The Bride's Having Second Thoughts?

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I had a big day yesterday climbing volcanoes, well one volcano anyway, so we sleep in and decide on a relaxing day.

We head into a shopping area near the hotel and Issy spies a Japanese restaurant. I think this might be the first one she's seen since we left home. The drool starts to appear at the corners of her mouth. It seems that it's closed now. I manage to stop her from breaking down the door, but I'm fairly sure we'll be back here later, and there might be violence if it's not open then. It seems someone before us may have had similar thoughts. A large area outside the restaurant is wrapped in police tape, and multiple members of the constabulary are in attendance. We briefly consider asking one of them what's happened here, but we don't want to risk them thinking we might have done it, whatever "it" might be.

We walk on through Piazza Tasso to the viewing point for a disused sawmill at the bottom of a very deep and steep sided gorge, which it seems is inaccessible on foot, and probably also by most other means, aside perhaps from ropes and helicopters. The mill's surrounded by lush ferns and other greenery, and is in stark contrast to the chaos of Piazza Tasso which is only about fifty metres away. Google says that it hasn't been used for more than a thousand years. It looks old, but I'm not sure it looks quite that old.

Next stop is Parco di Villa Fiorentino - a very picturesque and peaceful park surrounding a large villa. There's an impressive photography exhibition in some of the villa's old outbuildings which were apparently once part of a farm on the site.

We head down towards the waterfront. It seems that Sorrento is the sort of place where all the locals know each other. A man strolling along the footpath sees someone he recognises driving along the main street in his car in heavy traffic, and he yells out to him. The car then stops in the middle of the one lane one way street so they can have a chat. The traffic banks up, and the drivers all blow their horns and wave their arms. The conversation goes on for a few minutes and the car eventually moves on. This all seems totally natural, including all the horn blowing and arm waving. There'd undoubtedly be violence if anyone tried this in a busy street back home.

We have lunch down on the beachfront at Marina Grande. The small beach is again jam packed with sunlounges and umbrellas, with little or no room to walk between them. I guess if there was a fire you could at least just head into the water.

We walk back up the hill past the Convento di San Francesco. There's another wedding in progress, and again the happy couple is English. This leaves us wondering whether anyone from anywhere else ever ties the knot here. We look on as the couple climb into a horse drawn carriage, and are carted away to a life of wedded bliss. We stroll the kilometre or so from the Convent back to our hotel, and as we're about to walk in we spy the same horse drawn carriage with bride and groom in tow cruising past along the street in front of us. Issy says "congratulations" and the bride says "thanks". The groom doesn't say anything. We wonder where they're going. Presumably they should be going to the reception, but they seem to be heading back towards the Convent. I hope the driver's not lost or that he's having a bit of trouble steering the horse. The groom doesn't look overly happy, and he didn't look too happy coming out of the convent either. We hope they're not having second thoughts. It would be a bit sad if they were heading back to the Convent to tell their guests that they can have their presents back.

This is our last day in Sorrento, so we decide to spend the afternoon relaxing by the pool.

Issy asks if we can go to the Japanese restaurant tonight, but this is more of a statement than a question, and if I want to stay married I think that there's only one possible response. We approach it with trepidation. If it's closed there will be violence, but the lights are on so it seems that all will be well with the world tonight. The beer comes in hour glass shaped receptacles. This means that when you've drunk half the rest gets stuck in the bottom, and then comes out in a surge, so I've now got beer all over my shirt. The waiters are all very quiet and serious, and Issy says that she's not feeling brave enough to ask one of them if she can get her picture taken with him.

The police tape around the crime scene outside has been removed. There are no obvious signs of blood on the ground, so the mystery remains.

We head into town in search of a bar to get some limoncello. It comes out in slightly worryingly large glasses with small handles. It's our last night here so we decide to brave it and order another round before staggering back to the hotel.

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