Italian Dispatch #8: I’ve decided to purchase Capri

I'm sorry that this final dispatch took so long to get out to you all. I don't have any near-future honeymoon/vacation plans so you can rest assured that you won't be getting this drivel from me any time soon. You will, however, receive a follow-up email with a few selected photos of our trip linked to it. That's it. I'll be going back into
my cave now....

Tuesday: Naples is crap, Capri is paradise

It was back on the train to Naples for us again this morning, though this time we needed to take a taxi to the marina. So began Round Two with shady cab drivers. This one was an 'official' cab but we discovered too late that he didn't turn the meter on. I think he was
trying to make money on the sly during his lunch. After a frightening 10 minute ride through the hellhole that is Naples, I was ready to give him whatever he wanted just to stop. I thought that the drivers were crazy in Rome but Naples is like the Wild West. No one used crosswalks; instead, they just stepped out into traffic, usually right in front of you. Our driver came close to hitting at least a dozen people, including a woman pushing a stroller. It was a miracle that we made it without killing someone.

We arrived at the dock earlier than we anticipated (thanks in part to Mr. Toad's Wild Ride) and were told that we could use our boat tickets to catch an earlier ferry. Time stamps mean nothing here. A quick 45 minute jaunt landed us in Capri and, hence, into paradise. Ok, well, the city of Capri is overstuffed with overpriced clothing shops, snotty and loud Italian high school students (apparently school is optional in this country) and German tourists drinking Lowenbrau and snapping photos. Luckily, we couldn't afford to stay there and so made reservations at a cozy hotel in Anacapri, which is a frightening
15 minute bus ride away, up what looks like a shear cliff. Anacapri is paradise. The only reason the tourist make it up to this little hamlet is to take the chairlift to the top of the highest peak on the island and this is usually only done when the Blue Grotto is closed
(The grotto, being the biggest and possibly the lamest attraction on the island, is a sea cave that you get rowed into by an Italian who will then extort money from you to be rowed out). By the time we arrived and got checked in, it was siesta time but we were able to find one place still open near the burgh's church. After a quick meal we wandered a bit in search of a map and some postcards before heading back to the hotel to catch a brief nap. The map we purchased at a local shop is nearly the size of the damn island and consequently, of little use to us. Except as a laugh. We tried to get onto the aforementioned chairlift but by the time we got there, they'd stopped taking people up for the day. Since there wasn't much else open except a few little souvenir shops, we indulged in our new favorite pastime: napping. After said nap, we walked up to a recommended restaurant a few blocks away and had a great dinner. Brooke keeps
saying that there is a pattern to my dispatches: wine, food, Italian high school girls, rinse and repeat. Well, if she's so smart why doesn't she write them, is what I say. Then she hits me or gives me the frowny face. Then I make a 'pasta-butt' comment and it degrades
from there. Regardless, it was a great dinner and they gave us Lemoncello with our bill. Lemoncello is a regional liquor made from gasoline and lemons. It must be drank ice cold and very quickly. Oh, and to say it's regional is to say that every region of Italy seems to claim it as their 'regional specialty'. I only believe the Caprese, though, since they gave me some after a meal that I didn't have to pay for. Marketing executives take note. After dinner, it was off to bed for us and the rest of Anacapri. Random Vespa noises outside our window whisked us off to sleep.

Wednesday: We rode the chairlift twice, it was so cool

Today was by far my favorite of the trip. After breakfast, we headed up to the chairlift and were the second folks to ride up after it opened up. Holy crap, was it amazing. I took more photos of the landscape during our 13-minute ascent than I did of any other single venture thus far. We've seen ancient ruins, uncovered cities, gaudy grandeur and towering obelisks during this trip and NOTHING compared to my first 13-minute ride up to the top of that mountain. It had me, the nigh-atheist, making comparisons to heavenly ascent. Laugh as you might but I actually started to tear up at one point, it was that
beautiful. At the top, there are several outlooks and alcoves for sitting quietly to take it all in. There's also a café where you can get espresso (of course) and other goodies. If I had brought a sleeping bag and a tent, I wouldn't have left. Ever. After an hour or so of 'Wow' moments, Brooke drug me back down hill on the lift so we could go see Capri. The descent was even more beautiful and more photos were snapped, mostly of the terraced gardens and residents working away in them without noticing us overhead. Once we got to the bottom, we walked the 50 feet to the bus stop and shortly boarded a
bus back down the shear cliff.

We disembarked at the bus stop and into a flood of loud Italian teenagers who were either skipping school en masse or on a field trip. It's hard to tell because you never see the teachers herding them…I imagine that they're probably off getting a drink somewhere to calm their nerves. I know I would be. We wandered around the streets and backstreets of Capri for a good spell in search of a place to get bite to eat. It was still early, around 11:30 or so, and not much in the way of food is available at that hour in Italy. Many a designer shop was passed with bored and very stylish 'associates' staring blankly at their wares. Not that Brooke or I were interested in (or could afford) patronizing any of these shops but, if we were and could, I'm sure it'd be a hellish experience. For one thing, we're not even on the fashionista radar in this country. For another, most of the 'associates' scare me. Too pretty and too mean looking. Plus, mullets are IN here, for chrissake! I saw one that had been crimped even! Anyway, we walked past tons of shops and got lost in the back alleys (Brooke would like me to point this out). We wound up eating panini at this little café that we thought was in the middle of nowhere but turned out to be just over the hill from where we started. Bonus. After lunch, we did a little grocery shopping across the street where I bought a liter of top-notch olive oil and a Philly Cream Cheese snack that looked like Handi-Snacks my mom used to put in
my lunches. Rather than crackers with cheese or peanut butter, though, it was bread sticks with full fat cream cheese. If Atkins makes any headway in this country, I suggest Kraft replace the breadsticks with butter. Or bacon. Brooke got a Nutella snack pack
(she just discovered it's choco-hazelnut goodness on this trip and is now addicted) and some olives. Armed with snacks, we motored out of the market and back toward the bus, our second chairlift trip and an afternoon's residence in paradise.

By the time we got back up to the top, we were a little hungry so we found a quiet little nook to eat our snacks. There were a lot more people up there this time around and not all of them were quietly 'taking it all in' but we ignored the Italian high school students as
best we could. We spent the afternoon alternating between sheer awe and reading our books quietly at the café. When we did speak, it was to discuss the possibility of buying this hilltop and moving into the café. Brooke asked what we'd do for work; my answer was 'whatever, as long as we can telecommute'. When we were finally overcome by the
sunburns we were getting and the troop of loud high school students that arrived late in the day we descended to a less noisy, less beautiful reality. I teared up again on the way down. Man, it was amazing.

It was still early for dinner so we headed back to the hotel to relax a bit. We had dinner reservations that were made for us by the hotel's owner at a 'restaurant with a view'. Apparently, the view off of our balcony doesn't count as a real view and we had to be picked up in a small bus to be taken to where the 'real view' and a sit-down meal could be found. The bus picked us up at 7:15 and proceeded to take us on a wild ride through narrow winding streets and back alleys. Let me say again that I am blown away at Italians' ability to fit their cars around the hairiest of hairpin turns while shifting and
talking on their cell phone. We arrived 15 minutes later at the restaurant that indeed had a lovely view of the mainland and other nearby islands. Our table was right at the edge of a sheer cliff (thankfully, there was a rail), between two other couples (older Dutch
lesbians and a hetero German couple). We decided to splurge a bit since it was our last dinner on Capri so we ordered a mixed seafood antipasti to start out with before our main meal. They immediately brought us as plate of bready items that we struggled to taste seafood in. Alas, we thought we'd been ripped off and cursed Italy for messing with us sucker tourists. Then they brought out the real antipasti and we took it all back. It was a large platter with jumbo clamshells filled with all sorts of tasty seafood. I had my first raw oyster, I think. I'm pretty sure it was raw. It was cold, at least. After we ate it all except for the octopi suckers (I can't go there, no matter how hungry I am), we got our main dishes. I can't remember what Brooke had but I got a tenderloin that was excellent, if a bit overcooked for my bloodlust. After Brooke got dessert and I, an espresso, they brought us more lemoncello. This was appropriate, of course, since it was invented in Capri. It was better than the drink we were brought the night before which lead me to believe that it might actually be made with kerosene and not petrol. Anyway, I had to
drink Brooke's for her (speaking of running themes). We were motored back to the hotel after the meal and, after a little packing, fell to sleep fat and happy with our choice of each other and Anacapri.

Thursday: We didn't ride in a rickshaw but that's about all we didn't ride today

We rode, in succession, the following vehicles today over the course of 6 hours: mini-bus, hydrofoil, taxi cab, Eurostar train, airport shuttle train, and a tour bus. Yes, yes, the taxi was in Naples and little dude tried to screw us again on the fair (it went from 12 Euros when he loaded us up to 15 Euros when we arrived). I finally figured out how to beat them, though: don't carry exact change. Italians have this really annoying need for you to pay with exact change. I say it's annoying because when you pull money out of the ATM, it always gives you the biggest bills it can and NO ONE IN ITALY can make change for a 50. You have to go to a restaurant and order a few course to be able to get any change at all. All part of their clever plan to get you to spend your money, no doubt. Anyway, I only had a 50 Euro note and 13 Euro in change when the cabbie tried to raise his price. When I flashed the 50 and asked him if he could make change, he did the
previously described 'Italian Dismissal' and took the change I offered. I win.

At the end of our day o' travel, we wound up at our hotel near the airport. Rome Airport is, it turns out, nowhere near Rome. It's way the hell out in the boonies, actually, but the hotel we stayed at was very nice in that 'Let's-Host-Our-Conference-in-Rome-this-Year' sort of way. We arrived around 4 and were starving. Of course, nothing was open and the concierge rather snottily told us that room service wasn't even serving yet (though the menu in our room didn't indicate any 'breaks' between lunch and dinner). We wandered around the little town in search for an open restaurant in vain. I did find a little 'Super Mercado' that had great deals on Moka-Express espresso makers, though, so I decided to round out my collection with a 1-shot maker. After, we headed back to the hotel and called room service in spite of the snotty concierge and though he was surprised to hear from someone so early ('You want to eat dinner NOW?'), he brought us food anyway.
The rest of the evening we spent repacking and alternating between BBC and CNN to see which had the better coverage of the Pope. CNN won hands down since the BBC seems to think there are more important things to report than the Pope. Like wars and the weather. We drifted off to sleep tired and ready to come home.

Friday: The flight home and the wrap up…

Let me just say to start that check-in in Rome is light years ahead of check-in in any other airport, particularly in the US. You don't just queue up in a massive line to get to the Delta counter. First, you look at a board with all the outgoing flights for the day on it. Next to your flight number is a 'booth' number where you go to queue up for your specific flight. Brilliant! Why have US airports thought of this model? It was way more efficient, after all. We checked in and were through customs in under 20 minutes! Not only that but I got us moved to the Exit row too! When you're 6'8" and flying coach, that's like a little slice of heaven.

Our flight home was long but uneventful and when we arrived, we were glad to be home. We both had a great time, particularly on Capri, but living out of a suitcase for that long can be tiresome. Especially when you keep adding bottles of wine to it. Though we have many fond memories our trip (plus a 28 page Word document) and certainly plan on
going back again some day, it's nice to be home and sleeping in our own bed. Now that we're married, not 'living without the benefit of clergy', it's 'our bed'. Before it was just mine...it just happened to be located in Brooke's room. Anyway, it's good to be home. I hope you all enjoyed my wordy dispatches. Some of you wrote that you did...those of you that I haven't heard from, I'll assume that you simply tolerated them. Thanks for indulging me.

Ciao,

Shaun.