Capri

October 22, 2003-Disillusioned
(photo: On 2380 year old Phoenician steps)

I’m getting tired of the 20-minute bus ride into Sorrento every day. I have memorized the merchandise in the stores. When we arrived at the main square we had a decision to make. We could either walk down to the dock to catch the hydrofoil to Capri by road or by using the stairs. The steps were shorter, but the road was more scenic. The road hazard was that we would share it with buses and other sundry vehicles. The buses here tend to think they have the right of way over pedestrians. They’ve honked at us when the only place we had to go was into a wall. They really should provide niches where those on foot could take refuge. There was a bus alternative down to the water, but that’s for cowards. We chose the roadway and were able to take the steps when we were 2/3 of the way down. Life is about compromise. The unhappy fact of the matter was that as we walked all the way down we knew that we’d have to walk all the way back up at the end of the day.

The primary secondary language in Sorrento is English, yet I found it curious that vendors at the ferry dock hawked their wares in English only. It’s not uncommon to see people from different countries speaking to each other in English, eg. Germans and Japanese.

I’m dawdling and avoiding writing about Capri because I like odd man (person) out. Songs have been written about its beauty and romantic tales have been spun. To that I say, “It was on the Isle of Capri that we nearly got ripped off.” With a population of only 13,000, they’re inundated with 13-16,000 tourists a day. Their only industry is tourism. There’s a chair lift, a funicular, Villa San Michele a museum of Alex Munthe’s home, a Tiberius’ villa that we couldn’t see, a blue grotto that was closed because of high seas, high-end stores, low-end gift shops, and as many gelato stands as there are fudge stores on Mackinaw Island.

To avoid fighting the crowds for standing room only on buses going to Ana Capri, the higher town, we signed on for a guided tour. We should have been suspicious about Giuseppe, our guide. I’ve learned not to trust an Italian man who dyes his hair blond. He was a native of the island and said he’d tell us the history and show us around. He actually led us around by our noses. We detoured to taste crème-lemoncello, a lemon liqueur, in one shop, heard a talk about inlaid coral furniture in another, and were steered to “his favorite restaurant.” We went down to the town of Capri after lunch and saw the original Roman harbor and Augustus Gardens. The views lived up to the brochures but we were unprepared for the crush of people and commercialism. It’s truly paradise lost.

Giuseppe did explain that 4-million years ago Capri separated from mainland Italy but is still connected under the sea. Greeks arrived 2900 years ago. Phoenicians left evidence of their presence by building a staircase from the town of Capri to Ana Capri. The steps survive and are still used today. The Phoenicians, however, are gone. Mussolini declared that every city in Italy had to have a street named Via Roma. His villa was on the Via Roma in Capri. We saw the Quisisana Hotel Capri. That translates to “here you get help.” It used to be a sanitarium and is now a hotel catering to those who can pay EU 1,900 / night. Some of those people are Queen Elizabeth and the Kennedys. The most exciting thing we saw was a ninety-five year-old, fifty-two foot tall cactus.

Several people felt taken, but a Norwegian couple made quite a fuss and Giuseppe gave them their money back. At least it wasn’t the “ugly Americans” this time. The people locked into this tour with us were very pleasant. There were several Brits who weren’t willing to take the trade we offered them. We wanted to give them Arnold Schwartzenegger and Pres. Bush in exchange for Tony Blair and the Queen. They were willing to give us Blair.

Ready-O Let’s Go

We’ve been in Sorrento too long. We’re starting to recognize people on the streets and in restaurants. This evening we ran into people we met at the Laundromat and some from Capri. What did Italy do before America brought them the tomato? What did they eat? They freely admit they owe the tomato to the Americas. Where would Italy be if Marco Polo hadn’t brought flat bread from the East? Where would we be without pizza?

I’ve changed the title of my emails in an attempt to get them through a spam-blocking program at Lakeland Community College in Cleveland. I hope I’m successful.

Tomorrow we brave the Amalfi Coast. David was taking a survey of anyone who’d been there and is leaning towards doing it by bus instead of driving our car. I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow.

Toby