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.

Energy Choices In Context

The recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is a painful reminder of a couple of things:
1) The three-decade old ban on offshore oil and gas drilling was put in place for precisely this reason - in fact it is eerily similar to the original catastrophe that sparked a serious movement against ocean drilling near the coast (Santa Barbara, California, 1969)
2) Reliance on oil and gas for energy inevitably means environmental damage and threats to health and safety. Not surprisingly, accidents in the Gulf of Mexico are depressingly common. Since 2001, there have been 69 offshore deaths, 1,349 injuries and 858 fires and explosions in the Gulf, according to the federal Minerals Management Service.

However, the timing of this catastrophe is especially significant for at least two reasons:
1) Only a few weeks ago on March 31, President Obama declared his support for a partial lifting of the longstanding ban on offshore drilling. The President called for new offshore drilling in the Atlantic Ocean from Delaware to central Florida, plus the northern waters of Alaska. He also said he wants Congress to lift a drilling ban in the oil-rich eastern Gulf of Mexico, 125 miles from Florida beaches. This was a surprising move for a Democrat, but of course, there are bigger fish to fry with the pending climate change bill yet to be taken up. Let the horse trading begin.

2) The juxtaposition of this catastrophe with the recent decision of the Department of the Interior to approve the Cape Wind project on Nantucket Sound - to be the first offshore windfarm in the U.S.

It was this latter juxtaposition on Boston.com's page that struck me - a picture of a forlorn looking man and his dog walking along a lonely beach, enjoying one last moment of calm before an impending storm of some sort. At first I thought this picture was of a resident along the Gulf Coast waiting for the inevitable oil slick to arrive. But the picture was taken on Cape Cod - no oil slick, just a bunch of windmills. The caption reads: "Bill Thys and his dog walked on Craigville Beach. Cape Wind’s 130 turbines would rise behind them to the left and stand more than 400 feet above the water."


Aside from the very misleading implication that the windmills would tower over the scene (they would actually appear about 1/4 inch above the horizon from Mr. Thys's location - see the image simulation above from the Cape Wind Environmental Impact Statement), the bigger problem with this sentiment is that the disruption of wind turbines cannot be compared to the disruption and destruction wrought by our oil-dependent energy system. Moreover, oil slicks, as it turns out, are the least of our worries.

There are a lot of decisions to be made about our energy future, and development of offshore resources is certainly one of them. Energy is THE issue of the 21st century - tied as it is to climate change, economic development, and political security. Unfortunately, some of the most insidious impacts of our energy choices will not be so spectacular, which means that they will not command attention on their own.