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.

Amalfi Coast

The Amalfi Coast is that stretch of steep and twisted and rocky coast stretching (or maybe writhing) between Positano, on the Tyrrhenian Sea, and Salerno, on the Gulf of Salerno. This is one of the most celebrated coasts in the world, and has been for at least two millennia. Although it was known to Roman elites, it's remoteness and nearly impenetrable topography made overland access virtually impossible until the mid 19th century when the newly formed Republic of Italy constructed a road to connect the scattered towns and villages that hang on the near vertical sea cliffs. Before the new road, access was only by boat or donkey.

After an early breakfast of various hams, cheese, bread and coffee at the hotel, our group of over 100 boarded four buses for a an all day tour of the Amalfi Coast. If you have had the opportunity of driving on Pacific Coast Highway along California's coast between San Francisco and Santa Barbara, let me just say that the Amalfi Coast drive is more spectacular, steeper, narrower, twistier, and scarier by far. Don't get me wrong. The road itself is in excellent condition, as are the two-foot high guardrails, but how our mammoth bus could navigate hairpin turns with only inches to spare for oncoming vehicles to squeeze past on one side while on the other side we stared down cliffs that plunged for 500 feet, I will never know. I was on the bus with mostly students. When we boarded the bus at the hotel, many had stumbled aboard still bleary eyed from partying the night before, although alert enough to grab choice seats on the right side of the bus where, our guide informed us, the view would be best. Now, as we actually skirted the rocky heights, there was a furious shuffling of seats as many discovered what vertigo feels like. The two girls sitting behind me, so jocular and cocky when we began our trip, were now hyperventilating and asking to be let off anywhere. They would get back by foot or donkey ... "just please stop the bus," they pleaded. Nevertheless, we all made it to our first stop, a panoramic view of Positano.

Positano a is town of white washed buildings built on steep terraces to the sea. There are few drivable roads through the town. In fact, the passage of our bus seemed to be quite disruptive. Moving vertically between terraces means walking up or down steep stone staircases. Apparently there are no disabled people in Positano. All of the little sea cliff towns we passed through seemed similarly organized. The buildings themselves seemed to grow straight out of the white limestone cliffs. All around these hamlets were lemon groves. The latter are almost always laid out on their own raised stone terraces along the otherwise steep sided terrain. Most were covered by black netting, apparently to defend the blossoms from rough spring weather. Someone said it was to protect the lemons from maurauding birds. The integrity of the lemon skins is particularly important for the production of limoncello. We didn't spend any time in Positano, but moved on to Amalfi.

Amalfi dates back to the 6th century and grew as a harbor under the Byzantine Empire. It eventually became an independent city-state by the mid 800s, and was Italy's first maritime republic, before either Pisa or Venice. During the Middle Ages its mills produced paper for much of Europe. The long history of settlement and wealth is very apparent. As soon we entered the central square, the Piazza Duomo, we were struck by the immense and beautiful Cathedral of Amalfi. It dates to the 9th century and is an example of Arabo-Norman architecture - a majestic facade of gold leaf and majolica, and an amazing and massive 11th century bronze door made in Constantinople. The cathedral is topped by a Romanesque bell tower. You approach the cathedral by walking up an imposing staircase that leads into an atrium covered in black and white marble. Inside the cathedral (entrance fee 3 euros) the design is rich baroque. We walked down into the 13th century crypt, which itself is richly decorated, and the resting place for the remains of the apostle St. Andrew, Christ's first disciple and the protector saint of Amalfi.

From Amalfi we rode higher into the mountains to the town of Ravello, which still looks over the sea, albeit from a considerable height and distance. Ravello is a beautiful little town, founded in the 5th or 6th century by Roman patricians fleeing from the ransacking of Rome by barbarians. Through the Middle Ages it was a retreat for the wealthy and still reflects that heritage in the handsome buildings and former palaces. The heart of the town is the Piazza del Vescovado, a terrace overlooking the valley of the Dragone. We only had a little over an hour here to get lunch and look around. From the open piazza, Ravello spreads out in a maze of narrow stone passages cut directly into the side of the mountain and lined with shops and eateries. There was so much to see and so much wandering to do, but we barely had enough time to eat before rushing back to the bus.

From Ravello we continued up into the mountains, passing groves of chestnut trees (no leaves yet, but still some fruit) before we crossed over the ridgeline of the Monti Lattari and before us spread the broad coastal plain to the Gulf of Naples, with Mt Vesuvius dominating the skyline.
We made back to the hotel by 5pm. Time for a nap and the dinner at a quiet restaurant with wi fi access.

Sorrento

Sorrento is a spectacularly quaint city.  It is an ancient city - founded by the Greeks and built upon by Romans and a dozen succeeding societies, including the present one. The remnants of these earlier civilizations are everywhere visible, one period literally grafted onto an earlier one.  Modern, multi-story apartment buildings sit atop the rough stone blocks of Greek and Roman walls, while pedestrians, scooters and smart cars somehow manage to share narrow cobblestone streets from the Medieval era. And yet Sorrento still emerges as a harmonious and picturesque pastiche. In some places it seems as if both the new and modern city grew straight out of the rocky cliffs. It's hard to imagine where the original builders even started ... on stone steps that lead impossibly down along sheer walls to the bottoms of the deep ravines that cut through the city ... on finely chiseled stone and marble buildings perched precariously at the edge of vertical seaside cliffs that plunge hundreds of feet down to a thin lip of rocky beach.

I started my first full day in Sorrento with breakfast at the hotel (a boiled egg, slices of provolone cheese and fragrant prosciutto, bread, and coffee) and walked down to the tourism center to get some better maps of the city and suggestions on day hikes in the surrounding hills (more on that later).  I also stopped at a shop to buy a large scale map. The proprietress was sure I was either Italian or Spanish (from Spain), and we settled on Spanish. This happened in other places too, although most people were more comfortable with English rather than Spanish (my Italian vocabulary being shorter than this sentence). Maps and guidebook in hand, I sat on a sunny wrought iron bench in the Piazza S. Antonini to get my bearings and plan my day. It felt good in the sun with the cool wind. In fact it stayed breezy and cool all day (low 60s). The piazza is a well manicured patch of green surrounded by palm trees and the ever-present orange trees laden with fruit. From the piazza I went to the Church and Cloister of St. Francis (Chiesa e Chiostro S. Francesco). This monastary dates back to the 18th century, although it is made up of architectural elements literally taken from ancient "pagan" buildings. The inner cloister was particularly impressive - a meditative courtyard with a weeping willow and stone fountain surrounded by a walkway under Gothic arches. Rose vines twisted up the columns. Next door to the church is the Villa Comunale, a terrace at the edge of the seaside cliff above Marina San Francesco and with a panoramic view of the Bay of Naples and Vesuvius across the bay. The wind was really whipping here, but the view was wonderful. From here I made my way to Sorrento's 15th century cathedral. It's enormous and beautiful inside. It boasts a considerable variety of art from floor to arched and paneled ceilings, from a 16th century marble throne for the bishop, to 18th century paintings by Italian Renaissance masters, to 19th century wooden marquetry by Sorrentine craftsmen.

For lunch I treated myself to an Italian seafood extravaganza at Trattoria da Emilia along the Via Marina Grande (on the advice of my friends at Frommer's). It's a smallish place (about 6 tables) nestled at the bottom of the seaside cliff that is Sorrento's shore. To get there I walked the narrow cobbled streets of terraced apartments with their tiny wrought iron balconies, built on the still solid stone ruins of Greek and Roman walls. Variously colored reddish brown or gray, these moss-covered tufa brick walls were punctuated by the occasional alcove offering before the Virgin or other saints. The wind was blowing furiously as I approached the small restaurant. The wind was so strong and the water so close that I had to walk through sea spray to get to the door. Buongiorno. It was shellfish for me: lemon marinated mussels, gnocchi and clams (still in their multi-colored shells) in tomato sauce, and finally fried callamari (squid) and octopus, all washed down by a half liter of red table wine served in a small carafe (to think I almost agreed to a full liter!). Served at a leisurely pace, the meal was awesome, and I could finish none of it. In contrast to the other establishments in Sorrento, the portions were larger as was the staff.

After lunch I made my way to the Museo Bottega Della Tarsialignea which showcases the history of marquetry (inlaid wood) in Sorrento and is engaged in an effort to revive this craft amongst local artisans.  Marquetry craft (also known as intarsia) in Sorrento started in the early 19th century with French influence, and largely for export markets, especially English. It started with tables, a revival of a Renaissance tradition dating to 15th century religious work in Naples, and then extended to a variety of decorative applications, from books to combs. In the 19th century, marquetry in Sorrento picked up images of characteristic local activity - silk production and the growing of lemons (especially for export to the U.S.). The museum was well worth the time.

One of the more interesting aspects of Sorrento and the entire region is its long history as part of the Grand Tour, a must-see travel route initially for European elite dating to the early 17th century. For centuries this land has played an essential part on the Western imagination - a palimpsest for religious and poetic backdrops of classic nostalgia and classical ruins. Marquetry, like a lot of the well regarded artisanal activity from this region, has actually evolved in large part as a response to literally centuries of tourism. Tomorrow we visit the Amalfi Coast on our own Grand Tour.

Across the Atlantic

An hour out of Rome we flew into the sunrise and below us the French (or maybe Italian) Alps revealed themselves. A crinkled landscape of blue-black capped by the perennial white of snow and glaciers. In the distance an unending gauze of thick white clouds tinted pink by the morning sun.  I only caught a glimpse over the shoulders of my neighbors but it was breathtaking nonetheless.

As we arrived in Rome, the digital map on the seat in front of me showed that we had traveled for about 7.5 hours and over 4,100 miles. Local time of arrival was 7:30am (2:30am in Boston). Not a bad flight on Alitalia. The plane was very new with a slick entertainment system in each seat. The overhead light was nearly useless - weak LEDs. The most remarkable feature was the option to view live video from an outside camera mounted on the nose of the plane. My seatmate and I watched the takeoff and landing with giddy laughter. Interestingly, a lot of other people said it actually made them feel more secure being able to see what's going on up front.

From Rome we boarded a smaller plane an hour later to Naples (or Napoli). The flight was less than an hour. At the Napoli airport we were met by our tour coordinator Rosella. Fifty two of us boarded a newer tour bus for an hour long drive to Sorrento. The minute we got onto the highway there was Mount Vesuvius dominating the vista on our right - a steep, blue brown cone of rock. To our right, the Bay of Napoli.

As we approached Sorrento, we got our first glimpse of the Sorrento peninsula - irregular and steep, rocky cliffs plunging into the bay. Somehow these walls of rock were colonized by dense settlements that descend in steps toward the sea, stopping only at the very edge where the hills drop vertically to the rocky beach below. On either of the twisting, cliffside road were olive, lemon and orange trees. As we arrived in the ancient city of Sorrento itself, I was struck by the street trees - all orange trees loaded with fruit!

The last American pizza

This is it ... the last American pizza before heading off to Italy.