Friday, September 28, 2007
Rome update 2
Jane's umbrella hex worked! We had just a short shower, yesterday, which we weathered in the shelter of the Pantheon. We did a large loop, on foot, through Rome, which we will partially repeat today. Had an excellent lunch in the Camp de Fiori and made a few nice images there as well.
This morning there are intermittent showers; we got caught in one as we passed the American Embassy, on the Via Veneto; but it was brief and Jane is waving her umbrella around and chanting incantations. We'll see if it works twice.
You have to be careful waving umbrellas in this city, you're likely to attract a disconnected tour group.
We'll cut the day short, today, we have to pack for our 6:15 am departure from the hotel. Our flight leaves at 10:00 am and if luck holds, we'll be back in Orange County at 8:30 pm
This morning there are intermittent showers; we got caught in one as we passed the American Embassy, on the Via Veneto; but it was brief and Jane is waving her umbrella around and chanting incantations. We'll see if it works twice.
You have to be careful waving umbrellas in this city, you're likely to attract a disconnected tour group.
We'll cut the day short, today, we have to pack for our 6:15 am departure from the hotel. Our flight leaves at 10:00 am and if luck holds, we'll be back in Orange County at 8:30 pm
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Rome update!
So far, no rain!
It's partly cloudy and cool, but the sun's out and it's quite pleasant. 9:45 am and we're headed for the Piazza Navona. We plan to spend the entire day just walking Rome. Jane brought her umbrella on the theory that if she carried it, the rain wouldn't happen; if she left it behind, there would be a deluge. Stay tuned!
It's partly cloudy and cool, but the sun's out and it's quite pleasant. 9:45 am and we're headed for the Piazza Navona. We plan to spend the entire day just walking Rome. Jane brought her umbrella on the theory that if she carried it, the rain wouldn't happen; if she left it behind, there would be a deluge. Stay tuned!
On to Rome
With regrets, we left Florence today. We are now in the worst hotel on the edge of the best section of Rome! A few blocks away are the Savoy, the Westin, the Regina and several others of Rome’s best hotels. We’re in the Priscilla. Two large airmail stamps could cover the portion of the floor not already covered by the bed. However, this room is larger than the combined space of both rooms we had at the Atlantico, just six days ago! And, we are together.
We hoped that the last three days of our trip would give us an opportunity to get a better look at Rome than we had in 2005. Then, the weather conspired against us and it looks as though that will happen again. The forecast for tomorrow and Friday is rain!
The best I can say for this hotel is that the bed is soft, (by Italian standards – limestone instead of granite) and the shower is good. The website advertised Internet availability; this was overstating the case. The availability is two blocks away at an Internet café that has just two working computers that are old enough to have grandchildren; and no wireless connection. I tried to configure an ADSL connection, but the manager didn’t know their DHCP client I.D., so the effort was fruitless. I’ll try, tomorrow, to find a wireless Internet point.
It’s hard to believe that the weather, tomorrow, will be as bad as predicted; today was beautiful. We walked to Spanish Steps, then Trevi Fountain. Jane insisted on tossing a coin in the fountain; she’s an incurable romantic.
The crowds are huge. I guess tourist season is 12 months a year. We’re in this terrible hotel because there are no rooms. Six days ago, after finding the room in Florence, I searched for a room in Rome. I probably wouldn’t have sprung for the Savoy or the Regina, but I might have gone for the Westin; I didn’t have the option, there were no rooms. I was on the verge of giving up when I found this. The photo on the website looked bright and airy – they lied! You don’t want to be suicidal if you check into a room like this; it will push you over the edge!
We hoped that the last three days of our trip would give us an opportunity to get a better look at Rome than we had in 2005. Then, the weather conspired against us and it looks as though that will happen again. The forecast for tomorrow and Friday is rain!
The best I can say for this hotel is that the bed is soft, (by Italian standards – limestone instead of granite) and the shower is good. The website advertised Internet availability; this was overstating the case. The availability is two blocks away at an Internet café that has just two working computers that are old enough to have grandchildren; and no wireless connection. I tried to configure an ADSL connection, but the manager didn’t know their DHCP client I.D., so the effort was fruitless. I’ll try, tomorrow, to find a wireless Internet point.
It’s hard to believe that the weather, tomorrow, will be as bad as predicted; today was beautiful. We walked to Spanish Steps, then Trevi Fountain. Jane insisted on tossing a coin in the fountain; she’s an incurable romantic.
The crowds are huge. I guess tourist season is 12 months a year. We’re in this terrible hotel because there are no rooms. Six days ago, after finding the room in Florence, I searched for a room in Rome. I probably wouldn’t have sprung for the Savoy or the Regina, but I might have gone for the Westin; I didn’t have the option, there were no rooms. I was on the verge of giving up when I found this. The photo on the website looked bright and airy – they lied! You don’t want to be suicidal if you check into a room like this; it will push you over the edge!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Il Latini
One of Florence’s best-known restaurants is Il Latini. Until recently, they didn’t accept reservations and the lines to get in were legendary; but one of the waiters at Donnini told me that they were now taking reservations. Just before noon, yesterday, we were in the area of the restaurant and walked over to see if we could get a table for dinner.
As we arrived, they opened the door for lunch. There were at least 30 people waiting in line. After the crowd was admitted, I approached the maitre’d and asked if it was possible to make a reservation for dinner.
“How many in your party?”
“Two.”
“And what time would you like?”
“7:30, please.”
“The name?”
“Kennedy;” I started the spell it out “K-e-n-n;” but he interrupted me.
“Kennedy, such a famous name.”
“Not the same family, I’m afraid.” He walked to the desk, but wrote nothing down. I hesitated at the door for a moment and he turned to me and said; “you are fine for seven-thirty.”
The whole exchange was quite friendly, even jovial and I wasn’t certain if he might not be putting me on. It seemed too easy. I hoped we had a reservation, but I wasn’t entirely certain.
We decided to give ourselves a little wiggle room and arrived at 7:10 (the doors don’t open until 7:30), there was a crowd of at least seventy people packed into the alley in front of the entrance. After a few moments of listening and asking, I determined that many people had reservations and many didn’t. I left Jane at the edge of the crowd and worked my way as close to the entrance as I could. The door opened at precisely 7:30 and the same maitre’d stepped out. People began calling out names; some held up cards, or pieces of paper, with their names written on them.
In the same jovial manner as earlier, he began letting people in and assured the crowd that those with reservations would be fine. After a few moments, he looked at me.
“Kennedy”, and I held up two fingers. He snapped me a salute and said; “Ah, Mr. President, your table is ready!”
He helped part the crowd, as he had for others before us, so that Jane could get through, and we were in!
We were taken to a rectangular table, set for six and within seconds, were joined by two other couples.
The setting is rustic. The simple wooden refectory tables are arranged to form seating for four, six, or eight, determined by the space in that part of the room. There are three barrel-ceilinged dinning rooms and hanging from those ceilings are rows of aged hams. About eight feet from the floor is a simple wooden shelf that holds the restaurants extensive array of wines. The bottles are stored standing, two deep. Stored in this manner, they clearly move quickly.
Our waiter arrived and he informed the table that he recommended the house antipasto, which offered a sampling of several dishes. With our unanimous agreement, the dishes began to arrive.
First came a liver pate`, on crustini, along with a bruschetta. I’m not a fan of liver, but I wasn’t passing up anything. It was delicious! As was the bruschetta. Before we were even well into the first offering, a plate with 8-10 slices of the prosciutto was placed in front of each of us. Followed quickly by a Spelt salad and an insalata caprese. The antipasto was a meal in itself!
The room was lively; waiters moved quickly, distributing armloads of dishes. Each array of tables has a magnum of house wine, Chianti, that comes with the meal, but many diners order from the wine list. I ordered a 1998 Brunello di Montalcino. The conversation level in the room was already a din, as strangers, thrown together, became friends, if just for an evening.
The antipasti gone, the waiter gave our options for the first course. There is no written menu at the table; the waiter tells you what’s offered and you choose. There were four pasta dishes, gnocchi and tomato and white bean soup. Jane loved the gnocchi, I could have made a meal of the soup; it was that good!
With the preliminaries concluded, it was time for the difficult choices.
The restaurant was founded, 50 years ago, by Narcisso Latini, to provide good, hearty, affordable meals to the locals. The list of entrees continues to reflect the restaurant’s humble beginnings. The offerings on this night include sausages, chicken, rabbit, lamb, veal; and of course, beef. Jane, no surprise, ordered the rabbit. The beef tempted me; a house specialty that’s a local legend, but I was concerned that it might be more than I could finish. My suspicions were confirmed when, a few moments after ordering the nearly-as-famous pan-fried lamb, a serving of the steak went by our table. Had it been any larger, it might have required two waiters to transport it to the soon-to-be corpulent diner.
The break between the first and second courses allowed us a chance to concentrate on the Brunello. It didn’t disappoint. Though perhaps a little heavy for the rabbit, it was perfect for the lamb. (Jane says it was perfect for the rabbit, too.)
When our entrée arrived, the aroma alone was worth the price. Jane’s rabbit was a light golden hue, moist and perfectly seasoned. My lamb was the best I’ve ever tasted and I’m pretty proud of my own version! It fell off the bone and melted in my mouth. There were no seasonings on the table. None were necessary.
I devoured every edible morsel of my lamb, and then polished off the remains of Jane’s rabbit. I didn’t think there was room for another gram of food; but then the waiter announced the dessert menu; I dug deep and found space.
In my world, no meal is complete without fruit and the raspberry cake was singing a sirens song! The cake was accompanied by an excellent Vin Santo and a plate of biscotti; a few moments later, a glass of Muscat to cleanse the palate.
Perhaps the biggest shock of the evening was the bill. Like a junkie, I would have paid any price, but the total cost of the meal, not including the wine, was just 80 Euro!
Il Latini will probably never win a star; the rustic setting and lack of formality in the staff, doesn’t suit Michelin’s style. But, if I’ve ever had a better meal and a more enjoyable dining experience, my memory fails to recall the occasion.
As we arrived, they opened the door for lunch. There were at least 30 people waiting in line. After the crowd was admitted, I approached the maitre’d and asked if it was possible to make a reservation for dinner.
“How many in your party?”
“Two.”
“And what time would you like?”
“7:30, please.”
“The name?”
“Kennedy;” I started the spell it out “K-e-n-n;” but he interrupted me.
“Kennedy, such a famous name.”
“Not the same family, I’m afraid.” He walked to the desk, but wrote nothing down. I hesitated at the door for a moment and he turned to me and said; “you are fine for seven-thirty.”
The whole exchange was quite friendly, even jovial and I wasn’t certain if he might not be putting me on. It seemed too easy. I hoped we had a reservation, but I wasn’t entirely certain.
We decided to give ourselves a little wiggle room and arrived at 7:10 (the doors don’t open until 7:30), there was a crowd of at least seventy people packed into the alley in front of the entrance. After a few moments of listening and asking, I determined that many people had reservations and many didn’t. I left Jane at the edge of the crowd and worked my way as close to the entrance as I could. The door opened at precisely 7:30 and the same maitre’d stepped out. People began calling out names; some held up cards, or pieces of paper, with their names written on them.
In the same jovial manner as earlier, he began letting people in and assured the crowd that those with reservations would be fine. After a few moments, he looked at me.
“Kennedy”, and I held up two fingers. He snapped me a salute and said; “Ah, Mr. President, your table is ready!”
He helped part the crowd, as he had for others before us, so that Jane could get through, and we were in!
We were taken to a rectangular table, set for six and within seconds, were joined by two other couples.
The setting is rustic. The simple wooden refectory tables are arranged to form seating for four, six, or eight, determined by the space in that part of the room. There are three barrel-ceilinged dinning rooms and hanging from those ceilings are rows of aged hams. About eight feet from the floor is a simple wooden shelf that holds the restaurants extensive array of wines. The bottles are stored standing, two deep. Stored in this manner, they clearly move quickly.
Our waiter arrived and he informed the table that he recommended the house antipasto, which offered a sampling of several dishes. With our unanimous agreement, the dishes began to arrive.
First came a liver pate`, on crustini, along with a bruschetta. I’m not a fan of liver, but I wasn’t passing up anything. It was delicious! As was the bruschetta. Before we were even well into the first offering, a plate with 8-10 slices of the prosciutto was placed in front of each of us. Followed quickly by a Spelt salad and an insalata caprese. The antipasto was a meal in itself!
The room was lively; waiters moved quickly, distributing armloads of dishes. Each array of tables has a magnum of house wine, Chianti, that comes with the meal, but many diners order from the wine list. I ordered a 1998 Brunello di Montalcino. The conversation level in the room was already a din, as strangers, thrown together, became friends, if just for an evening.
The antipasti gone, the waiter gave our options for the first course. There is no written menu at the table; the waiter tells you what’s offered and you choose. There were four pasta dishes, gnocchi and tomato and white bean soup. Jane loved the gnocchi, I could have made a meal of the soup; it was that good!
With the preliminaries concluded, it was time for the difficult choices.
The restaurant was founded, 50 years ago, by Narcisso Latini, to provide good, hearty, affordable meals to the locals. The list of entrees continues to reflect the restaurant’s humble beginnings. The offerings on this night include sausages, chicken, rabbit, lamb, veal; and of course, beef. Jane, no surprise, ordered the rabbit. The beef tempted me; a house specialty that’s a local legend, but I was concerned that it might be more than I could finish. My suspicions were confirmed when, a few moments after ordering the nearly-as-famous pan-fried lamb, a serving of the steak went by our table. Had it been any larger, it might have required two waiters to transport it to the soon-to-be corpulent diner.
The break between the first and second courses allowed us a chance to concentrate on the Brunello. It didn’t disappoint. Though perhaps a little heavy for the rabbit, it was perfect for the lamb. (Jane says it was perfect for the rabbit, too.)
When our entrée arrived, the aroma alone was worth the price. Jane’s rabbit was a light golden hue, moist and perfectly seasoned. My lamb was the best I’ve ever tasted and I’m pretty proud of my own version! It fell off the bone and melted in my mouth. There were no seasonings on the table. None were necessary.
I devoured every edible morsel of my lamb, and then polished off the remains of Jane’s rabbit. I didn’t think there was room for another gram of food; but then the waiter announced the dessert menu; I dug deep and found space.
In my world, no meal is complete without fruit and the raspberry cake was singing a sirens song! The cake was accompanied by an excellent Vin Santo and a plate of biscotti; a few moments later, a glass of Muscat to cleanse the palate.
Perhaps the biggest shock of the evening was the bill. Like a junkie, I would have paid any price, but the total cost of the meal, not including the wine, was just 80 Euro!
Il Latini will probably never win a star; the rustic setting and lack of formality in the staff, doesn’t suit Michelin’s style. But, if I’ve ever had a better meal and a more enjoyable dining experience, my memory fails to recall the occasion.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Back! After Two Years
Florence! My favorite city in the world! It’s been almost two years since we last sat in Donnini, on the Piazza De la Repubblica and watched the world wander past. If you sit there long enough, you’ll see someone you know go by.
We found an Internet café, just a block from the train station and an hour-and-twenty minutes later we had a hotel. Not near the Duomo, there was no hope, they were all full. Well west of the river, near the university district; an old palazzo that’s been renovated into a hotel. A good walk to the historical district but not too bad. High, frescoed ceilings, faded, but still impressive; air-conditioning, hard Italian beds, but not as bad as Sicily’s.
We had a drink at Donnini and watched the world wander past.
After, we strolled past the Savoy, on the Via Roma, to the Borgio San Lorenzo then south, past the Basilica di San Lorenzo and on to the Piazza del Mercado Centrale, where one of our favorite restaurants is located. It was way too early to eat, but we checked the menu. No wild boar yet, next month (I guess we’ll have to come back; damn!); but there is rabbit! We’ll eat there tonight.
Florence is an old city filled with young people. Like Boston, it’s a college town. But the resemblance ends there. There are buildings, still in existence, that were built before Columbus was born. Founded in 59 BC, by Julius Caesar, it was called Florentia and almost immediately became an important commercial center. Under the influence of the Medici family, Florence became a center of commerce and wealth and its 400,000 residents still enjoy a high standard of living.
The evidence of the city’s youthful population careens past you, continuously. There are thousands upon thousands of scooters, motorbikes and motorcycles. With the exorbitant price of gas in Italy, they are the most economical form of motorized transportation; and they’re easy to park! In some areas of the city you’ll see fifty, or more, parked in a row; front wheels all turned in the same direction. But the young aren’t the only two-wheel riders in Florence. We passed an apartment building entrance, on the Via Roma and just inside, talking on her pink cell phone, was a woman who looked well into her seventies, with her scooter helmet hooked on her arm.
Once again, the Italians aren’t about form, they’re about function!
The next morning, after breakfast, we took a cab to the Piazza de la Reppublica and window-shopped our way to the Ponte Vecchio. The shops on the bridge were just beginning to open and we watched the display windows fill with gold. Gold dealers took over the shops after the Medici family banned the butchers, who originally controlled the bridge’s shops and they remain to this day.
The day was beautiful; sunny, warm, but low humidity. By ten-thirty, the streets were filled with strolling people. Not just tourists, residents as well. There are places, like the Ponte Vecchio, where tourists are much in evidence, but they don’t dominate the city, as they do in many other tourist oriented locales. In the morning, the clientele at Donnini, which has been in operation since 1894, is largely locals, reading the paper and having their cappuccino and sweet roll. And Donnini is just one of the five cafés around the Piazza de la Repubblica. Tourists fill the Savoy’s café, because they are the only people who will to pay the Savoy’s prices.
We found an Internet café, just a block from the train station and an hour-and-twenty minutes later we had a hotel. Not near the Duomo, there was no hope, they were all full. Well west of the river, near the university district; an old palazzo that’s been renovated into a hotel. A good walk to the historical district but not too bad. High, frescoed ceilings, faded, but still impressive; air-conditioning, hard Italian beds, but not as bad as Sicily’s.
We had a drink at Donnini and watched the world wander past.
After, we strolled past the Savoy, on the Via Roma, to the Borgio San Lorenzo then south, past the Basilica di San Lorenzo and on to the Piazza del Mercado Centrale, where one of our favorite restaurants is located. It was way too early to eat, but we checked the menu. No wild boar yet, next month (I guess we’ll have to come back; damn!); but there is rabbit! We’ll eat there tonight.
Florence is an old city filled with young people. Like Boston, it’s a college town. But the resemblance ends there. There are buildings, still in existence, that were built before Columbus was born. Founded in 59 BC, by Julius Caesar, it was called Florentia and almost immediately became an important commercial center. Under the influence of the Medici family, Florence became a center of commerce and wealth and its 400,000 residents still enjoy a high standard of living.
The evidence of the city’s youthful population careens past you, continuously. There are thousands upon thousands of scooters, motorbikes and motorcycles. With the exorbitant price of gas in Italy, they are the most economical form of motorized transportation; and they’re easy to park! In some areas of the city you’ll see fifty, or more, parked in a row; front wheels all turned in the same direction. But the young aren’t the only two-wheel riders in Florence. We passed an apartment building entrance, on the Via Roma and just inside, talking on her pink cell phone, was a woman who looked well into her seventies, with her scooter helmet hooked on her arm.
Once again, the Italians aren’t about form, they’re about function!
The next morning, after breakfast, we took a cab to the Piazza de la Reppublica and window-shopped our way to the Ponte Vecchio. The shops on the bridge were just beginning to open and we watched the display windows fill with gold. Gold dealers took over the shops after the Medici family banned the butchers, who originally controlled the bridge’s shops and they remain to this day.
The day was beautiful; sunny, warm, but low humidity. By ten-thirty, the streets were filled with strolling people. Not just tourists, residents as well. There are places, like the Ponte Vecchio, where tourists are much in evidence, but they don’t dominate the city, as they do in many other tourist oriented locales. In the morning, the clientele at Donnini, which has been in operation since 1894, is largely locals, reading the paper and having their cappuccino and sweet roll. And Donnini is just one of the five cafés around the Piazza de la Repubblica. Tourists fill the Savoy’s café, because they are the only people who will to pay the Savoy’s prices.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Tuscany Bound
We woke Thursday morning with a forecast for continued unseasonably hot and humid weather. Hotels in Siracusa and Catania were full and with the dollar sinking faster, against the Euro, than a torpedoed rowboat, the prices of rental cars were somewhere between absurd and sublime. The seafood in Sicily is excellent, but it features swordfish, which I can’t eat (very serious allergy) and calamari, which I’d already eaten in every conceivable manner of preparation. We needed a change!
Over breakfast we discussed our options. We needed cooler, dryer weather…… and meat! We checked out and headed for Florence.
The prospect of a dinner featuring wild boar, or rabbit (perhaps wild boar and rabbit) made the eight-and-half-hour trip to Rome bearable. A comfortable first-class car with power for my computer meant I could catch up on editing some of the hundreds of images I had yet to view. A delightful pair of sisters, from Geneva, who spoke English, made the ride even more enjoyable.
Being Swiss, they are organized and precise and were appalled to learn that we had no hotel reservations in either Rome, where we would arrive at 9:16 pm, or Florence. The younger sister was so concerned; she offered the use of her cell phone to call for reservations. Now old hands at the ‘no reservations’ route and with the large number of hotels within walking distance of Rome termini, we felt certain we’d be okay.
Wrong again!
After trudging through a succession of hotel lobbies, to no avail, the night manager at the Hotel California (no kidding) suggested the Hotel Atlantico about a block-and-a-half away. After first being told there were no rooms available, the desk clerk quizzed me as to why we would come to Rome without a booking. I explained that we were on the way to Florence, but couldn’t get a train until morning.
He stood quiet for a moment and then offered two “very small single rooms, you must looked at them first, before you accept, they are very small!”
They were more like closets than rooms. Each had a very narrow single bed and a bathroom. One bathroom included a very small shower, the other, just a toilet and sink. The irony was not lost on us; just five days earlier, we were at Le Sirenuse, in a room as big as some apartments.
Our train would leave at 8:50 in the morning; we would be here less than ten hours, for 100 Euro, total, we took the rooms!
After checking in, we went to the rooftop, outside, Garden Bar, for a nightcap. Jane ordered a Sidecar; I had a Gin Fizz; we felt like characters from 1940’s romance flick!
After finishing our drinks, we retired to our separate rooms, on separate floors – make that a 1950’s TV sitcom!
Over breakfast we discussed our options. We needed cooler, dryer weather…… and meat! We checked out and headed for Florence.
The prospect of a dinner featuring wild boar, or rabbit (perhaps wild boar and rabbit) made the eight-and-half-hour trip to Rome bearable. A comfortable first-class car with power for my computer meant I could catch up on editing some of the hundreds of images I had yet to view. A delightful pair of sisters, from Geneva, who spoke English, made the ride even more enjoyable.
Being Swiss, they are organized and precise and were appalled to learn that we had no hotel reservations in either Rome, where we would arrive at 9:16 pm, or Florence. The younger sister was so concerned; she offered the use of her cell phone to call for reservations. Now old hands at the ‘no reservations’ route and with the large number of hotels within walking distance of Rome termini, we felt certain we’d be okay.
Wrong again!
After trudging through a succession of hotel lobbies, to no avail, the night manager at the Hotel California (no kidding) suggested the Hotel Atlantico about a block-and-a-half away. After first being told there were no rooms available, the desk clerk quizzed me as to why we would come to Rome without a booking. I explained that we were on the way to Florence, but couldn’t get a train until morning.
He stood quiet for a moment and then offered two “very small single rooms, you must looked at them first, before you accept, they are very small!”
They were more like closets than rooms. Each had a very narrow single bed and a bathroom. One bathroom included a very small shower, the other, just a toilet and sink. The irony was not lost on us; just five days earlier, we were at Le Sirenuse, in a room as big as some apartments.
Our train would leave at 8:50 in the morning; we would be here less than ten hours, for 100 Euro, total, we took the rooms!
After checking in, we went to the rooftop, outside, Garden Bar, for a nightcap. Jane ordered a Sidecar; I had a Gin Fizz; we felt like characters from 1940’s romance flick!
After finishing our drinks, we retired to our separate rooms, on separate floors – make that a 1950’s TV sitcom!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Future Posts
I finally found an internet cafe, in Taormina, where I could use my own computer. Our first hotel had no internet access and the second allows only use of their computer - I was able to post a photo, but no text because their software couldn't open my files.
I will post as often as possible, going forward, but that my not be daily. The weather continues to be unseasonably hot and humid and we may modify our plans
I will post as often as possible, going forward, but that my not be daily. The weather continues to be unseasonably hot and humid and we may modify our plans
The Adventure begins
The ferry from Positano to Salerno provided us with a wonderful view of the picturesque towns of the Amalfi coast - a much better view than we would have had from the road. As a bonus, the trip took just seventy minutes, instead of at least, two-and-a-half hours.
The distance from the ferry dock to the train station is only about half a mile, but with no cabs in sight, we had to walk, in the unseasonable heat and humidity, tugging our three suitcases, two shoulder bags and the previously described camera bag. By the time we reached the station, my shirt was soaked through with sweat. A very patient and helpful agent described the options and with her little English and my little Italian, we managed two tickets from Salerno, direct to Taormina, Sicily. At Villa San Giovanni, the train is loaded on a ferry and makes the seven-mile trip to Messina, then on to Taormina.
I bought first-class tickets, hoping the car would be air-conditioned and that there might be empty seats in the six-seat cabin. There was air-conditioning, but the other four seats were occupied, amazingly, by four English speakers! Paul and Ingrid, a couple from England and Pat and Maria, a couple from Australia. Though Pat was born in Australia, his parents were Sicilian and he spoke passable Italian. A lively and animated conversation made the time fly. Paul and Ingrid, who were bicycling and train hopping through Italy, left our group one station before Villa San Giovanni. Pat and Maria departed in Messina, leaving Jane and I to spend the last hour to Taormina, discussing our options.
We had no hotel reservations in Taormina! We decided to find a cab and just hit hotels until we found an empty bed. This late in the season, we didn't think this would be a problem. We were wrong! Finding a cab was no problem; there were several just outside the station. We settled on a SUV style cab, for its' larger cargo area. It was a fortuitous choice! Not only did the driver speak passable English, he was patient, friendly and accommodating; admirable qualities at any time, but essential in our current circumstances.
Taormina was packed! The streets were awash with people. The cafes, bars and restaurants we passed were filled to overflowing. By the time we stopped at a five-star hotel, that Giorgio suggested might be our last, best hope, because of its' high cost, we knew we were in trouble.
Giorgio accompanied me inside and we immediately hit a bit of luck. The desk clerk and Giorgio were acquainted. They had worked together, at another hotel, years earlier. There were no rooms available, but after a brief discussion, he suggested a hotel on the seaside, a few miles away and gave Giorgio the number. Giorgio called on his cell phone and indeed, they had one room, for one night and would hold it until we arrived.
Giorgio knew that the desk clerk spoke no English; so again, he accompanied me inside and finalized our arrangements. When he turned to leave, he quoted a more than reasonable fee for his services and I added a generous amount to his request. He shook me off and tried to give me change, but I refused to accept. He gave me his card and told me to call, if we needed any further help. The next morning, as we were checking out, the manager told me that he had called her, to see if she could extend our stay. It wasn't possible, but she told us how lucky we were to have selected Giorgio's cab from the several available, since he was the most honest and accommodating driver she knew.
The distance from the ferry dock to the train station is only about half a mile, but with no cabs in sight, we had to walk, in the unseasonable heat and humidity, tugging our three suitcases, two shoulder bags and the previously described camera bag. By the time we reached the station, my shirt was soaked through with sweat. A very patient and helpful agent described the options and with her little English and my little Italian, we managed two tickets from Salerno, direct to Taormina, Sicily. At Villa San Giovanni, the train is loaded on a ferry and makes the seven-mile trip to Messina, then on to Taormina.
I bought first-class tickets, hoping the car would be air-conditioned and that there might be empty seats in the six-seat cabin. There was air-conditioning, but the other four seats were occupied, amazingly, by four English speakers! Paul and Ingrid, a couple from England and Pat and Maria, a couple from Australia. Though Pat was born in Australia, his parents were Sicilian and he spoke passable Italian. A lively and animated conversation made the time fly. Paul and Ingrid, who were bicycling and train hopping through Italy, left our group one station before Villa San Giovanni. Pat and Maria departed in Messina, leaving Jane and I to spend the last hour to Taormina, discussing our options.
We had no hotel reservations in Taormina! We decided to find a cab and just hit hotels until we found an empty bed. This late in the season, we didn't think this would be a problem. We were wrong! Finding a cab was no problem; there were several just outside the station. We settled on a SUV style cab, for its' larger cargo area. It was a fortuitous choice! Not only did the driver speak passable English, he was patient, friendly and accommodating; admirable qualities at any time, but essential in our current circumstances.
Taormina was packed! The streets were awash with people. The cafes, bars and restaurants we passed were filled to overflowing. By the time we stopped at a five-star hotel, that Giorgio suggested might be our last, best hope, because of its' high cost, we knew we were in trouble.
Giorgio accompanied me inside and we immediately hit a bit of luck. The desk clerk and Giorgio were acquainted. They had worked together, at another hotel, years earlier. There were no rooms available, but after a brief discussion, he suggested a hotel on the seaside, a few miles away and gave Giorgio the number. Giorgio called on his cell phone and indeed, they had one room, for one night and would hold it until we arrived.
Giorgio knew that the desk clerk spoke no English; so again, he accompanied me inside and finalized our arrangements. When he turned to leave, he quoted a more than reasonable fee for his services and I added a generous amount to his request. He shook me off and tried to give me change, but I refused to accept. He gave me his card and told me to call, if we needed any further help. The next morning, as we were checking out, the manager told me that he had called her, to see if she could extend our stay. It wasn't possible, but she told us how lucky we were to have selected Giorgio's cab from the several available, since he was the most honest and accommodating driver she knew.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Leaving Positano
As beautiful as Positano is, it's a bit like Catalina Island in California; much ado about not very much! The a-list shops that dominate Capri are nowhere in evidence here. The alpine-steep narrow streets and even narrower alleyways are lined with no-name shops, selling over-priced t-shirts, caps, tres-faux "designer" clothing and anything lemon. There is lemon soap, lemon candles, lemon perfume, lemon lotion, lemon soda, lemon granita, lemon gelato and of course, limoncello. An english language sign, in one lemon-themed shop, proudly proclaimed; "Making the original homemade organic lemoncello (sic) since 1986".
While the shops may be tacky, the hotels certainly are not. Positano is home to one truly world-class hotel, Le Sirenuse, and several others that are good-to-excellent by almost any standard. The restaurant food is also, generally, up to the standards we've found wherever we've been in Italy. The exception was a pizza we bought yesterday. Instead of the typical thin, crispy, delicious crust, it was thicker and doughy, like American pizza. I suspect that is a concession to American tastes. There are an unusually high number of Americans among the tourists here. We've encountered at least a dozen other American couples during our stay at Le Sirenuse, which has just sixty-two guests rooms; and the number of American accents we hear, as we stroll through the throngs of tourists, is very high, especially for a city this small.
One final note regarding Le Sirenuse; it is stunningly expensive. Given the room rate, we expected high prices, but it really is over-the-top. While perusing the room service menu we spotted one item that is indicative of the price of all the incidentals here. An insalata caprese - green salad with mozzarella cheese and cherry tomatoes - is forty-five dollars, at the current exchange rate!
We'll be leaving Positano, this morning. The road east has been reopened, but remains "iffy", so we're taking the ferry to Salerno. Like all public transportation in Italy, it's a bargain. The seventy minute trip (much faster than the road) is just eight Euro per person.
While the shops may be tacky, the hotels certainly are not. Positano is home to one truly world-class hotel, Le Sirenuse, and several others that are good-to-excellent by almost any standard. The restaurant food is also, generally, up to the standards we've found wherever we've been in Italy. The exception was a pizza we bought yesterday. Instead of the typical thin, crispy, delicious crust, it was thicker and doughy, like American pizza. I suspect that is a concession to American tastes. There are an unusually high number of Americans among the tourists here. We've encountered at least a dozen other American couples during our stay at Le Sirenuse, which has just sixty-two guests rooms; and the number of American accents we hear, as we stroll through the throngs of tourists, is very high, especially for a city this small.
One final note regarding Le Sirenuse; it is stunningly expensive. Given the room rate, we expected high prices, but it really is over-the-top. While perusing the room service menu we spotted one item that is indicative of the price of all the incidentals here. An insalata caprese - green salad with mozzarella cheese and cherry tomatoes - is forty-five dollars, at the current exchange rate!
We'll be leaving Positano, this morning. The road east has been reopened, but remains "iffy", so we're taking the ferry to Salerno. Like all public transportation in Italy, it's a bargain. The seventy minute trip (much faster than the road) is just eight Euro per person.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Ristorante Max
It’s just after 7:00 am, Sunday, in Positano and it looks like another perfect day. We learned, from one of the waiters, that the road along the coast, (the only road) the one we plan to use to get to Salerno and catch the train to Reggio Calabria and then the ferry to Sicily, is closed by a landslide. So we will spend some part of today investigating another route.
I can hear gunfire on the mountain, above and behind us. The hunters are out early. I’m not sure what they’re hunting for - if this were Tuscany, or Umbria, it would be wild boar (the best I’ve ever eaten). Given the terrain here, I suppose it could be wild goat.
Last night, we ate at Ristorante Max. It has a very good reputation and it’s like eating in an art gallery - they are renowned for their collection. But the biggest reason we chose it is the owner’s son recently opened a Ristorante Max in Newport Beach, just about three miles from our home. We haven’t tried it yet, the early reviews were not good, but if the son can pull it together and match the original in Positano, he’ll be a huge success.
I had grilled prawns, caught this morning, just off the coast and Jane had fried zucchini flower, stuffed with riccotta and salami. Both dishes were superb, but the real treat were the wild strawberries I had for dessert. I rarely buy strawberries at home anymore. The huge hybrids they’ve developed, that look so beautiful and ship so well, have a hard texture and little remains of the original wonderful sweet flavor.
The bowl of berries that was placed before me, last night, were about the size of small almonds and when you put one in your mouth, the wonderful sweetness found it’s way all the way to your heart! Even the few berry’s that were still a little green, were sweeter than a whole box of hybrids!
I can hear gunfire on the mountain, above and behind us. The hunters are out early. I’m not sure what they’re hunting for - if this were Tuscany, or Umbria, it would be wild boar (the best I’ve ever eaten). Given the terrain here, I suppose it could be wild goat.
Last night, we ate at Ristorante Max. It has a very good reputation and it’s like eating in an art gallery - they are renowned for their collection. But the biggest reason we chose it is the owner’s son recently opened a Ristorante Max in Newport Beach, just about three miles from our home. We haven’t tried it yet, the early reviews were not good, but if the son can pull it together and match the original in Positano, he’ll be a huge success.
I had grilled prawns, caught this morning, just off the coast and Jane had fried zucchini flower, stuffed with riccotta and salami. Both dishes were superb, but the real treat were the wild strawberries I had for dessert. I rarely buy strawberries at home anymore. The huge hybrids they’ve developed, that look so beautiful and ship so well, have a hard texture and little remains of the original wonderful sweet flavor.
The bowl of berries that was placed before me, last night, were about the size of small almonds and when you put one in your mouth, the wonderful sweetness found it’s way all the way to your heart! Even the few berry’s that were still a little green, were sweeter than a whole box of hybrids!
Positano and Le Sirenuse
Marina Grande is not a place for the unwary! It is a constant bustle of frenetic activity. Ferries arrive and depart with a steady stream of thousands of tourists and the tons of supplies necessary to keep the island's businesses operating. It is a place where opportunity intersects with inventiveness and every pickpocket, huckster, shyster and nere-do-well, within a reasonable distance, finds at least a temporary home here. It is wise to keep your possessions close or, in a single unguarded moment, they'll "belong" to someone else!
We bought our tickets for the Positano ferry and found seats in the quietest dockside cafe we could find. After ordering a couple of fresh lemon drinks (tart, but refreshing) we traded Capri and Tuscany stories with a couple from New Zealand, who were waiting for a ferry to Sorrento. As departure time approached, we traded business cards and promised to look each other up if ever.......
The trip to Positano took about 30 minutes on the "slow" boat - water-jet propulsion, but not a hydrofoil. The boat backs in to the "dock" - little more than a concrete slab, a metal ramp is extended between the two, passengers grab their luggage and spill onto the dock where another group waits to board.
Positano is a goat hill! Quaint, picturesque, certainly beautiful, but extraordinarily steep! Our hotel is situated about halfway up the hill and with no cabs in sight, the prospect of dragging our bags up the winding narrow passages was daunting. Fortunately, there is a porter service and for six Euro a bag, they will deliver to your hotel in a matter of minutes. It's a leap of faith, because there are no bag checks, receipts or anything whatsoever in writing. You just point out your bags, and trust!
I couldn't bring myself to extend that trust to my camera bag. With two cameras (Canon 1D MK III, 1Ds MK II) seven lenses, Apple MacBook Pro 17", 2 firewire drives, 3 iPods, 30 gigs worth of CF and SD cards, 1 580 EX II flash, 2 spare batteries for the MK III, 2 for the MK II, plus assorted cables, headphones and other odd bits, the contents were worth much more than I was willing to risk. The down side is, it weights about 50 pounds! By the time I reached the front door of our hotel, I was, literally, pouring sweat.
Our hotel is Le Sirenuse; a former personal residence for a wealthy Italian family, which they turned into one of the finest hotels in Italy. After we decided to make this trip, almost a year ago, I gave Jane two nights at Le Sirenuse, as a christmas present.
The Hotel is spectacular! The family's goal of luxury, elegance and guest comfort are apparent in every element of the property. Our room is a junior suite and it lacks nothing! Beds in Italian hotels are, typically, carved from the same rocks that were used to construct the building. Not Le Sirenuse's! This is the most comfortable Italian bed we've slept in since our one-night stay at The Savoy, in Florence, in 2005. Our terrace, which opens off the sitting room, has a postcard view of Positano. The hotel faces south and today, that terrace is so hot, you could fry an egg out there; but we just step inside the double glass doors and bask in the sunshine, while the air-conditioner cools us.
We bought our tickets for the Positano ferry and found seats in the quietest dockside cafe we could find. After ordering a couple of fresh lemon drinks (tart, but refreshing) we traded Capri and Tuscany stories with a couple from New Zealand, who were waiting for a ferry to Sorrento. As departure time approached, we traded business cards and promised to look each other up if ever.......
The trip to Positano took about 30 minutes on the "slow" boat - water-jet propulsion, but not a hydrofoil. The boat backs in to the "dock" - little more than a concrete slab, a metal ramp is extended between the two, passengers grab their luggage and spill onto the dock where another group waits to board.
Positano is a goat hill! Quaint, picturesque, certainly beautiful, but extraordinarily steep! Our hotel is situated about halfway up the hill and with no cabs in sight, the prospect of dragging our bags up the winding narrow passages was daunting. Fortunately, there is a porter service and for six Euro a bag, they will deliver to your hotel in a matter of minutes. It's a leap of faith, because there are no bag checks, receipts or anything whatsoever in writing. You just point out your bags, and trust!
I couldn't bring myself to extend that trust to my camera bag. With two cameras (Canon 1D MK III, 1Ds MK II) seven lenses, Apple MacBook Pro 17", 2 firewire drives, 3 iPods, 30 gigs worth of CF and SD cards, 1 580 EX II flash, 2 spare batteries for the MK III, 2 for the MK II, plus assorted cables, headphones and other odd bits, the contents were worth much more than I was willing to risk. The down side is, it weights about 50 pounds! By the time I reached the front door of our hotel, I was, literally, pouring sweat.
Our hotel is Le Sirenuse; a former personal residence for a wealthy Italian family, which they turned into one of the finest hotels in Italy. After we decided to make this trip, almost a year ago, I gave Jane two nights at Le Sirenuse, as a christmas present.
The Hotel is spectacular! The family's goal of luxury, elegance and guest comfort are apparent in every element of the property. Our room is a junior suite and it lacks nothing! Beds in Italian hotels are, typically, carved from the same rocks that were used to construct the building. Not Le Sirenuse's! This is the most comfortable Italian bed we've slept in since our one-night stay at The Savoy, in Florence, in 2005. Our terrace, which opens off the sitting room, has a postcard view of Positano. The hotel faces south and today, that terrace is so hot, you could fry an egg out there; but we just step inside the double glass doors and bask in the sunshine, while the air-conditioner cools us.
The Blue Grotto Awaits
It was destined to happen! Friday morning, check-out time at 11:00am, we finish our breakfast at around 9:00 and head for our room to complete our packing. The concierge calls us over and informs us that the Blue Grotto is finally open. Of course there is no way we can arrange a boat, take the more than two hour tour and still check out in time. She checks the schedule of arriving guests and decides to extend our checkout for as long as it takes. She arranges a boat for 10:15 - we finish our packing, change and head for the beach to await our boat.
We watch as several other couples and groups depart on their boats, but by 10:45, ours has still not appeared. I hike back up the hill and the concierge calls - our boat has broken down! But, they're sending another, it should arrive at any moment. I race back down the hill! The boat and I arrive at about the same time and Guisseppe (who else) welcomes us aboard.
With or without the Blue Grotto, the tour is quite interesting. The geology of the island is remarkable. Weather, waves, geologic activity and time have produced a number of interesting features along the shoreline and Guisseppe manuevers his boat into some very tight spaces, in order to give us the best views. It's easy to see why Roman Emperors chose the island for their summer retreat. The nearly complete lack of beaches and the near vertical, unstable limestone cliffs make attack from the sea almost impossible.
About 40 minutes into our tour, we arrive at the Blue Grotto. There are a considerable number of boats massed about the entrance, jockeying for position and awaiting the attention of the Grotto boatmen. In order to enter the Grotto, you must transfer to a small rowboat, perhaps ten feet long. Up to four people sit in the bottom of the boat, while the boatman stands and rows to the entrance. There, everyone ducks as low as possible and you squeeze through the tiny gap.
Inside, the cavern formed by the wave action is about twelve feet above, at its highest point, about sixty yards deep and twenty-five yards wide. there are six or seven boats in the cavern at any one time, and once inside, the boatmen begin to sing traditional Italian songs. The real treat, of course, is the cobalt-blue color of the water There is no light source inside the cavern, the color of the water is the result of a completely underwater entrance that allows light to reflect off the limestone bottom. The boatman circles the cavern once and then exits through the same tiny gap - as other boats are entering - cooperation is a must; the entire event takes about ten minutes.
After rejoining Guisseppe, we completed the full circle of the island and returned to the rocky "dock" below our hotel. It was now 1:15 and we rushed to check out, travel across the island to Marina Grande and buy tickets for the 3:45 ferry to Positano, our next stop.
We watch as several other couples and groups depart on their boats, but by 10:45, ours has still not appeared. I hike back up the hill and the concierge calls - our boat has broken down! But, they're sending another, it should arrive at any moment. I race back down the hill! The boat and I arrive at about the same time and Guisseppe (who else) welcomes us aboard.
With or without the Blue Grotto, the tour is quite interesting. The geology of the island is remarkable. Weather, waves, geologic activity and time have produced a number of interesting features along the shoreline and Guisseppe manuevers his boat into some very tight spaces, in order to give us the best views. It's easy to see why Roman Emperors chose the island for their summer retreat. The nearly complete lack of beaches and the near vertical, unstable limestone cliffs make attack from the sea almost impossible.
About 40 minutes into our tour, we arrive at the Blue Grotto. There are a considerable number of boats massed about the entrance, jockeying for position and awaiting the attention of the Grotto boatmen. In order to enter the Grotto, you must transfer to a small rowboat, perhaps ten feet long. Up to four people sit in the bottom of the boat, while the boatman stands and rows to the entrance. There, everyone ducks as low as possible and you squeeze through the tiny gap.
Inside, the cavern formed by the wave action is about twelve feet above, at its highest point, about sixty yards deep and twenty-five yards wide. there are six or seven boats in the cavern at any one time, and once inside, the boatmen begin to sing traditional Italian songs. The real treat, of course, is the cobalt-blue color of the water There is no light source inside the cavern, the color of the water is the result of a completely underwater entrance that allows light to reflect off the limestone bottom. The boatman circles the cavern once and then exits through the same tiny gap - as other boats are entering - cooperation is a must; the entire event takes about ten minutes.
After rejoining Guisseppe, we completed the full circle of the island and returned to the rocky "dock" below our hotel. It was now 1:15 and we rushed to check out, travel across the island to Marina Grande and buy tickets for the 3:45 ferry to Positano, our next stop.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Yachts, squid, wine and Giada
It's Thursday and the weather is a repeat of yesterday - glorious! Unfortunately, the sea conditions are the same and it now seems certain that we will not get to the Grotto - bummer!
As write this, I'm watching a "cigarette" type speedboat pound through the chop, throwing about a thirty-foot rooster tail behind it - I have a serious case of envy - Damn, I like this place!
At the moment, there are three "mega-yachts", one at least 200 feet long, riding at anchor just off the beach. There are about a dozen smaller yachts and a score or more speedboats, of various types; some anchored, others just lazily plying the water within a stones throw of the beach. This an island, so of course, there are boats; but there is some serious money tied up in fiberglass and marine plywood here - not to mention supplies of marine gasoline and diesel fuel. This is boat heaven!
Yesterday afternoon and evening we searched out some of the places that Giada De Laurentiis featured in her Capri special, on the food network. They were worth the work to find them! They'd have been even more fun if we had Giada's budget!
We had dinner in a small restaurant off an even smaller alley, not far from the main piazza in Capri. Jane had calamari , cooked in the best tasting tomato sauce I've ever had - I had grilled calamari that was to die for! The free-falling dollar against the Euro (thanks, George) has caused the $29 dollar bottle of Brunelo, that we came to love so much when we were in Tuscany, in 2005, to rise to around $50 a bottle. But we've found a Sicilian red, Tancredi, that's wonderful and we enjoyed another bottle of that, with our meal. At $35 a bottle, it's hardly a bargain, but we hope to find it at a better price, when we get to Sicily, next week.
As write this, I'm watching a "cigarette" type speedboat pound through the chop, throwing about a thirty-foot rooster tail behind it - I have a serious case of envy - Damn, I like this place!
At the moment, there are three "mega-yachts", one at least 200 feet long, riding at anchor just off the beach. There are about a dozen smaller yachts and a score or more speedboats, of various types; some anchored, others just lazily plying the water within a stones throw of the beach. This an island, so of course, there are boats; but there is some serious money tied up in fiberglass and marine plywood here - not to mention supplies of marine gasoline and diesel fuel. This is boat heaven!
Yesterday afternoon and evening we searched out some of the places that Giada De Laurentiis featured in her Capri special, on the food network. They were worth the work to find them! They'd have been even more fun if we had Giada's budget!
We had dinner in a small restaurant off an even smaller alley, not far from the main piazza in Capri. Jane had calamari , cooked in the best tasting tomato sauce I've ever had - I had grilled calamari that was to die for! The free-falling dollar against the Euro (thanks, George) has caused the $29 dollar bottle of Brunelo, that we came to love so much when we were in Tuscany, in 2005, to rise to around $50 a bottle. But we've found a Sicilian red, Tancredi, that's wonderful and we enjoyed another bottle of that, with our meal. At $35 a bottle, it's hardly a bargain, but we hope to find it at a better price, when we get to Sicily, next week.
Anacapri
The late change in weather, Tuesday, carried over to Wednesday - it was a spectacular day! Warm, but not too warm, low humidity, gentle breeze - but the sea was still too rough for the Blue Grotto boats. It's beginning to look like we may not get to the island's signature attraction.
Capri has just two "cities", Capri and Anacapri. Since we've pretty well explored Capri, we took a cab to Anacapri. There is only one road that winds its' way up the mountain and the traffic is heavy. Like the roads I've described previously, this one is also narrow, with lots of hairpin curves. Most of the traffic is cabs, buses and motorbikes, but occasionally there are large trucks, that are almost as wide as the road. This requires cooperation and maneuvering between the drivers and brings the four-wheeled vehicles to nearly a halt, as they use every bit of available space to inch past one another. The motorbikes, on the other hand, especially those driven by islanders, will make use of the narrowest openings, to zip through and be on their way.
Anacapri is a smaller version of Capri, filled with the usual shops and awash in tourists - even on a Wednesday. One of its' attractions is a chair lift which, for seven Euros, takes you to the top of the mountain and affords a spectacular view of the island. Jane has a well established fear of heights, but to my surprise, she agreed to make the trip. The chairs accommodate just one person, are made of wood and have a not-very-sturdy hinged bar, with no locking mechanism, that drops in front of you. This attraction would not exist in the U.S.! OSHA would have a field day! But, in fact, it's quite serviceable and has a steady stream of clientele. The trip takes 12 minutes (Jane says 13 - she was counting the seconds) and gives you a birds-eye-view of the terracing that the residents use to squeeze every bit of agricultural capability out of this steep and rocky terrain.
As you pass overhead, you see vineyards, fig trees, vegetable gardens, lemon trees and the occasional shrine to a favorite saint. At the lower elevations, the chairs pass within a few yards, sometimes a few feet, of front doors, back windows, back yards, etc. I couldn't help but wonder how the residents feel about this close scrutiny of their lives by the thousands of strangers that pass each day. But the few residents I saw completely ignored the chairs, so I'm left to imagine that the intrusion on their lives is an acceptable trade-off for the economic advantage that the lift helps bring to the area.
When we reached the top, Jane was visibly shaking from the adrenalin rush of managing her fear and she would venture no closer than several yards from the railing that separated people from the near-vertical drop down the cliff face, to the sea. That was a view she did not savor. But I was really quite proud of her - I didn't expect her to make the trip, at all. We went to the open air cafe and enjoyed a beer and chatted with a few Americans we encountered - all of whom wanted to know if I knew the weekend college football scores (i.e., did Michigan lose again - YES!)
On the way back down, I was treated to a unique sight. An elderly local was riding the chair to the top, with a medium sized dog standing on his lap. Both the man and the dog seemed quite comfortable with this arrangement; clearly, they'd done it before. I grabbed one of my cameras and fired off several photographs as the pair approached. When we passed, he called out, "grazie", and I thanked him in return. In the States, this never would have been permitted, but here in Italy, I've had several occasions to witness that people are much less concerned with form, than they are with function. They take responsibility for their own actions and are not looking for an all-encompassing umbrella of safety to be cast about them by some government fiat.
A good example of this is one of the island's busiest intersections. The road from Marina Grande, the road from Anacapri and the road from Marina Piccolo all merge at a traffic roundabout into a single road that continues into Capri. There is a traffic cop stationed at the roundabout, but he/she stands off to the side and lets the drivers work out the merging. There are stop and yield signs on two of the roads, but these are universally ignored. Cars, motorbikes and the electric trucks are often two or more abreast - sometimes horns blow and occasionally, "greetings" are exchanged, but traffic flows and everyone gets where they're going, without intervention or input from the cop. If government, in the from of the cop, got involved, it would just slow things to a crawl! Ring any bells?
Capri has just two "cities", Capri and Anacapri. Since we've pretty well explored Capri, we took a cab to Anacapri. There is only one road that winds its' way up the mountain and the traffic is heavy. Like the roads I've described previously, this one is also narrow, with lots of hairpin curves. Most of the traffic is cabs, buses and motorbikes, but occasionally there are large trucks, that are almost as wide as the road. This requires cooperation and maneuvering between the drivers and brings the four-wheeled vehicles to nearly a halt, as they use every bit of available space to inch past one another. The motorbikes, on the other hand, especially those driven by islanders, will make use of the narrowest openings, to zip through and be on their way.
Anacapri is a smaller version of Capri, filled with the usual shops and awash in tourists - even on a Wednesday. One of its' attractions is a chair lift which, for seven Euros, takes you to the top of the mountain and affords a spectacular view of the island. Jane has a well established fear of heights, but to my surprise, she agreed to make the trip. The chairs accommodate just one person, are made of wood and have a not-very-sturdy hinged bar, with no locking mechanism, that drops in front of you. This attraction would not exist in the U.S.! OSHA would have a field day! But, in fact, it's quite serviceable and has a steady stream of clientele. The trip takes 12 minutes (Jane says 13 - she was counting the seconds) and gives you a birds-eye-view of the terracing that the residents use to squeeze every bit of agricultural capability out of this steep and rocky terrain.
As you pass overhead, you see vineyards, fig trees, vegetable gardens, lemon trees and the occasional shrine to a favorite saint. At the lower elevations, the chairs pass within a few yards, sometimes a few feet, of front doors, back windows, back yards, etc. I couldn't help but wonder how the residents feel about this close scrutiny of their lives by the thousands of strangers that pass each day. But the few residents I saw completely ignored the chairs, so I'm left to imagine that the intrusion on their lives is an acceptable trade-off for the economic advantage that the lift helps bring to the area.
When we reached the top, Jane was visibly shaking from the adrenalin rush of managing her fear and she would venture no closer than several yards from the railing that separated people from the near-vertical drop down the cliff face, to the sea. That was a view she did not savor. But I was really quite proud of her - I didn't expect her to make the trip, at all. We went to the open air cafe and enjoyed a beer and chatted with a few Americans we encountered - all of whom wanted to know if I knew the weekend college football scores (i.e., did Michigan lose again - YES!)
On the way back down, I was treated to a unique sight. An elderly local was riding the chair to the top, with a medium sized dog standing on his lap. Both the man and the dog seemed quite comfortable with this arrangement; clearly, they'd done it before. I grabbed one of my cameras and fired off several photographs as the pair approached. When we passed, he called out, "grazie", and I thanked him in return. In the States, this never would have been permitted, but here in Italy, I've had several occasions to witness that people are much less concerned with form, than they are with function. They take responsibility for their own actions and are not looking for an all-encompassing umbrella of safety to be cast about them by some government fiat.
A good example of this is one of the island's busiest intersections. The road from Marina Grande, the road from Anacapri and the road from Marina Piccolo all merge at a traffic roundabout into a single road that continues into Capri. There is a traffic cop stationed at the roundabout, but he/she stands off to the side and lets the drivers work out the merging. There are stop and yield signs on two of the roads, but these are universally ignored. Cars, motorbikes and the electric trucks are often two or more abreast - sometimes horns blow and occasionally, "greetings" are exchanged, but traffic flows and everyone gets where they're going, without intervention or input from the cop. If government, in the from of the cop, got involved, it would just slow things to a crawl! Ring any bells?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Dinner on the Via Roma
The rain, that seemed so certain earlier, never materialized. Just as it appeared the sky would open up and pour, the wind shifted, the humidity dropped, the clouds disappeared and the late afternoon was glorious. We took the hotel van into Capri, roamed the streets and window-shopped.
Calling the city's thoroughfares streets is really an overstatement - most are barely wide enough to accommodate two people walking abreast. Hotel guests' luggage and all the supplies for the hotels and shops are "trucked" in on battery-powered carts that are about two-thirds the width of a golf cart. While pedestrians have the right-of-way, it's wise not to assert that right too vigorously. Cart drivers can be described as aggressive and while they seem to defer to locals, they have little patience with tourists.
The shops in Capri include every premium retailer you can think of - Prada, Vendi, Ferragamo, Gucci, Ferre`, Louis Vuitton, to name just a few. The Via Camerelle is easily the most elegant street on the island and watching the strolling patrons is a fashion show in itself. Prices are rarely displayed - if you have to ask, you can't afford!
Capri is well known for its' fragrances and the parfumerie of choice is Carthusia. Their perfumes are made on the island, from local herbs and flowers and their clientele has included Jackie Kennedy, Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Madonna and a host of other headline names.
The other world-famous local product is Limoncello di Capri, made from island grown and picked Sorrento lemons. Jane and I have made our own limoncello, from California lemons, for several years, but as good as it is and as enjoyable as it may be to make, it doesn't compare to the original. Sorrento lemons have a sweet/tart flavor that is unique and as proud as I am of our California product, its in a different league.
It was approaching 7:30 and not having eaten since breakfast, we stepped into a restaurant on the Via Roma. We asked to be seated in the second floor dining room and given the early hour, had our choice of tables. We chose one on a tiny balcony, overlooking the Via Roma. Our waiter brought a tray of fresh fish and we selected one that I'd never seen before. It appeared to be a cross between a mud scupper and a flying fish - quite ugly, in an intriguing sort of way. Fortunately, Jane has adopted my adventuresome eating habits and the fish was quite delicious, though a bit boney.
Our balcony was just across the street from the Prada store, just a few steps from the clock tower that adjoins the city's main piazza and overlooks the Marina Grande (where the ferry's disgorge a steady stream of tourists) and perhaps forty yards from the bus station terminus; so while enjoying our meal, we watched the throng of locals and tourists pass below us on this main thoroughfare.
Calling the city's thoroughfares streets is really an overstatement - most are barely wide enough to accommodate two people walking abreast. Hotel guests' luggage and all the supplies for the hotels and shops are "trucked" in on battery-powered carts that are about two-thirds the width of a golf cart. While pedestrians have the right-of-way, it's wise not to assert that right too vigorously. Cart drivers can be described as aggressive and while they seem to defer to locals, they have little patience with tourists.
The shops in Capri include every premium retailer you can think of - Prada, Vendi, Ferragamo, Gucci, Ferre`, Louis Vuitton, to name just a few. The Via Camerelle is easily the most elegant street on the island and watching the strolling patrons is a fashion show in itself. Prices are rarely displayed - if you have to ask, you can't afford!
Capri is well known for its' fragrances and the parfumerie of choice is Carthusia. Their perfumes are made on the island, from local herbs and flowers and their clientele has included Jackie Kennedy, Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Madonna and a host of other headline names.
The other world-famous local product is Limoncello di Capri, made from island grown and picked Sorrento lemons. Jane and I have made our own limoncello, from California lemons, for several years, but as good as it is and as enjoyable as it may be to make, it doesn't compare to the original. Sorrento lemons have a sweet/tart flavor that is unique and as proud as I am of our California product, its in a different league.
It was approaching 7:30 and not having eaten since breakfast, we stepped into a restaurant on the Via Roma. We asked to be seated in the second floor dining room and given the early hour, had our choice of tables. We chose one on a tiny balcony, overlooking the Via Roma. Our waiter brought a tray of fresh fish and we selected one that I'd never seen before. It appeared to be a cross between a mud scupper and a flying fish - quite ugly, in an intriguing sort of way. Fortunately, Jane has adopted my adventuresome eating habits and the fish was quite delicious, though a bit boney.
Our balcony was just across the street from the Prada store, just a few steps from the clock tower that adjoins the city's main piazza and overlooks the Marina Grande (where the ferry's disgorge a steady stream of tourists) and perhaps forty yards from the bus station terminus; so while enjoying our meal, we watched the throng of locals and tourists pass below us on this main thoroughfare.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Rain!
Yesterday, after a late lunch at a tiny restaurant in the city of Capri (pleasant, delicious but stunningly expensive) we opted to relax on the hotel veranda with bruscetta, mozzarella, prosciutto and a bottle of chianti. We struck up a conversation with a young Irish couple and watched, somewhat in awe, as they decimated the hotel's supply of Budweiser. Marlena informed us that John had insisted the hotel she selected had to have a pool, be on, or very near the water, have air conditioning and sell Budweiser! When our Argentine waiter, Diego (who speaks five languages, including english) informed them that cupboard was bare of Bud, they grudgingly switched to Heineken and downed another four bottles apiece.
We made no attempt to keep up!
Their delightful, but thick brogue was a challenge to understand and grew more so with each round of beer. Both had been to the U.S. on brief holidays and were very pro American, but were utterly mystified that an otherwise seemingly intelligent nation of people could elect George Bush to any public office whatsoever! Twice! "And now that we know what an moron he is, why don't we just throw him out!"
I had no answer for them. Who can explain President Dumbster!
Fortunately, the days increasing humidity finally produced the inevitable thunderstorm - with a near tropical downpour and spectacular lightning show. Looking south, over Marina Piccolo, was like watching Fourth of July fireworks, without the colors.
The storm cleared the air and the starry sky that followed was almost as impressive as the lightning. But at dawn the sky was largely overcast and by 8:30 another deluge began. Yesterday's calm seas have been replaced by a nasty chop, so our plan to visit the Blue Grotto will have to wait for better conditions. The Grotto excursion boats, which pick up their passengers at a rocky point, just below our hotel, are all riding at anchor - unable to negotiate the tiny entrance in these rough seas. The sun broke through, just before noon, but the humidity is climbing and the clouds are building, so I expect more rain before the day is done. The public beach just below the hotel, packed yesterday, with day-trippers, is virtually deserted today.
Looks like today is "hang at the hotel" day.
We made no attempt to keep up!
Their delightful, but thick brogue was a challenge to understand and grew more so with each round of beer. Both had been to the U.S. on brief holidays and were very pro American, but were utterly mystified that an otherwise seemingly intelligent nation of people could elect George Bush to any public office whatsoever! Twice! "And now that we know what an moron he is, why don't we just throw him out!"
I had no answer for them. Who can explain President Dumbster!
Fortunately, the days increasing humidity finally produced the inevitable thunderstorm - with a near tropical downpour and spectacular lightning show. Looking south, over Marina Piccolo, was like watching Fourth of July fireworks, without the colors.
The storm cleared the air and the starry sky that followed was almost as impressive as the lightning. But at dawn the sky was largely overcast and by 8:30 another deluge began. Yesterday's calm seas have been replaced by a nasty chop, so our plan to visit the Blue Grotto will have to wait for better conditions. The Grotto excursion boats, which pick up their passengers at a rocky point, just below our hotel, are all riding at anchor - unable to negotiate the tiny entrance in these rough seas. The sun broke through, just before noon, but the humidity is climbing and the clouds are building, so I expect more rain before the day is done. The public beach just below the hotel, packed yesterday, with day-trippers, is virtually deserted today.
Looks like today is "hang at the hotel" day.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Getting Around
Even though it's September and a Monday, the crowds in the city of Capri are large. Lots of Japanese, German and French tour groups. The tours are easily identified; they move en masse, have some sort of badge and the guides carry flags held aloft - although one Japanese group was led by a woman holding aloft a long-stemmed fake tulip.
The weather has been warm, the winds low and the sea calm, so the water is an incredible azure blue. From a distance it's quite beautiful - up close, it loses some of it's charm. There is a remarkable amount of trash in the water, particularly around the public beaches. And the beaches are not sand - sea washed stone and pebbles. You can tell the day-trippers from the hotel quests by the foam mats provided to the quests by the hotels and by the impressions of the stones and pebbles temporarily etched into the skin of the day-trippers.
Most transportation, other than walking, is by cab, bus, or hotel van; although the incredibly brave, or incredibly foolish, can rent scooters. The roads are very narrow and abound with hairpin curves. However, the cab, bus and van drivers make few, if any, concessions to these conditions. In Italy, driving at breakneck speed may not be a constitutional right, but it is a national obsession - and Capri's drivers are no exception. As they approach a blind hairpin curve, drivers simply blow their horns and soldier on! Though we've seen no collisions yet, both our hotel vans have smashed side-view mirrors - on both sides! So clearly, it's a contact sport!
The weather has been warm, the winds low and the sea calm, so the water is an incredible azure blue. From a distance it's quite beautiful - up close, it loses some of it's charm. There is a remarkable amount of trash in the water, particularly around the public beaches. And the beaches are not sand - sea washed stone and pebbles. You can tell the day-trippers from the hotel quests by the foam mats provided to the quests by the hotels and by the impressions of the stones and pebbles temporarily etched into the skin of the day-trippers.
Most transportation, other than walking, is by cab, bus, or hotel van; although the incredibly brave, or incredibly foolish, can rent scooters. The roads are very narrow and abound with hairpin curves. However, the cab, bus and van drivers make few, if any, concessions to these conditions. In Italy, driving at breakneck speed may not be a constitutional right, but it is a national obsession - and Capri's drivers are no exception. As they approach a blind hairpin curve, drivers simply blow their horns and soldier on! Though we've seen no collisions yet, both our hotel vans have smashed side-view mirrors - on both sides! So clearly, it's a contact sport!
1st day in Italy
We arrived at Rome's Fumicino airport to a beautiful Italian sunrise. Temperature in the mid seventies, moderate humidity. A five second stop at immigration, followed by a wave through at customs and we were into the public area looking for our driver. We spotted our name on a placard and followed the driver to a black Mercedes. The ride from The airport to Termini, in downtown Rome, was my kind of ride - pedal-to-the-metal! He may have been auditioning for an F1 ride but whatever the reason, he made short work of the trip.
Termini, on a Sunday morning, is busy, but not insane. We purchased two TrenItalia tickets to Naples Mergellina, a station right on the harbor, just two blocks down the hill from a hydrorfoil departure; then bought two cappuccinos and found seats in one of the station waiting rooms. While Jane relaxed and watched the luggage, I grabbed two cameras and roamed the station.
We boarded our train, found our 6 seat cabin, with one seat already occupied by an older Italian woman and another by a twenty-something male movie star wannabe, who was rarely off the phone. Just before departure, we were joined by a young lady whose silicone assisted chest was almost fully displayed - apparently not an unusual occurrence for her since her golden tan was in no way interrupted by tan lines. She also spent the bulk of our slightly-more-that two hour trip on one or the other of her two cell phones.
We arrived at the Mergellina station and dragged our bags down the hill to the port, only to discover that the next departure was three-and-a-half hours later. Fortunately, just four kilometers down the road was another port with a ferry that would depart in just half-an-hour. We grabbed a cab and made that departure.
Termini, on a Sunday morning, is busy, but not insane. We purchased two TrenItalia tickets to Naples Mergellina, a station right on the harbor, just two blocks down the hill from a hydrorfoil departure; then bought two cappuccinos and found seats in one of the station waiting rooms. While Jane relaxed and watched the luggage, I grabbed two cameras and roamed the station.
We boarded our train, found our 6 seat cabin, with one seat already occupied by an older Italian woman and another by a twenty-something male movie star wannabe, who was rarely off the phone. Just before departure, we were joined by a young lady whose silicone assisted chest was almost fully displayed - apparently not an unusual occurrence for her since her golden tan was in no way interrupted by tan lines. She also spent the bulk of our slightly-more-that two hour trip on one or the other of her two cell phones.
We arrived at the Mergellina station and dragged our bags down the hill to the port, only to discover that the next departure was three-and-a-half hours later. Fortunately, just four kilometers down the road was another port with a ferry that would depart in just half-an-hour. We grabbed a cab and made that departure.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Off to Italy
Okay....It's been almost a year since my last post to this blog. Obviously, I've had some other things on my mind. However, at the end of this week, Jane and I are leaving for Italy and I thought I would use the blog to keep a record of the trip. I'll also be posting images (and perhaps some video) as we go along.
We start in Capri, staying at the Weber Ambassador, just above Marina Piccolo. Five days of decompression there and it's off to Positano, for two days, at La Sirenuse. From Positano we'll travel to Salerno, where we will catch the train to Reggio Calabria and then a ferry to Sicily.
We have no reservations in Sicily - we're going to wing it each day - when we find a place we like, we'll get a room and stay until the urge moves us.
It should be a great adventure! You're invited along to share it, in the virtual sense. See you there!
We start in Capri, staying at the Weber Ambassador, just above Marina Piccolo. Five days of decompression there and it's off to Positano, for two days, at La Sirenuse. From Positano we'll travel to Salerno, where we will catch the train to Reggio Calabria and then a ferry to Sicily.
We have no reservations in Sicily - we're going to wing it each day - when we find a place we like, we'll get a room and stay until the urge moves us.
It should be a great adventure! You're invited along to share it, in the virtual sense. See you there!
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