The Food Project 20th Anniversary Gala

On Wednesday evening Neenah and I attended The Food Project's (TFP) 20th Anniversary gala "20 Years of Growing Together". It was a spectacular event. It was held at the WGBH studios in Brighton and the venue was packed with TFP staff, supporters, and guests, and food stations featuring locally grown cuisine (a good portion grown by TFP youth) prepared by some of the area's top eateries. The gala was a celebration of TFP's accomplishments and growth, and an invitation for continued support of this amazing organization.

The guest speakers for the event were Gordon Hamersley, one of the most respected chefs in Boston, and Frances Moore Lappé, author or co-author of 18 books including Diet for a Small Planet. However, I have to say that our emcee, Robert Lewis, Jr., VP for Programs at The Boston Foundation, really made the event. Toward the end of the night he acted as the auctioneer, helping to auction off a variety of donated items and services, from catered dinners prepared and served by TFP youth, to a beautiful quilt. Two things really struck me: One, I had never seen a man speak so quickly and think even faster on his feet. Two, the level of bidding quickly rose well beyond anything I would have imagined, and I think I wasn't the only one who kept stock still for fear of signaling a bid. But it was fun to watch and gratifying to see individuals with the means and desire to support The Food Project. Of course, TFP relies not just on big donors for support. This organization needs the support of many people, at all levels, to keep doing its work for another two decades.

Since 1991, The Food Project has engaged high school students from diverse neighborhoods across the greater Boston area to grow sustainable food, and through this activity, engage in both social and personal change. The youth who participate are placed in unusually responsible roles where they learn about the land, each other, and the environmental and social justice issues challenging our society - and ways to personally and collectively facilitate positive change. Food from the farms is distributed through TFP's community supported agriculture programs and farmers' markets, and donated to local hunger relief organizations.

TFP is an unusual organization that operates at the nexus of environment, youth, and community. I have been a member of the Board of Trustees of this organization for more than two years now, and I invite you to learn about this wonderful organization and its good works. You can learn more at http://thefoodproject.org/. To contribute to or get involved with the The Food Project, visit http://thefoodproject.org/get-involved.

New England Environmental Justice Summit

On Saturday, June 9 I attended the first New England Environmental Justice Summit, which was convened at Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts. This was a day-long event to connect community activists and residents, environmental justice advocates, lawyers, and policymakers from all six New England States who are interested in the environment and public health in low income communities and communities of color. This was a significant event to create a regional consciousness and network around environmental justice in New England. This event was two years in the making and credit goes to the core partners who pulled it off:

• Norbert Kovacs, Connecticut Coalition for Environmental Justice
• Sheri Neely, Fairfield County Environmental Justice Network
• Staci Rubin, Alternatives for Community and Environment (ACE)
• Steve Fischbach, Rhode Island Legal Services

The day started off with a hearty breakfast, a welcome from youth organizers, and then opening comments from two officials from the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA): Curt Spalding, Administrator for EPA's New England Region (Region 1), and Lisa Garcia, Senior Advisor to the Administrator for Environmental Justice. The EPA speakers affirmed their support for environmental justice work, citing a number of national initiatives (Plan EJ 2014, Partnership for Sustainable Communities, Healthy Communities Map (EJView Mapper) and local accomplishments (Fairmont Line in Boston), and assured everyone that environmental justice is EPA Administrator Lisa Jackson's top priority.

Energy Justice

After the opening comments, I attended the workshop on "Fairness & Energy Justice." Facilitator Rev. Bob Murphy from Cape Cod introduced us to the concept of "energy justice" and asserted that "Energy is a human rights issue." The goal of energy justice, he explained, is "to provide all people, in all places, with an adequate supply of energy that is safe, affordable, and sustainable." Energy, like most basics in life (i.e. food, clothing, shelter), is both vital and dangerously scarce for low income households and communities. Lack of access to safe, affordable, and sustainable energy creates all kinds of hardships: hypothermia in the winter, hyperthermia in the summer (not just uncomfortable, but deadly for the very young and old, as well as those with chronic diseases), and of course, economic strain.

We heard from three speakers on different energy justice issues. Judy Diamondstone and Scott Guzman from Worcester Energy Barnraisers talked about their organization's work to promote environmental sustainability as well as social and economic justice though collaborative home energy efficiency projects. Their modus operandi is an energy barn-raising - an event where the community gets together and spends the day working to weatherize a house, making it more energy-efficient. They've modeled their work on that done by HEET (Home Energy Efficiency Team) in Cambridge. It's worth noting that Massachusetts already has a state ratepayer-funded program in which utilities collect a fee from all customers in order to fund energy efficiency upgrades and weatherization projects. Through the MassSave program, homeowners can get a free "energy audit" and qualify for a variety of free or subsidized efficiency and weatherization improvements: CFL bulbs, door sweeps, weather stripping around windows and doors, insulation of walls. The problem is that the contractors for this program will not work on homes that are complicated by "pre-weatherization" issues: where there is knob and tube wiring, a dirt basement floor, asbestos, or mold. These "pre-weatherization" issues are common in old homes throughout New England, and especially so in lower income homes. The result is that households that could use this help the most are essentially shut out of the benefits of this program (which, it should be remembered, they have paid into through their utility bills). Judy and Scott argued that advocates need to promote funding to address these issues so that these program benefits can be realized for those who most need them. Worcester Energy Barnraisers attempt to fill this gap in Worcester by doing work that MassSave contractors will not.

Other issues stymie these public programs for weatherization. The households most in need of weatherization (to save money, improve their quality of life, and promote energy sustainability) are renters. However, renters have little incentive or authority to invest in a building that do they do not own. Landlords often have little incentive either, especially if energy costs are passed on to renters. Advocates who work on these energy justice issues suspect that, as a result of these and other barriers, the benefits of rate-payer funded energy efficiency programs are being largely or entirely captured by middle and upper-middle income homeowners. This is a potentially serious and regressive public policy problem. However, the data to evaluate the situation are hard to come by. Utilities and contractors that implement these programs have been reluctant to share their data.

Dan Gilbarg of the Coalition for Social Justice and Coalition Against Poverty (CSJ & CAP) spoke about his organization's work with with the Green Justice Coalition to push utilities and the Massachusetts Energy Efficiency Advisory Council to create a publicly accessible database that would allow the public, and especially energy justice advocates, to monitor how these public energy efficiency programs are being implemented, who is benefiting, what neighborhoods are or are not being served, etc. There is a bill pending in the state House Ways and Means Committee to create such a database. I and my student Adam Kohn (who just graduated) have been working on this very same issue, interviewing Massachusetts community organizations involved with energy issues to understand their energy data needs and barriers to energy program implementation. I will post more on our work later.

Dan was joined by Kate Archand, a community activist from Brockton, Massachusetts, who spoke about her organization's efforts to prevent the siting of a fossil fuel-fired power plant in Brockton. Citing a report by Dr. Danny Faber at Northeastern University, Kate pointed out that Brockton is the 9th most environmentally overburdened state in the Commonwealth and one of the top four in terms of asthma rates. The fight over this power plant has been going on for more than five years at this point, and has drawn in numerous community and environmental justice organizations from around the state. CSJ & CAP, in collaboration with StopthePower, have worked to keep residents in Brockton informed about the positions of their elected officials regarding the power plant."

The state of environmental justice

After the morning session, Danny Faber reviewed the current environmental justice issues facing Massachusetts and the country. He argued that the GOP has launched an unprecedented attack on environmental policies, regulations and institutions, and the movement for environmental justice itself. At the same time, the forces that create environmental injustices are still at work, targeting and exploiting communities that are fragmented by race, ethnicity, and language. Drawing largely on his 2005 report, Unequal Exposure to Ecological Hazards, he rattled off a variety of statistics about the very inequitable distribution of environmental burdens in Massachusetts. Although inequitable burden is the quintessential environmental injustice, Faber asserted that the goal of environmental justice is not for everyone to be polluted equally. Rather, it is to prevent anyone from being polluted. He argued that environmental justice communities need to align themselves with all communities, including more privileged communities, in order to make headway. This is a positive argument that he makes eloquently in his 2008 book Capitalizing on Environmental Injustice. I reviewed this book for the Northeastern Geographer. As I noted in the review, Faber's message is positive, but it is still problematic because he essentially asks the environmental justice community to abandon its focus on institutional discrimination and to focus instead on a class-based, political economic identity.

Safe Housing

After lunch I attended the afternoon workshop "Healthy Housing: A Way to Connect Rural & Urban EJ." This workshop was led by Laura Brion, Childhood Lead Action Project in Providence, Rhode Island, Mary Sliney, from the The Way Home in Manchester, New Hampshire, and Meghaan Tollman from Visible Community in Lewiston, Maine. They each talked about their program work, which revolved largely around safe and affordable housing issues in urban communities: lead contamination, dealing with bed bug infestations, support for immigrant residents, dealing with city government and landlords. The take-home message was about the value of community organizing as an effective and efficient way to deliver services, to educate community members, and of course, to mobilize residents for policy and political action.

Community and Government dialogue

Following the afternoon workshop, everyone reconvened in the main hall for a government and community dialogue. Federal (EPA, HUD, FEMA) and state government representatives sat on the platform along with a group of community representatives to discuss questions from the community. The questions were overly general, as were the answers. It is clearly important for the community to have informal and safe settings to interact with government officials and kudos to the organizers for arranging this opportunity. There is still a lot of distrust and misunderstanding and I could hear it from the community members and activists around me. A lot of work to do still.

Updates on the status and upcoming activities of this New England Environmental Justice coalition can be found at neej.wikidot.com and on New England Environmental Justice Forum on Facebook.

Return to Amalfi

On my final full day in Italy I decided to return to Amalfi. I was hoping to catch a boat there, rather than a repeat bus trip along the coast. Despite being a major port, there is no regular boat service there until April. Back to the bus. As it turned out, it wasn't so bad. The bus station is less than a block from the hotel. For 7 euros, you get a 24-hour pass to get on and off the SITA public buses, which run frequently and extensively throughout the Sorrento peninsula and the Amalfi coast. The bus was clean and comfortable, not unlike our cushy tour bus. Even though the SITA buses stop everywhere and anywhere, we got to Amalfi in under an hour and a half - faster than the tour bus did. It was still a little hair-raising, especially for those on the bus who hadn't done the trip before. I have to admit that I felt a little green under the gills this time too.

I had three goals for my solo Amalfi trip: 1) look for a majolica or high quality ceramic serving dish; 2) visit the paper mill museum I'd read about in my guidebook; and 3) do a short hike up the river valley to see the mill ruins I'd also read about. I intended to start with the hike. According to Frommer's, one great hike in Amalfi is an easy walk along the Valle dei Mulini (Valley of the Mills), which is the valley of the Torrente Canneto, Amalfi's small river. Starting in the Piazza Duomo, with the towering Amalfi Cathdral glitttering on my right, I made my way north and up the narrow street of Via Genova. This road leads through the medieval heart of the city. Via Genova, with its shiny black basalt cobblestones, wends narrowly between tall white washed buildings and beneath arched porticos. Both sides of the street are densely packed with shops of all kinds and eateries and bustling with activity of both tourists and locals. Steep stairways and "supporticos" (enclosed passageways that honeycomb through and beneath the buildings) intersect with the street at regular intervals, and these lead off, shadowed and maze-like, although bright, hand-painted, tile signs promise even more eating and shopping opportunities.

Via Genova turns into Via Capuano about 200 meters north of the piazza. At this distance from the city center,fewer people were around, the shops and cafes nearly empty. The road steepened but also opened up. In the distance, I could now see a narrow valley with pale orange cliffs. Around me, white washed walls gave way to older stone-colored buildings set further back from the road. From steel grates in the road I could hear the distinct rush of water - the Torrente Canneto as it ran unseen through some cavern or sewer beneath the city. I followed the signs for the Valle dei Mullini and for the Museo della Carta (Museum of Paper). At the top of a bend in the road I passed beneath a red portico and found the Museo della Carta readily enough - an ancient looking stone facade with wooden water wheels in front (I planned to come back after the hike). I continued walking for another hundred feet and the road ended. In my path was a wooden gate and a sign that said "private property - no entrance" (that's all I could translate from the Italian). Indeed, beyond the gate looked like nothing more than a small parking lot for an apartment complex. I could clearly see the river valley in the distance but no way to get there. To my right was the ubiquitous raised stone terrace on which grew lemon trees. To my right was a stone building, likely an old paper mill. Along this building, and below the level of the street, a stone sluice carried a shallow stream of water for about 30 feet before disappearing again. The Torrente Canneto, I presumed. I asked a man, "Dové Valle dei Mullini?" He responded, "This it. No more." "No more?" I asked. "No more," he affirmed. Two paper mills and 30 feet of stream is the Valle dei Mullini. My confusion and disappointment must have been familiar because he looked at me tiredly and walked away. I decided to visit the Museo della Carta.

According to Frommer's, Amalfi is believed to be the first European location where paper was made. The process, learned and adapted from the Arabs, used recycled cotton, linen, and hemp rags and came to be known as "Amalfi paper." This cloth paper was considered less durable than parchment or vellum (made out of animal skin), and in 1250 was forbidden for public use. Nevertheless, the paper industry continued to develop and Amalfi paper was sold throughout Europe during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. This paper was made entirely by hand until the 18th century when machines were finally introduced. At that time there were 16 paper mills in the area. According to Frommer's, 10 are still active today.

The Museo della Carta is situated in one of the abandoned paper mills. When I entered the museum, the man at the front asked me to sign my name in a large leather-bound visitor's ledger. He provided me with a quill pen and an ink well. I immediately liked this place. For four euros one of the two young men running the place took me on a dedicated tour. In the lower floor of the building is the old work area which is filled with the original tools and machines. My guide walked me through the interactive process. The mill was powered by water from the Torrente Canneto, which was run through a maze of stone sluices to a wooden water wheel, which then provided the motive power to run machinery that shreds and pounds the cloth into a mushy poultice. It's important to understand that this machinery is mostly made out of wood with only a few metal parts. According to my guide, the equipment in the building dates back to the 15th century - and it still works. While I stood by, he went upstairs and opened up a sluice to let river water in, causing the water wheel to turn, which then set a row of wooden hammers (made out of local chestnut) into action, moving up and down, metal spikes on the business end pounding away at wet cloth. The product drained into a large stone vat, creating what looked like watery oatmeal. He handed me a wood frame with a fine metal mesh and told me to dip it into the vat (like panning for gold), bringing up a lumpy film of the cloth poultice. We then pressed/rolled this lumpy mess carefully onto a felt mat (sheepskin). Even though it was far from done, I could already see what the paper would look like - including the Amalfi watermark which I had not noticed was embossed into the metal mesh. If we were to complete the process, the next steps would be to press it beneath layers of felt to squeeze out the water, using a giant screw press, let it dry further in the sun, and then iron it. The result is beautiful and very durable paper.

In the 19th century, a process for making paper from wood pulp was introduced. With rapid development of increasingly efficient machinery, wood pulp paper almost completely replaced cloth-based paper. The wood pulp-based product is what almost all of us know. However, cloth-based paper is still used for special occasions or important documents where archiving is important. Indeed, the oldest sheets still in existence date from the 13th and 14th centuries. The Vatican uses Amalfi paper exclusively for all of its correspondence. I bought some decorative examples from the museum gift shop, which were produced by the local working mills. My guide told me that this quality paper will last a thousand years. I kept the receipt.

After the museum visit it was time for lunch. I sat in the outdoor patio of a nice pizzeria restaurant just a short distance away. I had pizze Romana - mozzarella, garlic, capers, and anchovies, on a thin, and unevenly shaped, crust. I sat out there on the patio, people watching, enjoying my pizza (with knife and fork, of course), and washing it all down with a bottle of sparkling water and a half liter carafe of red wine (which I could not finish, of course). I took my time eating. This is something the Italians are brilliant at - the proper pacing of a meal. The weather was comfortable and everything around me seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. Well fed and buzzing warmly from the wine, I decided to try hiking again.

The guide at the museum pointed out a small side street that I hadn't noticed directly across from the museum. It was a narrow and unremarkable asphalt street that rose at a really steep angle. I followed the road. At first it looked like I was simply walking into another apartment complex but then I noticed a woman walking up an unusually long and steep set of stone stairs that hugged the hillside in the direction of the valley. I followed. The stairs were steep and seemed to rise without end. The woman ahead of me was carrying groceries and moving at a good pace without pause. I was flushed and panting and imagining a headline in the local papers: "Out-of-shape American collapses from heart attack on stairs; carried to safety by old woman." Eventually the stairs leveled off onto a relatively gentle, paved stone path. To my right was the side of the hill or mountain, held back by a high, stone terrace wall. To my left a low stone wall separated the path from a steep drop to the river valley below. This was it.

The stone path followed the contour of the valley wall, rising ever higher up into the mountainous valley. On the opposite side of the valley the cliff walls glowed pale orange in the afternoon light, streaked by black varnish and capped with the dark, olive green of pine trees and oaks. Looking back down the valley I could see the tops of the white limestone hills that face the Amalfi harbor.

As I made my way up the stone path I passed terraced lemon groves, hanging on the steep valley edge, where workers were tilling the soil and organizing straight wooden poles to make repairs to trellises. At the bottom of the valley, along the river, the facades of mill ruins began to peak through - multi-story buildings with little left except for the outer walls, the window arches and the edge of once terracotta tiled roofline. This was the path of the Mulino Rovinato (Ruined Mill) I'd read about. These mills once milled flower for pasta before local production was undermined by superior production up north. As I continued up the stone path, the vistas grew more spectacular. Looking back down the valley I could appreciate the amazing terracing of houses and lemon groves, almost all covered with the protective dark green and black netting. In front of me, emerald green rock lizards scurried out of my way and up the walls, diving into the numerous crevices of the walls where flowers and weeds poked out of the stone.

I continued deeper into the valley, and the stone walkway and walls eventually gave way to an unimproved dirt path. The river was now much closer and the valley less deep. The air grew damp and cool and the vegetation more dense, shading the path with a continuous canopy of trees. All along the path, little clumps of bright blue and yellow flowers (I suspect spring bulbs) lit the way. I came across more stone and brick ruins and facades, this time along the path and covered with thick vines, moss and ferns. Dark, open doorways of these old buildings seemed to lead down steps into ruins nearer the river. It was like walking through a ghost town. As I continued up the valley, the ruins looked older. I suspect that I was in the Vallone delle Ferreire (Valley of the Iron Mills). According to Frommer's, these have been here since the Middle Ages and were actually operational until the 19th century. The hike was growing steeper, although now I was walking alongside the river, which cascaded down small waterfalls and into rocky step pools. I stopped at one of the more impressive arched ruins that straddled the river. It was getting late and the sun was setting, so I headed back.

One of the more impressive elements of this landscape for me is all the masonry. I am reminded of accounts I've read about European visitors to the U.S. in the in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, who commented on the extraordinary abundance and (seemingly wasteful) use of wood for everything, from excessive heating of homes to the construction of buildings. For Europeans, wood had long been an expensive commodity. Their cheaper materials were stone and labor. For this American visitor, the abundance of masonry and the incredible amount of labor that it implies is almost inconceivable.

I made it back to Amalfi's main piazza by late afternoon. I poked around a little bit to inspect the ceramics, but I was tired and the prices were all over the place. I boarded a return bus. The trip back was uneventful (and faster, if you can believe it). The sun was setting as we pulled into Sorrento. The last evening. Half of our group (including myself) needed to be on the bus by 4:30am the next morning to catch a 7am flight from Naples. So long Italy!

Pompeii and Napoli

In the 16th century, workers in Pompeii who were digging a canal accidentally encountered ruins buried in the soft volcanic soil of the area. It wasn't until the 18th century that people realized that what had been found were the ruins of an ancient Roman town. However, systematic scientific excavation of the site did not really begin until the late 19th century. Archaeologists and historians now explain that the ancient city of Pompeii was founded by the Etruscans over 2,000 years ago and then colonized by the Romans in 80 B.C. In 79 A.D., Mt. Vesuvius erupted unexpectedly burying the town (as well as its people) under 20 feet of volcanic ash and pumice, erasing all traces of this town of 35,000 for two millennia. Its discovery has changed our understanding of how those ancient people lived and it is the most important historical site in Italy. Pompeii was our objective for the day.

Morning started with a light breakfast at the hotel: coffee, bread, and salami. We boarded our buses and got onto the only highway out of Sorrento and into epic traffic. As our exasperated tour guide Gino explained, the Italian government waits until tourist season begins to start roadwork, usually in the middle of the week, just as the morning rush hour is beginning. But, the weather was beautiful and the vistas breathtaking. The traffic eventually lightened up and we made our way along the edge of the Bay of Naples with Mt. Vesuvius  dominating the vista across the water. All around its base the area is densely built up, with no break between the municipalities. As we neared Vesuvius we entered the denser and more modest residential areas. For the most part they were multi-story apartment buildings, usually 4 stories high, with gray, pink or yellow walls, but all with red tiled roofs. Every balcony was full of hanging laundry and plants in terracotta pots. They are set back from the highway, often with modest gardens between the buildings and the road. The commercial center of modern Pompei is unremarkable and even somewhat shabby (reminiscent of small Mexican cities in Baja).

  

Pompeii is an extensive archaeological site - about a square mile in area. Approximately 75% of it has been uncovered. This was clearly a dense and wealthy urban center - wide streets of black basalt flagstones, block upon block of buildings with shared walls made up of multi-colored tufa rock, thin red bricks, cement, thick plaster, and marble columns. Most of the buildings had lost their roofs, except for the public baths and a brothel (one of the few places with intact frescoes depicting available services). Interestingly, those few roofs that were intact were covered in familiar red terracotta tiles. Some of the buildings still have colorfully plastered or tiled floors and walls, particularly the public baths, although the vast majority of the detachable antiquities have either been stolen or moved to the museum in Napoli. The temple of Apollo still has bronze statues of Apollo and his sister Diana. The ruins are a  photographer's dream. Abundant arches and long straight roads provide constant depth of field. The site was filled with tour groups speaking a dozen different languages. Lots of school groups too. It was a fast paced tour. Gino did a great job explaining various sites, but it was hard to keep up with him and still take the time to take careful photographs. In total, we only spent about two hours at the site. I could have spent another five.   For lunch a subset of our group had paid ahead for a meal at a local restaurant. It was mediocre: bruschetta, lasagna, beer, and a pastry. Sharon and I were dying for a coffee, but it wasn't part of the deal (Note: My experience thus far is that Italy is not really a coffee culture, despite the image of sophisticated espresso sippers.  For the most part it's instant or boiled, and believe me, I've been looking).

After lunch our entire group boarded the bus and we continued north to Naples to visit the museum where most of the Roman antiquities are housed. The trip from Pompeii to Naples is an interesting one because the highway skirts around the base of Mt. Vesuvius and two things become very apparent: 1) Vesuvius is not only tall (1281 meters) but truly massive; and 2) its slopes are densely (some might say suicidally) settled. Vulcanologists define regions around the still active volcano in terms of their exposure or level of risk. The "red" region encompasses an area occupied by over 3 million people and, as Gino delightfully pointed out, encompasses the highway we were traveling on. It last erupted in 1941, and is due to do so again.

Napoli (Naples) is the third largest city in Italy and the second largest port. It is a large, sprawling and gritty city. It is full of beautiful architecture ranging from the Middle Ages (massive stone battlements and remnant castle walls), to elegant 19th century apartment buildings, to modern steel and glass skyscrapers, but most of it seemed to be suffering under a layer of sooty grunge. The streets are barely controlled chaos, filled with tiny cars going in every direction with no visible lanes or even street signals. Pedestrians cross randomly through 8 lanes of chaotic traffic because there are no crosswalks. Everyone on the bus was gasping at the site of it all and laughing nervously. Somehow our bus navigated through this mess without incident.

We went to the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli (Archaeological Museum of Naples) where the vast majority of the classical antiquities recovered from Pompeii and other Greek and Roman sites have been preserved and put on display. This is an impressive museum. Gino, whose professional background is archaeology, led our group through the museum, focusing his lecture on the most important Roman artifacts. We started with the massive marble statues of mythological figures on the first and second floors. I was really taken with the statue of Hercules. This marble giant towers at least 20 feet high. It is a curly-haired and massively muscular Hercules, looking somewhat exhausted after completing the 12 labors to become immortal. He leans to his left against a short column with a lion skin under his left arm, while he holds the three golden apples behind his back with his right hand. When this statue was discovered in the 1500s, his head was missing. Michelangelo sketched the design for a head to be added and then handed the design over to another artist to execute the work. According to Gino, this other guy botched the job because Hercules's head is not proportional to his body - it's too small. I dunno ... giant muscular body and small head ... doesn't look odd to me.

From the statues we moved on to another floor to view the tile mosaics that had been recovered from Roman villas and public areas of Pompeii and other sites. These mosaics are complex and brilliantly colored and they depict a vast array of subject matter, from historical events to everyday scenes of life. A number were mythological and kind of creepy. However, the highlight of the museum tour, at least for me, was our arrival at the Gabinetto Segreto (Secret Cabinet) - a display of erotic Roman art. Lots of phalluses and sexual jokes. Very explicit depictions, both in painting and sculpture, of a lot of different kinds of sexual behavior. Homosexual behavior among men (but not women) was a common theme, as was beastiality. Interestingly, Gino commented earlier in the tour that pedophilia was openly practiced, or at least referenced, by both the Greeks and the Romans. He mentioned this (somewhat quietly) to explain a number of mythological marble sculptures on the lower floors. However, as far as I could tell, there was no such depiction or reference in the Gabinetto Segreto exhibit. In any case, the great tragedy was that my camera batteries died just as I got to this exhibit (grrrrr). BUT, thank the gods for cell phone cameras! As they say, blurry sex is better than no sex. The last exhibit was of frescoes that had been rescued. These are very colorful, but we had little time to really look. Back to the bus and to Sorrento.

For dinner Larry, Sharon, and I and another couple went out in search of a pasta-free dinner.

Capri

The island of Capri (pronounced cap - ry, not ca - pree) is a rugged island about 3 miles out from the tip of the Sorrento peninsula, and it is perennially overrun by tourists. It reminds me somewhat of Cape Cod - truly beautiful and yet obnoxiously oversold. The island is fairly large and as mountainous and steep and as vertiginous as the Amalfi Coast. It is in fact the remnant rim of a once massive volcano - the crater being the bay. Capri has been occupied for at least 2,000 years. A few ancient Greek structures are still visible, such as a 900-step stone staircase that connects the upper level villages with the water's edge. The island has long attracted the elite. One of the most famous inhabitants was the Roman emperor Tiberius who constructed the Villa Jovis - a "pleasure palace" (in the naughtiest sense), the ruins of which sit atop one of the highest points on the island with a peerless view of the bay and coastline. There are a lot of historic and natural attractions on Capri, but even my jovial guidebook seemed to convey a hint of weariness.

As usual, the day started with an early morning breakfast at the hotel: prosciutto, cheese, egg, coffee. The tour coordinator had arranged a package tour of Capri, which included all transportation and a guide for the island, but a few of us decided to strike out on our own in order to control the agenda and save some money. I joined my friends Larry and Sharon. After breakfast we walked down to Marina Piccola (the marina) where we hurriedly bought tickets on the next hydrofoil ferry to the island. We arrived at the boarding point just in time to watch our ferry leave without us. Larry and I returned to the ticket booth to exchange our tickets for the next ferry, which, as it turned out, was the same one for the pre-arranged package tour group.

It took about 30 minutes to cross the water and we docked at Marina Grande on the northern side of the island. The first thing that struck me as we walked off the ferry was the clarity and color of the water - sort of a glowing turquoise. It's all the more striking against the dark volcanic rock of the island shore. From the dock, the island appears huge - so vertical that it appears to loom over you. Mountainous Capri rises straight up out of the sea, like a group of immense, craggy towers. Yet, just as on the Amalfi Coast, whole villages of white washed buildings seem to have grown on its steep cliffsides.

We stopped at the tourist office to pick up a map of the island. They had run out of English language maps. It was either German or Spanish. We opted for Spanish, which made me the official interpreter of directions (woe unto us). We then got in line to buy all-day passes for the local buses. While in line we bumped into a mother-daughter team from Salem - Sandy (mother) and Rachel (daughter) - and our impromptu group expanded to five. Tickets in hand, our group boarded the funicolare - a cog train that carried us part way up the mountain at a steep angle to the town of Capri (there is more than one town on the island).

The little town of Capri is medieval in its architecture, but fully modern in function - mostly shops and eateries. We bought sandwiches to carry and then set out to visit Villa Jovis. The map described it as a moderate, 45-minute hike. The town of Capri is very densely built at its center, somewhat similar to Ravello - a maze of narrow passages between multi-story buildings seemingly built into the natural mountain stone. As we moved out of the town center, the architecture changed dramatically. The pathways remained narrow and maze-like, but the walls shrank to only a few feet high, and on every side were now terraced, spacious properties with lemon groves, grape arbors, and artfully maintained gardens. The decoratively gated entrances were usually draped with grape vines or ivy, and the stone walls thick with moss and lichen. Aside from the main piazza in the town center of Capri, level ground appears to be rare on the island. It was a beautiful but constantly steep walk as we made our way toward our destination, yet consistently paved and walled on each side. As we neared our destination, the manicured properties were replaced by untamed brush and pine trees. We could just see the ruins peaking at us from a distant point, though mostly hidden behind trees. The hike had us all flushed, and despite the cool breeze, everyone had stripped off their jackets. We took a few wrong turns, stumbling through the brush, but eventually we made it to the entrance gate where we were greeted by a family of small, brown goats. They seemed surprised to see us, although we weren't expecting them either. According to Frommer's, Capri gets its name from the ancient Greek word kapriae, which means "island of wild goats." Frommer's then quips that "indeed, only goats can tread these steep slopes and cliffs with ease." Clearly the Greeks were being a little more literal than that. Opening the gate, we entered a small, tree-shaded courtyard. At the opposite end was a railing where the ground dropped away and we were presented with a panoramic view of the sea on the east side of the island. We only got a minute to enjoy the view before a group of workers scolded us because the site was closed. They shooed us back out the gate. We were not going to get to see Villa Jovis after all. We sat on the little wall outside the gate and had our sandwiches while the little goats watched.

We walked back down into the town of Capri where we had coffee and sat out on the patio of the coffee shop. After our coffee break, we boarded a bus to take us further up the island to the next town of Anacapris. Anacapris appears to be not quite as old or medieval as Capris - wider streets and newer looking buildings - but it boasts a number of beautiful churches. The most remarkable one is the Church of San Michele. The floor of the church is majolica - beautifully painted tiles comprising a massive mural of a scene in the Garden of Eden. It is amazing. In order to protect the floor, visitors can only walk on raised wooden platforms on the outer edges of the floor along the walls. Pictures are allowed, but no flash. Definitely worth the trouble. After the church we caught a bus back down to the marina and boarded the hydrofoil back to Sorrento.