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Published: March 17th 2008
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Two contrasting days in Campania (half way down Italy on the left hand side).
First day is a trip down the Amalfi coast, which sounds vaguely Greek because it was Greek for such a long time. You have to keep reminding yourself that Italy has only been a single nation for a relatively short time and the regional differences were forged over a couple of thousand years so Neo Polis becomes Napoli becomes Naples so then does Adelphi become Amalfi. It is the geography that does it. The villages along the coast cling gamely to the cliff faces and each flat piece of land is precious. Some so precious it seems that it belonged to the gods (and still does) other than that what is left over was and is cultivated with cash crops that served as tribute first to any marauders later the Greeks and after them the Romans and now presumably the tax man.
Driving in Italy continues to astound me, young people on scooters content to test their invincibility and older people crossing the road with an air of "go on hit me I dare you". We follow the road from the hotel through a never ending series
of switch backs driven at speeds that are better suited to monte Carlo on race day. Moya has found that the back seat allows her to slide from one side to another at every bend, she is either letting out whoops of joy or is just plain terrified, Gerry brethes by taking short sharp intakes of breath and exhaling while swearing like a sailor.
Crossing the high point of the peninsular we start on the jopurney along the coast which is rightly famous for its stunning scenery and still more houses clinging to the cliff face. Moya is anxious to check the local plumbing so we stop at what seems to be a bar but is actually a B & B, The owner advises that she is welcome to inspect but it is a climb of another 100 or so steps!
We stop to admire the scenery and marvel at the cyclists who ride these roads on the weekend, god only knows what the fatality rates are on these roads but I am yet to see a car more than a few months old that is not damaged in some way
We stop at Amalfi for lunch which is pretty
well yesterday's fish, it is sad that we now more or less expect that restaurants in such places will happily serve sub standard food and so that is what we get.
Increasingly I am getting the feeling that we are not seeing Italy at all rather we are being fed a diet of experiences that the Italians think Americans want. We do however stumble across a paper museum which is a real surprise, dating from the 13th century and in continuous production until the 1960's it is almost tragic that this is now a museum, albeit a working one. The village is basically built over a river which used to power 50 mills, now we have electricity and one museum.
From Amalfi we follow the coast before heading inland on our way back to Sorrento. In an small town I spot a patiserie and we stop for coffee and dolce. My Italian is coming on leaps and bounds and by pointing and nodding we manage to get more or less the best cakes in southern Italy.
Dinner later in the hotel is a reminder of how much hotels lose when they move away from regional cuisine but no doubt there
Main Street Amalfi
Bikes, scooters and cars vie with pedestrians here are plenty who love it. When I wonder did the magic of travelling to new and foreign (in the best sense of the word) lands get overtaken by this universal striving for arty mediocrity?
The ham they serve at breakfast is in thin sheets cut by machine from a pressed square moulded deli ham, probably from Denmark. The same ham is grilled and served with eggs if you want, breakfast cereal is corn bloody flakes and coco effing pops! the yoghurt is in plastic tubs. This is a four star hotel and in many ways about as Italian as apple pie.
Next morning we make an early start optimistically hoping to visit Capri in the morning and the crater of Vesuvious in the late afternoon. S o we drive to Sorrento and climb the 2,000 steps down to the warfe in time to catch the 8.25 ferry that leaves bang on time at 8.40! We are soon at the Isola di Capris and despite what some of the gushing guide books will tell you it is reaaly past its use by date.
The whole area infact from Sorrento to the coast and on Capris is a faded copy of what
Home sweet ...
Not a place where you want to forget the milk! it once must have been.
On Capris at least some of the streets are closed to vehicles and so it is possible to walk without the risk of being hit by a car or scooter but still the experience is more Italyland than Italy. We ride the funicular from the marina to the town of Capris and then catch a bus along the most life endangering road outside Iraq to reach Anacapris, the other village on the island.
It is palm sunday and the the streets are full of predominantly women and children carrying Olive branches with bread sweets and cheese attached. The streets are crowded around the church and we melt through the crowds following the narrow pathways which are capturing the warm sun and for a moment the veneer of tourist town lifts. We find a bus stop to get us back to the marina but tragically it is opposite a pastry shop so we miss the bus while I buy more sweet canoli. In great Italian Tradition I am served by one woman who passes my order to the wrapper who calls out the items to another woman on the till who takes my money while the entire proceedings are watched by a chap sitting towards the back.
We sit in the sun in the piazza St Nicole and eat our pastries in the sun, hard not to be impressed!
Bus back to the funicular and on to the warfe for a quick lunch of beer and pizza before catching the 13.30 ferry which sadly leaves at 13.20 without us. The next is at 13.15 which sadly puts Vesuvious off the agenda so we mope around for an hour or so before heading back to the mainland.
The Trattoria Tritone in Massa Lubrense is the best place we have found to eat at and so after a restorative nap we load into the car so I can terrify Moya once more.
Dinner is both enjoyable, reasonably not too blandified and although we are the only customers on this out of seaso palm Sunday we enjoy our last Italian supper before heading back to the Hotel for a nightcap.
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