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Published: August 28th 2006
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Ciao ciao, my darlings! You cannot know the intoxicating feeling of writing some stuff off the top of my head (infused, of course, with enthusiasm and bliss) and having you read it and share it with me. Everyone should have a blog!
Back to Sant 'Angello...
After checking in, Neal and Janelle and I decided to walk into Sorrento. We walked on back roads to avoid the major traffic, and saw beautiful views of the ocean (down down down high cliffs), charming neighbourhoods, people walking their dogs, hot sun on green trees, lemons, palms, flowering trees. We serendipitously happened upon the Lemon Garden - an oasis in the midst of town, behind walls, down a path... a lemon grove - hot, dry, but quiet, green, covered in fruit at every stage - green on the trees, dripping yellow off the trees - heavy and ripe - huge and knobby, blackened on the ground. There were some benches on the path, and at the end a stand selling limoncello (and many other flavours - orange, licorice, hazelnut, etc., etc.) under the trees. Beautiful displays of all sorts of bottles - the shape of Italia, violins, ladies in dresses, the shape
Dinner at Taverna Rosa
Dinner with Neal and Janelle in Sant 'Angello (our favourite place!) of costly perfume bottles... We tested some (of course!) and they were sooooo good on a hot, dusty day.
After a break in the lemon grove, we continued on to town. Sorrento is a beautiful, busy town full of scooters dashing wildly between trucks and cars, pedestrians impatiently walking - almost pushing - their way down and across the streets, busses full of tourists, busses full of locals, palm trees, lovely old hotels and restaurants circling the town square... and yet there is something so soothing about it all. The air is warm, the people sitting at the cafe tables are smiling and talking loudly with their hands, the buildings are coloured warm terracottas and yellows, the flowers bulging off the wrought iron decks and palm trees are glorious. Each angle, each direction I turn is a new bend, a new intersection in recognizing what this country is.
We accidently come across a great street market (all these wonderful accidental findings!) The stores facing into the alley each have tables or racks in the alley, full of wonderful handmade shoes (shoes are an Italian religion - for good reason. I'm a convert!) - burgundy, red, black, brown, white
Discovering Italy
Can you figure out which fixture of Italian bathrooms I have just discovered? - jewellry, leather bags and jackets (soft, soft, soft - I can't stop touching them), tablecloths (I can imagine my table set with them at home and cannot help but buy them), lace, scarves (red, burgundy, blue, light blue, green, cream, black - streams of colour)... the streamers of green, white, red, Italy's flag overhead, the spray paint on the cobblestone announcing the World Cup win. I love this place. I never want to go to a mall again.
Janelle suggests the bus back to the hotel, and we are grateful for the break. My amazingly toned thighs and well-formed calves have earned it. Ahem.
We decide on dinner at the place Paulo suggested - Taverna Rosa just up the street from our hotel. It is in a building right on the edge of the cobblestone, with windows that open to the street, rustic yellow paint and art on the walls. The dark wood tables have large benches for seats, tablecloths. We read each menu entry, sighing and trying to decide amongst the many amazing dishes, not wanting to miss something incredible. I decide on "chicken chest in lemon sauce" (this makes us giggle, and then giggle again),
Breakfast at Hotel Angelina
Neal and me enjoying our scrumptious breakfast! grilled marinated vegetables (zucchini and eggplant, served chilled), and we share a jug of the local red wine. The meal is so good we eat slowly, savouring each bite, trying to figure out each ingredient so we can recreate the dishes at home, eat together, serve the meal on a tablecloth bought in the town's market, remember this night and its sensations. I will remember my tired, sweaty skin, and how satisfying the cool breeze was, the refreshing water and wine, the great conversation that came so easily, so happily.
We linger over dinner, then wander home to our sweet hotel for a great, well-earned sleep. I hardly read a line in my book and I am sleeping, don't remember turning out the light...
The morning brings a breakfast I am glad I got up for (and you may know how I detest mornings!) Our server wore a white coat and brought us jugs of espresso and foamed milk to mix our own cappucinos in the bright sun of the breakfast room. This is a ritual I will be recreating at home. Anyone know a server with a white coat looking for a job up north??
Breakfast
Lemon Trees out the Window
My room at Hotel Angelina - with a view of the lemon trees. was amazing... fruit (different every morning) came with leaves and sometimes branches still attached, warm from the sun, picked just for me! (or at least that's what it felt like) oranges, kiwi, plums, peaches... tasted SO good and perfectly ripe. I close my eyes and devour peaches and plums, more than I need... but I can't stop myself... they are so fresh and sweet... brioche (croissants) - chocolate, apricot, raspberry - chocolate chip loaf, still warm from the oven, freshly squeezed orange juice - dark orange, thick, sweet, cold, ohhh - fresh amazing buns, a mild sourdough with butter and fragola (strawberry) jam. I am intense about the buns and take another before I am even finished the first. Neal suggests I am nervous that Janelle will eat it before I get it! How embarrassing (but true - these buns are so good they make me nervous).
We linger over breakfast (as over every meal) and head for a bus trip along the coastline. For only 2.60 Euros ($4.00 cdn) we board this great bus and head for Positano and Amalfi. The road is windy, narrow, frightening, exhilirating! Both Positano and Amalfi are so appealing with beautiful gardens and lovely terraces overlooking the water. They are oddly symmetrical, built in strange, uneven rows on cliffs over the sea, somehow perfectly fitting together. As the bus driver honks and drives wildly through the tunnels and around the curves, the buildings look vulnerable, as if they will tip, slowly, slowly, tumbling into the sea. I kneel on my seat, and click through a whole roll of film out the open window.
As we pull into Amalfi I see Rod Stewart. He doesn't see me - I'm on the bus - but I see, first, his hair (straw), his white pants and turquoise shirt, the blond beside him, taller. The bus pulls into town and by the time I am off, he is gone.
We have time only to catch our hydrofoil to Capri - a disappointment to miss exploring the town, but Capri will be worth it. It's hard to see from the boat, but the cliffs of Capri tower beside us.
Capri's buildings and harbour look similar to Amalfi... the sea is dark blue, deep green, the colour of lemonade... We take a cable car up behind the harbour to the town of Capri, past lemon trees and bright flowers...
I must go, but will continue with Capri soon :-)
Right now I'm on another adventure - in Quesnel! In my room I'm pretending I'm in Europe as I wait for Canadian Tire to open so I can get my car fixed and head home to Hazelton.
Thanks for reading!
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Liberty
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Heaven
Wow. That sounds like heaven on earth. What a beautiful entry and the images created by it are intoxicating. Except for the Canadian Tire part... Keep writing. Miss you lots