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Europe » Italy » Campania » Sorrento
August 8th 2017
Published: August 9th 2017
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The alarm goes off at 3.45am. Perhaps unsurprisingly there doesn't seem to be a lot going on in Assos at this time of the morning. We head off on the long and windy road back to the airport. The mountain goats seem to like standing in the middle of the road even more at this time of the morning, and the black ones in particular are very hard to see. We pass the lookout where we got stunning views down over Myrtos Beach a few days ago. There’s a man standing there next to his car in the pitch darkness looking at the view. I'm not sure what he can see. Maybe he's got some of those night vision goggles that they use in the movies. I thought they were only good for detecting people; I'm not sure how they'd go at spotting beaches in the far distance.

The signposting on the road isn't very good, and we suddenly find ourselves on a dirt track about to drive into the harbour. A bit further on it seems that we‘ve missed a turn. We’re running very late, but instead of getting closer to the airport we find ourselves in a narrow laneway in the middle of a small village. The airport covers a big area and we wonder why we’re having so much trouble finding it. Issy says that we should use the GPS on the phone. I've heard stories about what happens if you turn the GPS on your phone on when you're far from home, and most of them involve bills for thousands of dollars. We turn it on anyway, as just at the moment a large bill somehow feels like a better option than missing our flight.

The rental car office is down a dark alley in a village next to the airport. I park the car at the end of the alley, but there's no one in the office, and nowhere to leave the keys. The person at the airport information counter suggests leaving them under the mat in the front seat. I think that this is a really bad idea. I'm sure if we do this the car will get stolen and we‘ll then have to pay to get it replaced. We might also get arrested for stealing it and end up in jail. We try to ring the hire car company. The call’s answered by an elderly sounding lady who doesn't speak any English. It seems that I’ve dialled the wrong number. It‘s 5am and I suspect this poor person probably thinks that I'm ringing her to tell her that someone’s died. A few minutes later and the rental car office is now open. Disaster averted.

We’ve noticed that smoking seems to be very popular in Greece. Athens airport has smoking rooms - small areas completely surrounded by glass. … and they’re all jam packed with people, all of whom are smoking. The rooms look like display cases at a museum, although in this case it's quite hard to see the exhibits through the fumes.

We arrive in Rome and catch a bus to the train station for our trip down to Naples. Our bus driver seems to be in a big hurry. He drives a few metres behind the cars in front with his hand on the horn, waves his arms a lot and utters expletives in Italian; at least they sound like expletives. I think hurriedness, chaos and yelling expletives might be a chracteristic of life here. The Naples train station is totally chaotic. We try to find where our train to Sorrento might leave from by following signs to a seemingly non-existent information booth. We ask people for help, but none of them seem to speak English. We hope the packed and ridiculously hot train we board might take us where we want to go, but it’s hard to be sure….

We arrive in Sorrento and take the short walk from the station to where we think the hotel should be. It looked very obvious on the map, but now we can't find it. I leave Issy guarding the luggage while I do some more searching. I find the hotel, but now I have to try to remember where I left Issy.….

Our room is on the top floor and we have great views from our large balcony over the Bay of Naples and towards Mount Vesuvius, which is the first of the three volcanoes we plan to climb during this trip.

We‘re too tired to go out for dinner so we head for the hotel restaurant. Our hotel is very old style and opulent, and it looks like it’s been here for a long time. The waiters are all decked out in tuxedos and bow ties. We ask for a table for two, and then quickly sense that all is not well. The waiter we speak to disappears and comes back with the maitre d', who tells me that because I'm wearing shorts I can't sit in the restaurant. He guides us to a table outside, behind the main eating area. We‘re the only people sitting here, and it seems that we have suddenly become second class citizens. Issy says that this is all my fault. She says that she is appropriately dressed, so why should she be relegated to the second class seats just because I can't be bothered dressing up. I think I'm in serious trouble, but I'm too hot, tired and hungry to care. We‘re eventually joined by some other couples, and the men are all invariably wearing shorts. We now feel part of a community of second class citizens and I feel part of a club of husbands who are in trouble with their wives. The waiter asks me which of the fine wines on the menu I‘ll be drinking tonight. I tell him that I‘d like a large beer followed very quickly by another one. I'm sensing that if there was a section for third class citizens we'd be about to be moved into it…..

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