to spend a few hours by the sea.  We take in the scene.  Capri has a very chic vibe, beach meets runway, and in fact, during our lunch a pair of models identically dressed in flowing white cotton dresses walk by, stopping every few yards to strike a pose and silently address the crowd.  It’s a surreal moment, but lovely just the same. 

We walk back down the long staircase to the marina but somehow we got off course.  Yes, that’s right, we got lost on a staircase.  So did dozens of other tourists and we all ended up walking up (yes, uphill, still not sure why) the narrow twisty road being dodged by tiny cars and big trucks.  We hail a passing downhill bus and stuff into the already full vehicle for the final leg down. 

We take the ferry back to Sorrento.  We watch yet another spectacular sunset on our walk to dinner at L’Antica Trattoria (https://www.lanticatrattoria.com/newsite/en/) one of the town’s fine dining establishments since 1930.  The gardens are a 360 degree immersion with wisteria and grapevines serving as a roof.  We are not ones who usually notice or care about a specific table in a restaurant, but we are clearly given the best table in the house, a corner table facing out.  We assume one of two reasons:

1)    My Name – When people in Italy hear “mi chiamo Pasquale Onofrio” from an American, they get very excited. 

2)    Mandy – She looks stunning in her form fitting black dress and black and white polka dot scarf (OK, it’s probably this one)

We have four course pre fixe meals and Mandy’s lemon pasta is some of the best we have had to date.  The fresh caught local lobster special was not only delicious, but one of the best presented plates we have ever had.  It seems like the entire staff is waiting on us and one is nicer than the next.  We end our evening with the traditional lemoncello and passeggiata back to our flat. 

Italy Day 8 – On the Way to Pompeii for the Last 45 Years

We have a very early train to Naples, Our innkeepers not only arrange for a car for us, but have an amazing breakfast delivered to our room at 5:30am.  It’s so nice to be taken care of.  High speed train clocks in at 186 smooth civilized miles per hour.  Our driver, a tall athletic woman with a flirty voice and bright blue eyes under Gold trimmed Ray Bans (not that I noticed or anything…) meets us at the station.  It’s 500 meters from the train station to the highway but takes 15 minutes.  On the highway south, it smooth sailing all the way to Pompeii, our first stop.

I was in grade school when my parents and grandfather took a month-long trip to Italy.  When they came back my father told me stories about the ancient city buried by a volcano, inhabitants and all.  He gave me brochures and photos taken with his expensive Fuji 110 that he purchased during the trip.  Oh, and this happened on August 24^th, the same day I was born.  This sounded like the most exotic thing ever and something I swore to see for myself one day, if I was lucky enough.  Today I am that lucky.  We pull up, greeted by a long line of tacky souvenir shops and pizza stands.  The shops are unchanged since my parents visited in the early 70s, with what looks to be the same weathered people selling the same weathered chachkies .  I decide we’re in for the whole throwback experience, signing up for a guided group tour instead of the self-guided audio tour, something we rarely do.  It’s hard to live up to 45 years of anticipation, but Pompeii is everything I hoped it would be, complete with preserved frescos and casts of people in their final pose.  Our guide, a young, petite Italian woman with a salmon colored umbrella, does a good job of showing us the major components and the small details that fascinate her.  For example, during its prime, there are 40 bakeries in the city.  There are also 120 brothels.  Priorities, priorities, priorities.  We tour one of the brothels, the wall paintings still intact so that sailors from foreign lands could order off the picture menu.

Two hours and 10,000 pictures later, we exit Pompeii and our driver magically finds us in the street out front and loads us back into the Mercedes van.  Off the highway, the roads into Sorrento are even narrower, even steeper, even crazier that any we have seen in Italy.  Now we understand why Rick Steve recommended ditching the car before we got here.  Some things are best left to the professionals.  During the last few miles, our driver calls our Airbnb host and makes arrangements, gesturing wildly with her arms while on the call.  Luigi meets us and checks us into our flat, a spacious, high ceiling corner studio with three balconies at Marina Piccolo done in bright pastel colors we associate with old Florida.  The Marina docks dozens of large personal craft, none less than 30’, and is the hub for tourist travel with no fewer than six ferry lines run from these docks.  We have lunch in busy main square, watch the comings and goings and get adjusted to the pace of this classic beach town. 

The main walking street in Sorrento is Corso Italia, a wide pedestrian thoroughfare with shops and restaurants.  Corso Italia functions as the boardwalk does in a New Jersey shore town.  Paralleling the Corso on either side are the incredibly narrow alleys found in every town built into the hillsides in Italy lined with shops, hotels and restaurants ranging from the cheap to the exclusive.  We have fun getting lost in the maze and emerge at the edge of Sorrento, a bluff high above the sea with a stunning panoramic view.  Light dinner on the “boardwalk” at an Enoteca (wine shop with tastings) that served a few very nice local dishes.  We watch as tourists and locals alike take their passeggiata, the traditional Italian stroll to end an evening.