Sorrento, Capri and the Amalfi Coast

Shells for sale in the Amalfi market.

"Torna a Sorrento", I could almost hear Dean Martin or Pavarotti or Meatloaf singing as the crowded commuter train sped toward the coast. Yes, we were on our way to Sorrento. We had changed trains in Naples. Since there was a huge rush hour crowd, we had to wait for a second train.   (They run about every half hour.) We were stuffed in the coaches almost as tight as a Tokyo subway. The old train with gaudy graffiti screeched and rattled over the tracks at seemingly breakneck speed. There were other travelers like us on the train.  A young English mom tried to shield her young daughter's eyes from a lesbian couple very much into each other. Chinese tourists were huddled together.  The beggar

played an accordion with a cup and a picture of an invalid child attached to the instrument. The train rattled on stopping frequently. We weren't concerned about missing our stop... Sorrento was at the end of the line.

It was dark when we reached our destination.  We inadvertently took a wrong turn after exiting the train, but a friendly Italian came to our rescue. She said the she had seen us walk by her shop several times and thought maybe we needed her help. She was quite perceptive. Casa Astarita was about ten blocks from the train station and not easy to find.  Eventually we found Corsa Italia, the broad avenue on which our bed and breakfast was located.  In the middle of what appeared to be a stone wall about twenty feet wide were two weathered heavy oak doors.  There was a small sign indicating the name of the bed and breakfast, Casa Astarita, on the right side of the doors. One door was open.  Inside were some motorscooters and a bicycle. At the rear of the covered area was a stairway to the upper levels. Our host met us and led us as the stairway traversed across the rear past three landings before reaching the entrance to the bed and breakfast. There was a beautiful grotto on one of the landings. There was no doubt that Italy is a Catholic country. Our lodgings were on the top floor. There was a nice common area beside the breakfast room near our bedroom. I think there were only three guest rooms. Our room was big with a queen size bed.  Quickly we unpacked toiletries and hung some clothes in the wardrobe. We were hungry and were in desperate need  of food. Back on the street we noticed that we were only a few feet from The English Pub. Decidedly, it was a good time for fish and chips. This was to be the worst meal we had in Italy. The fish was greasy, and the chips were soggy. Ugh! The only good thing was that we met some nice folks from Canada who were familiar with our fair city of Charleston. A bit of window shopping and it was time to hit the sack.

Great breakfast. There was a large selection of fruit, pastries, meats, and cheeses as well as a variety of jellies and preserves. Juice and everybody's favorite, cappuccino, we available too.
Claudette enjoyed one of her favorites, croissants with Nutella. We met the other house guests. There was a French family, Luc Buchard, Marie, and their two boys. It was interesting to talk with them. They were completely unlike the French we met at the bed and breakfast in Cody, Wyoming, who only spoke among themselves in French but spoke with the host in English.  Luc and his family told us of their home near Paris and about the boys' school work. According to Marie, French students must decide if they wish to learn English or German for a second language. The boys enjoyed practicing their English skills. The Canadians we had met at The English Pub were house guests as well. With some table guests it's sometimes difficult to leave breakfasst. We discussed our destinations for the day.  The Buchard family was going to Capri while the Canadians and my wife and I were going to Pompeii. Breakfasts like this are representative of what we like about bed and breakfasts.

Since I have written about Pompeii in another post I will not dwell on it here. I will say that it was very interesting and well worth the effort to see the ruins of the ancient city.

We returned to Sorrento fro Pompeii exhausted and hungry. Inn Bufalito satisfied our hunger with traditional cuisine of the Campania Region.  This restaurant had been recommended by our guide book and lived up to its accolades. After a gelato from a small store on Vico I Fuoro we were ready for bed.

Tuesday morning did not come early for us.  After another great breakfast we had to catch up on email. I had some drawings to complete, and Claudette had to update her journal. Slowly we walked past the church and many shops across Piazza Tasso to the bus station. We were taking the bus to Amalfi. This town is on the coast and the scenic highway follows the coastline. There was a man at a folding table in front of the bus station selling tickets. After purchasing our tickets we climbed aboard the shiny new forty-five foot bus. When we had seemed to have waited forever and a day the bus was full. The driver climbed aboard, took his seat and we began our trip. The bus soon escaped the confines of the city, and drove across the peninsula from the Bay of Naples and  began to follow the coastline to the Bay of Salerno. Much of the road (SS163) which follows alongside the mountains joining the sea. Along the way are small plots of land being farmed and many citrus orchards.

The road to Amafli.

Along the two lane road there are many switchbacks. Two busses cannot meet on this part of the road; one must yield. We also stopped occasionally to pick up passengers. It was a very harrowing trip as we passed through small villages, seemingly miraculously attached to near vertical mountains. It is an exciting trip which reminded me of the road to Hana on the island of Maui. But in Italy I did not see rocks falling several hundred feet into the sea as we dislodged them in passing.  Upon reaching Amalfi the bus stopped, and we all exited. There were cafes and shops to relieve the weary tourist of his euros and a great overlook of the Bay of Salerno. The return to Sorrento was by the same route with the same stunning vistas. It is a very interesting and exciting twenty miles.

Upon our return to Sorrento we got a quick bite to eat and visited a grocery store.  It has been our practice to shop in a grocery in every country we've visited.  These grocery stores represent the local culture.  This is where regular people buy their food and we find it quite an adventure to shop for food. The butcher was quick to pick-up on the fact that we wanted sausages and cheese. He sliced them the way we wanted. After getting meat and cheese we wanted some fruit. There were apples, oranges, lemons, and other fruits in baskets on a table with a scale. But where was the price? I noticed that each basket had a different number.  I knew that everything is sold by the kilo, and I had to weigh everything. (a kilogram is about two pounds.) When I placed two apples on the scale I saw that if I put the basket number in the keypad a ticket was printed out with the price of my apples. It had a sticky back so it stuck to the the plastic bag with the apples inside. Pretty cool! After finding some bread we checked out.

At breakfast Wednesday morning we found out from one of the breakfast guests that we could catch the boat to Capri behind Piazza Tasso. There was an open gate through which we walked

Stairway to the street.

onto a small landing at street level. Stairways zig-zagged vertically to the street a hundred feet below leading to the boat landing. Of course we had to wait about one half hour for the boat then went on a fast boat ride to the island of Capri. Vendors plied their trades up and down the aisles on the boat. We were approached by an older Italian man announcing, "I'ma Luigi.  I giva you a tour of the island.  Only twenty euros!" We exchanged glances and coughed up the forty euros. Luigi looked like he had been a boxer in his youth, still well muscled after some seven plus decades. There were deep set very dark eyes under bushy white eyebrows which matched his wavy white hair. His mouth had a perpetual smile and you could get a glimpse of his pearly whites. He quickly took our money and stuck a small round blue sticker on our shirts. "I see you ona the dock," he said as he adjusted the knot in the sleeves of the sweater around his neck as he walked away. I'm sure I heard a collective sigh from every blue-haired lady tourist on the boat. But Claudette and I  looked at each other questioning if we had just been hoodwinked.

The boat docked at Capri, which is the name of one of the cities on the island. The harbor was picture perfect.  There were colorful fishing boats bobbing in the beautiful blue water which had a

Harbor at Capri.

sparkle from the brilliant Mediterranean sun. And sure enough, Luigi was there scurrying around like a mother hen gathering up her chicks.  He found us with round blue stickers and led us to a minibus. There were about twenty of us aboard. As it began to move Luigi announced that we were his means of his livelihood and that he was grateful for our joining him on this tour of his home.

The little bus slowly moved up the mountains as Luigi described the landscape we passed. There were vineyards, orchards, and small farms.  The soil appeared to be very rocky. All tilled soil as well as untilled land was sloping. I don't believe there was a flat place on the island. After many switchbacks of the mountain road we reached Anacapri, the other city on the island. It is obviously a tourist destination with all the shops that beckon tourists.  Luigi led us to one such shop to sample lemoncello and chocolate. The former is a lemon liqueur indigenous to the southwestern coast of Italy. Purist say that it can only be made from a particular variety of lemons grown in that area. Basically it is lemon zest or peel without pith steeped in grain alcohol and mixed with a simple syrup. Each producer has their own recipe. It resembles liquid fire when swallowed. However, taking a bite of chocolate with it produces a divine sensation that I'm afraid cannot be adequately described with the English language.  After this even Luigi led us to the chairlift which at its zenith would provide one with an unprecedented panoramic view of the island. But not this one. I have a strong preference to keep my feet firmly planted on terra firma.  Claudette and I strode about a bit and enjoyed the views of Capri far below. We had a cappuccino under an olive tree at a small piazza and enjoyed people watching. On the way back

A street in Anacapri.

Sampling lemoncello.

we stopped by the main shopping district for the shoppers in our group. On the way down the mountains to the marina to catch the boat back to Sorrento Luigi burst into song.  His rich baritone voice filled the small bus with "Arrivederci Capri" as he substituted Capri for Roma in the famous song. And the aforementioned blue-haired tourists ladies swooned.

It was an uneventful trip back to Sorrento  and after window shopping a bit we had a quiet dinner at Parrucchiano near our lodgings.  The food and service was excellent.  I had wanted to eat some polenta while in Italy and had not found it on the menu until Sorrento.  I had fried polenta as a side dish. It was great very similar to fried grits in the southern United States. This restaurant was unusual as well. It would have probably served two hundred people. Upstairs we were surrounded by a garden which must have been on the rooftops. Such a great way to finish off our delightful stay on the Italian coast. The next day would find us on a train bound for Rome.  I would be explaining to an Englishman that the biscuits and gravy referred to by a man from Montana did not include the kind of biscuits he was familiar with in England.

Capri from above.