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Published: June 16th 2009
Everyone raves about the island of Capri, on the coast line near Naples, like its the most blessed place on earth. I thought, ok, must be cool. So we checked it out on a sunny morning via ferry from Amalfi.
Scenically, yes, its lovely. But then again, its nothing more spectacular than the coastline of the mainland. The big difference is, of course, that its an island, and islands draw a number of people including: tourists looking for day trip places that will sound exotic on postcards they send home to relatives sitting behind office desks; rich people who need outlets to spend exhorbitant amounts of dirty money and a preferably small place where they can find like-funded brand wearers; and famous people who, well, I don't know any famous people.
Capri is their place. Its small, its sunny, its so overpriced that you voluntarily un-learn all mathematical conversion skills you have in order to avoid heart attacks. There's two Prada boutiques, D&G and a plethora of other very expensive designer stores for the hordes of young American high society who decided they wanted a change from the Hamptons this vacation. Amongst all of these are jewellers who's bling is so massive and so in-your-face that not even rich, Pimms sipping Indians would put them on their elephants.
If you haven't gotten the picture yet, let me say I'm gagging in plastic surgery, ego and Ralph Lauren's stupid polo horse. What a terrible place to spend a holiday.
I'm on the earliest boat back out, which, coincidentally, doesn't leave until the end of the day. Arrive in the morning, leave in the evening. They'd have a mass exodus about 10am every day if they did it any other way.
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