Day 249 The Amalfi Coast

It is Sunday and the Gino Sorbillo’s is closed. It would have been the perfect thing after spending the day seeing the Amalfi coast. Oh well, I had a great dinner of pasta with pumpkin that Giovanni made.

I took the train to Salerno, nice water front park, not much else to see. From there I took a bus to Amalfi. I was not prepared for the view from the bus. It was unbelievable. The Italian coastline is gorgeous. My first reaction was that I have to return with Patrícia. It is so incredibly beautiful and romantic. Every twisting mountainous corner of the road revealed more postcard perfect views. The water far below was azure blue, every valley had a cove with a lovely beach, the houses clinging to the rugged mountain sides all looked liked magazine houses, lemon orchards, and oh my…it was almost too beautiful. I have to go back with my lovely Patrícia and stay in one of the many little hotels dotting the coast, rent a scooter, maybe a boat...

Amalfi lived up to its reputation but the problem is that the cruise ships stop there and the city caters to the cash rich hoards that fill the streets with clockwork regularity. Positano was equally tourist heavy, yet slightly more attractive. The best part was the coastline itself. I found myself gasping at how beautiful it was.

Another bus took me to Sorrento, touristy yet more sensible and much bigger. The local football team won some important game and the streets were gushing with team spirit and an ungodly amount of noise. Convoys of fans cruised the streets in cars and scooters waving huge banners and flags, blowing whistles and horns, and showing off some impressive vocal cords. It was an entertaining chaos.

I was on my way back to Napoli when I was kissed by an Italian guy on the train. I started talking to Favio, a 28-year-old Italian criminal lawyer, about the train destination and then we kept talking. His English was only a little better than my Italian. We managed to have a good conversation anyway, causing him to miss his stop. He was very excited to talk to me and when he left he kissed me on both cheeks. It was my first time; I felt honored and just a little less like an outsider. I would never have thought that I would have good memories of being kissed by a man on a train. Life is strange.

Day 248 Pompei and Its Assailant

Max, Jeff, and I took the train to Pompei this morning. There is some kind of national celebration and the entrance is free today. The city was buried by the volcano Vesuvio about 2000 years ago and was only started to be uncovered in the last 150 years. Walking through the good sized city felt very different from other ruins I have been to. Pompei is so well preserved it feels like a city with real streets, sidewalks, houses, shops, ancient signs, mosaics, and frescoes. It was hard to believe how old it is. I was particularly struck by many of the streets with food stalls that have beautifully preserved L-shaped marble tiled counters with inset pots for food. They were set up exactly like a modern deli counter. Another fascinating part was the brothel. The entrance hall still has the graphic picture “menu” on the wall from which customers could choose. The remarkably well preserved frescoes in one structure, the hall of mysteries, were amazing. All through Pompei, I had a hard time getting the age of the city to correlate in my brain with what I was seeing. It was very cool. The picture is of one of the guys that were buried by the volcano.

After a morning in the endless streets of the ancient city we went to see its assailant, Vesuvio. We took a shuttle (16 euro including the 6.50 park entrance fee) from the train station up the mountain to the trailhead, maybe 100 vertical meters below the rim. The steep trail was covered with loose volcanic gravel and made for slipping feet as we went. One of the dynamics of a group of men is that no one wants to be unmanly and be the first to stop for a rest on the way, so we were all very manly and strode confidently straight to the top, never vocalizing the throbbing complaints of our leg muscles as we passed lesser people clinging to the railing and gasping for air. Peering into the vast caldron we were impressed before the free tour guide told us that the original volcano was actually the much larger rim still visible circling the base of the existing peak. The huge volcano we had climbed was only a cone inside of the much more massive one that destroyed Pompei. The amount of material that came off the original is mind boggling; it was beyond immense.

Day 247 Pizza of the Gods

Giovanni had indicated on everyones map the best pizza place in Napoli, Gino Sorbillo’s. Gino’s grandfather invented the calzone. It would be a cold day in hell before I would leave Napoli without trying it. We went early (seven of us) and that was good because the place filled up fast. At three euro for a margherita and 6.50 for a loaded one, the unusually cheap pizza seemed incongruous with the expensive looking interior. After watching for a while, I realized that they made their money on sheer volume. This wasn’t merely a cheap pizza place, this was going to be really good cheap pizza.

The pizzas that came to the table were huge, ultra thin crust, incredibly delicious. They were far and away the best pizzas I have ever had. Amazing!!!! The calzone were fantastic too. I could not get enough and ate way more than was necessary. I could not help myself. It was hard to stop. Knowing I would not be able to come back before I left the city made me a little sad as I reluctantly walked out the door. Outside, there were 50 or 60 people clustered in the tiny cobble stoned street waiting to take my place.

That was some damn good pizza. I was so eager to go eat the pizza I completely forgot to bring a camera. Sorry.

Day 247 Jellyfish Stings and Other Things

It was 7:00 in the morning and I had been up late eating, drinking, talking, and listening to Giovanni and others play and sing songs (so many talented people). It was a great time except I may have had too much of the mineral water bottle wine that Giovanni provided. Let me explain. I didn’t see it, but there was a place downstairs that would fill up plastic 1.5 liter mineral water bottles from a large vat of wine. It was a little too easy to drink and maybe a little too plentiful and now my head was fuzzy and my bed was feeling too comfortable to leave. But, I had to get up if I wanted to catch the ferry to Capri.

I went with my new Canadian friends Max and Jeff and almost missed the ferry. We left in a rush and didn’t avail ourselves to Giovanni’s hospitality and I ended up having overpriced coffee and an industrial pastry on the ferry and that didn’t make my already queasy stomach feel any better. The rocking of the ferry helped even less. Fortunately, I survived long enough to see the lovely postcard view of Capri emerge from the morning mist.

We met up with seven more people from the hostel on the ferry and decided to pool our buying power for a boat tour of the island. We had our choice of paying 19 euro for a tourist packed boat over to the blue grotto, so we could then wait for 2 hours on said boat before we could go into the grotto, or we could rent a bigger boat for two hours for our group to all the way around the island, visiting many other grottos, but not the blue grotto, for only 15 euro a person. We went for the latter of course and were very pleased with our choice. Our squat, leather skinned boat captain, had 700 years of family history on the island and was quite adept at maneuvering the boat well into grottos that seemed much too small for us to fit. He pointed out every rock formation that looked like something—that one looks like the virgin Mary, that one looks like an African elephant, and so on. Some were obvious others were a stretch. He also showed us the island homes of the Ferrari family, the king of Sweden, and other rich/famous people with too much money. In some of the grottos you could hardly put your hand in the water without touching one of the millions of jellyfish; this did not bode well for swimming later.

We got off the boat and hiked from the marina up the mountain to the actual city of Capri. At the top of many series of stairs we emerged into the surreal world of cruise ship tourist land. The overpriced shops and restaurants were teeming with middle-aged and older camera laden trinket shoppers. There were of course some high end shops for the people with serious money, yet most places sold the standard overpriced mementos. We took a detour down a side alley and found a much more interesting winding path through a residential neighborhood with lovely gardens and lemon trees close enough to the outer wall that a person could “borrow” one of the deliciously scented fruits. I know what you are thinking. I did not steal a lemon. But I did take a photo of someone stealing a lemon.

We had enough of the city and headed back down to the beach. There were a number of people there but for some reason no one was swimming in the clear blue water. An inspection of the water confirmed, that yes, the jellyfish were here too, not in the same numbers, just here and there. Finally we saw a few people swimming and they neither screamed nor twitched convulsively, so we headed in too. I touched one swimming in the shallows to see how the sting felt; it didn't seem so bad, it just burned a bit. The water was warm and beautiful. After everyone got stung and/or cuts on their feet from the rocks we had had enough. One girl got stung on her thigh and had long and painful nasty looking welts. We told her that peeing on it to deactivate the stinging cells of the jellyfish only works if it is someone else's pee but she would not go for it, so she had to wait it out for about 4 hours. Max tried it and said it worked great (his own pee), I did not get stung badly enough to warrant urinating on myself (oh darn!). The rock puncture wound on the ball of my foot was more on my mind.

We headed back to Napoli with suntans, sunburns, and the great travel memory of getting stung by jellyfish on the island of Capri.

Day 246 Napoli and the Best Hostel in the World

Napoli (Naples) is hectically busy, dirty, chaotic, and currently in day three of a garbage strike, I love it! The dark and narrow streets are filled with tiny shops, restaurants, people, cars, and scooters, scooters, scooters. The challenge for motorized vehicles is to go as fast as possible in too little space without either hitting someone or something. How it works is that you drive very fast, honking every time you are coming to a corner or people are in the street, only slowing down if you get really close to someone. The Neapolitan definition of really close is about 6 inches or less. There were many times I was worried about my foot getting run over. Once you get used to the local comfort level for close passes it is kind of fun.

The reason I love the city is that it feels alive and real. The combination of great architecture, great food, bustling streets, dirt, crime (mafia central), and large amounts of charm and style makes it feel balanced, unlike too perfect places such as Monte Carlo and Andorra.

My hostel, called Giovanni’s Home, lives up to its name. Giovanni greeted me in the hall as I came up the stairs and would not let me check in until after we ate lunch. We went out on the rooftop patio with a few other travelers, and I ate a fantastic seafood risotto, washing it down with a nice white wine while we chatted away the early afternoon. Then, relaxed and very comfortable, I was amazed when the corner pastry shop delivered a huge selection of fine pastries for dessert. After about an hour and a half, he brought the check-in process to us, giving us maps and personalizing them for us, showing the best routes and explaining the sites, how to get to other cities, where to avoid, and so on. He took the time to make sure that everyone got what they wanted. This is typical for Giovanni. The mornings start with very good coffee and often freshly delivered pastries, if you are around for lunch and dinner, Giovanni makes sure you are fed. His charm, warmth, and humor creates a communal atmosphere where people want to sit around and talk and trade stories. It is the best hostel that I have ever been in. I was not the only one that felt that way—his place was ranked as number one in the world out of over 10,000 hostels by Hostelworld.com. His rating was 99% and the next closest was 89%. If you go anywhere near southern Italy, you have to stay with Giovanni; it was one of those great travel experiences I will never forget.

Day 176 Going Rome Again

There is a certain pleasure inreturning to a familiar city. Specifically, everything is easier. On the first visit, I have to figure out how everything works. It takes a few days to work out the details of what is expected in stores (in which ones to pay first or later, self serve or not, etc..), how the metro and buses work (tickets, passes, automated kiosks, routes, transfers, etc..), what the accepted level of courtesy is, good places to eat and shop, and so on.

When I arrived back in Rome it was like an old friend. I knew how most everything worked, where things were, and what was expected. I could relax from the start. I easily found a better hostel than on my last visit and it was close to the central train station, Termini. Too bad I was only there for a day an a half.

After a nap, the first thing I did was to get some giant scoops of pistachio and coconut gelato from Old Bridge Gelato. OMG. I love that stuff. It was even better than I had remembered and I had to fight the urge to get seconds. Instead I walked the two blocks over to St. Peter’s Square and savored the grandeur of the enormous space as darkness enveloped the ancient city.

The next day I took a train to the town of Macarresse to check out a house for rent for my friend Chuck. I was hoping for a cute little Italian village but I ended up wandering in a bedroom community that could have been in almost any country. The house was nice though. On the trip back, I could not find anyplace to buy a return ticket and ended up riding for without one. I figured it was a small payback for the airport taxis in Paris.

I made it back to Rome in time for a free pasta dinner at the hostel. The little hunched-over Italian grandma in the hostel kitchen handed me a plate of penne that was barely coated with sauce and sparsely strewn with tomato chucks and beans. It looked like it needed a big scoop of sauce. I was wrong. Very wrong. I do not know how she managed to pack that much flavor into so little sauce. It was fantastic. Eating the perfectly al dente pasta, I felt guilty about my initial doubts and had to erase them with the distracting pleasure of another plate. I love travel!

Day 113 Leaving Italy

Back in Rome, we got a room at a cool hotel overlooking the expensive designer boutiques by the Spanish steps. The names read like a Vogue magazine: Yves St. Laurent, Prada, Georgio Armani, and so on. The prices read like misprints: jacket $3600, pants $1200, belt $390, and so on.

Our last night in Rome, we did our favorite things. Drinking water out of the fountain at the Spanish steps, eating gelato at Trevi fountain, and just admiring the ancient city flooded with modernity. The gelato we had was notable. We both had honey flavor, which was spectacularly tasty, and I also had armangnac flavor which was nothing short of phenomenally delicious. (Armangnac is a like cognac, but from a different region). It was a great end to our gelato quest. The only problem is that the bar has been raised so high, I am sure our future will be full of disappointing gelato consumption.

We had an early flight and had to pack the night before. One whole suitcase was not enough to hold everything we bought. It was my first ominous clue as to how much I spent. We ended up having three bags to check and three to carry on the plane. Oh wow, we bought a lot of stuff. For me, leaving wasn’t a big deal since I will be returning for a more extended exploration. For Eric, he was torn as most people are at the end of a vacation; longing to get home to the comforts of his own bed and reluctant to part with the thrill of the new and different.

And then we went back to Portland.

Day 112 Pisa Italy

It felt a little sad leaving Venice. The dramatic beauty of the canals, architecture, and charming winding streets exert a pull on the uncharted, romantic depths of the brain. Turning our backs on the city and entering the train station was not something we longed for, and we lingered on the steps outside, watching the parade of people and boats along the Grand Canal, and feeding the pigeons the last crumbly bits of our lunch.

The train to Pisa was uneventful except for one stop where a young woman, dressed shabbily and toting a sign in Italian, stopped by our seats, pointing at her very large “pregnant” belly. I would not have minded parting with some small change if she actually looked pregnant. She aggressively pointed at her sign and then Eric and then me, yet her skinny little face looked not the least bit preggers. When she puddled spit on her lips, threatening to spew it on me, I waved her away, saying, “Vai! Vai!” Thankfully, she gave up to harass someone else.

Pisa is a small town with little other than the tower and basilica so we only stayed one night. I was happy to see prices, except at the tower, were less than anywhere we had been. The tower was expensive at $45 and worth every penny. We didn’t really get an appreciation for how much it was leaning until we climbed the narrow spiral stairs to the top. The nearly window less stairs are deceiving to the senses because without a point of reference, you cannot tell which way they are leaning, so you end up falling against the walls as you ascend. To add to the fun, the steps are so worn by millions of tourist footsteps, they have 3 inch curved indents, making it hazardous to not watch your step. I had envisioned lovely marble floors on each level and was thus surprised to discover the center of the tower is an unadorned shaft. It is only a bell tower. A near fatally leaning, heavily touristed, rightfully famous, bell tower. That was cool, now back to Rome.

Day 110 The Labyrinth of Venice

We again faced the question of what to do on Christmas day. Well, some of the day. After eating and then shopping at the strangely large number of open shops, we head over to feed the pidgeons at Piazza San Marco, Eric's absolute favorite activity. For only one euro you get a packet of enough dried corn for about 3-5 minutes of bird feeding frenzy, depending on your distribution technique. The birds are accustomed to people and have no qualms about landing on your head, shoulders, or outstreched arms. When there is a bird sitting on your shoulder, looking you in the eye from four inches away, and Hitchcock's movie, The Birds, doesn't run through your mind, you are either too young or crazy. It didn't bother me to have them land on me, but staring at a sharp little black beak that close to my face bothered me.

Eric loved being buried in birds. He wanted to stay there all day, feeding money to the birds. We ending up stopping there everday and spent more than I want to remember. Oh well, that is the cost of fun.

In the evening, I thought of something fun to do. There are about 3,000 streets and alleyways in Venice, many too small to map, and hundreds of little bridges. What better to explore the city by running at full speed through the narrow, underlit stone streets, taking turns at random, with the intention of getting lost? We ran at a breakneck pace down incredibly narrow alleyways, twisted and turned, and crossed countless bridges, hit deadends at canals and doorways, ran back, jumped off or over anything possible, and ran some more. It was a fun way to get a massive dose of the beautiful nightime city of Venice. We got lost and took the first vaporetto we saw, and ended up right back at the Rialto bridge. Running with Eric through the city was one of my favorite experiences in Italy.

Day 107 Pasta and the Pantheon

The concrete 142 foot (43m) half dome roof of the Pantheon looks as if it was build yesterday despite being almost 2,000 years old. It is about 23 feet (7m) thick at the base and only two feet thick at the 30 foot (9m) hole in the top. The hole at the top, the oculus, serves as an oversized clock as the circle of sun traces its way across the marble floor. Engineers still don’t know exactly how they did it in one single concrete pour. That is some impressive concrete! Our modern concrete has no chance of lasting that long. So much for our superior high technology.

Much of the outside of the Pantheon was stripped for materials over the centuries and so its humble exterior belies the splendor that has remained untouched within. Definitely a must see. It is free too.

Maybe I should not be surprised that the pasta in Italy is so good. It is like gelato, I can’t get enough. Far and away the best pasta I have had was in a small family run basement restaurant. It was a little on the upscale side but I felt like splurging. I inquired about the house specialty and was told something in Italian I could not understand and was then directed to look at a big black cylinder in the back of the dimly lit stone restaurant. Sure! Why not? Eric ordered lamb chops and we feasted on spindly bread sticks, soda and wine until the food arrived.

The waiter wheeled over the cart with the ominous black cylinder perched upon it. It was a giant wheel of cheese! How can you go wrong with that?! He dumped a bowl of incredibly hot pasta noodles and sauce into the hollowed out center of the cheese and furiously stirred, scraping cheese from the walls of the cylinder. He then scooped the steaming mass of noodles, sauce, and cheese out and into my bowl. Oh my! It was strewn with pancetta bits! (Its like bacon) It was without a doubt the best pasta I have ever had. I could not get enough and had to force myself to eat slower. Oh my god, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Mmmmmmmmmm.

We topped it off with caffe lattes and panna cotta drenched in a dark chocolate sauce. Wow! The trip was going much much better now.

Day 106 Oh Heavenly Gelato!

Let me start by saying that gelato is not ice cream.

Not even close.

Good gelato is a divine semi-frozen concoction that delights the senses, stimulates the brain, improves the mood, satisfies hunger, cures leprosy, holds down inflation, and makes you not care that you should have should have changed the oil in your car 8,000 miles ago.

Now, this does not apply to any gelato; in fact Rome is overflowing with gelaterias that insidiously pass off pathetic imitations to oblivious tourists. My favorite is pistachio from Old Bridge Gelateria just across from the Vatican, shown above. Skip the Sistine Chapel, just suck on a fantastic semi-frozen bit of pistachio flavored heaven instead. The lines are shorter and it won’t hurt your neck so much.

We visited the Coliseum and Roman forum today. Seeing the massive ruins of both and imagining what they were like when they were new and covered in beautifully endless marble and elegant statues is difficult for the mind to grasp. To think that they did these incredible structures with only simple tools and back breaking labor is too much. I can only imagine what it would have been like for a peasant from the country side to wander into Rome and see these God-scaled buildings. It would have been the equivalent of watching a spaceship land.

We are still exhausted and walking is more effort than it should be. We came back to the hostel early to sleep.