Anacapri, Italy Friday, October 30, 2009

Yesterday, Sophia, Alex and I walked to the nearby salumeria (a small neighborhood grocery with a meat and cheese counter) and had three fresh sandwiches (panini) made. The Italians layer fresh tomato, mozarella and whatever else you desire (prociutto cotto or crudo, cooked or aged ham, salami, etc.) drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle it with fresh herbs.

Provisioned with our picnic lunch, we took the bus to Grotta Azurra (the famous Blue Grotto), then walked back 100 meters to the beginning of il Sentiero dei Fortini -the stone strewn path along the western coast of the island, linking a series of small forts built by the British in the early 19th century to defend the island from the impending Napoleonic invasion. This coast is wilder and rougher than the eastern coast, with few houses, and low-growing weather beaten vegetation. The rock of the island is predominantly limestone, and the pitted holes in the rock face we saw as we hiked the coast attested to its porous quality. I was amazed to see amaryllis growing wild, as well as euphorbia, rosemary, unusual ferns, yucca and cacti. We hiked for four hours from the northwestern Punto dell' Acero to the lighthouse on the southwestern tip or Punta Carena. We had intended to watch the sunset from the lighthouse point, but after a cappucino at a bar overlooking the cove, we caught a bus back into Anacapri. We were physically tired in a satisfying way after a day on the windswept rocks in the warmth of the late fall sun.

The island, especially Anacapri because it is slightly more remote, is quickly depopulating as the tourist season draws to a close. We are practically alone in the Hotel Bussola, and when we go out in the evening to dinner, most restaurants are either nearly empty or already closed for the season. Last night, we found a cozy little restaurant tucked off the street at the end of a shrublined walkway. The owners obviously live upstairs, as the children came down to show Papa (the chef) and Mama (the waitress) their homework during the evening. The evenings are cool (even cold!) and autumnal, so I was hankering for a bowl of soup. I hadn't seen it on any of the menus, but I was certain that the locals must be preparing hearty soups at this time of the year. "C' è zuppa?" I asked the signora. "Si, c'è zuppa dei fagioli," she offered. She served the soup in a rustic clay bowl with small handles on the sides. Deliziosa! The white beans, tomato and spinach were heavily laced with garlic, and together with the country bread it made a most satisfying supper after our hike. Alex and Sophia have both developped a taste for a local dessert - torta caprese - a chocolate cake that is only lightly sweet but served with a generous dollop of heavy whipped cream.

(4;50 pm)

The sun is descending and there is a chill in the air. Dry leaves rustle about my feet as I sit on the blue tile terrace surrounded by Roman statuary. I met a man from Santo Domingo this afternoon who was selling ice cream in the center of Anacapri. He detected my Spanish when I tried to ask in Italian what type of fruit was in one of the flavors. He works here with his nephew during the tourist season, but will go home to Santo Domingo for the winter. He claims that it gets very cold here in Capri in the winter (at least for a Santo Domingan!), and of course there is no money to be made here until March when it begins to warm up and the tourists return. Judging from the large clumps of amaryllis I saw again today while hiking near Monte Solaro (the highest point on the island at 589 meters), it couldn't get too cold.

We took the chairlift to the peak to take in the panoramic view, then Alex and Sophia rode down, while I hiked down, detouring to see the little hermitage of Santa Maria at Cetrella. I was completely alone on the trail, and felt that this was as close as I might come in 2009 to discovering the island the way it would have looked in the late 1800's when Axel Munthe first came here as a young man. I startled birds from their hiding places, and when they flew off, the air was completely silent. I never would have imagined that I could find myself in such complete wilderness on the island of Capri. It was fantastic! Wild cyclamen were growing in clusters in the deep shade, and I even spotted them growing from a rock crevice. Capri is full of surprises...

A final comment on our stay in Anacapri...leading up to October 31, we saw many telltale signs of the approach of Halloween. I am amazed at how this typically American tradition seems to be catching on in Europe. It seems a bit odd, but I guess children everywhere love to dress up and receive candy, so that is the key to Halloween's universal appeal. On the tiny island of Capri on Halloween, we watched as little Italian ghosts, witches and devils went trick or treating in all the little shops in Anacapri. They would enter a shop and say: "Dolcetti proveddete!" which I think means something like "You will provide sweets!" Older Caprese ladies sat out on the steep narrow streets with plates covered with hand tatted lace doilies covering the treats they were handing out. It was quite a sight!

Thursday, October 29 Anacapri, Italy

We arrived on time in Napoli and took a harrowing drive by taxi to the Molo Beverello (quay for departure to Capri, Ischia and Sorrento by hydrofoil). From my brief glimpse by night of the area around the central train station, Naples looked third-worldish with garbage overflowing, people gathered around an open fire on the sidewalk, and our taxi driver dodging motos and running red lights, passing on the right!

Night falls early here now due to daylight savings time which began last Saturday, and the fact that we are further east than in Brussels. By five o'clock the sun is already setting now. Capri is lovely and sunny with spectacular views in every direction. We made "the pilgrimage" to Axel Munthe's villa San Michele (www.sanmichele.org/indexEN.html) yesterday after breakfast, and I was enthralled by the beauty of its natural setting. The house itself was somewhat dark and uninviting, but the gardens carved out of the rocky premonitory provided an idyllic atmosphere for reflection and meditation. The San Michele chapel with its view over the Bay of Naples, guarded by the Egyptian sphinx from the time of Rameses II was the 'punto culminante.'

Vladi had to leave yesterday afternoon to return to Brussels, so Sophia and I accompanied him on the minibus that makes the twisting drive down the cliff from Anacapri to Capri. There we said goodbye and headed along a path that hugged the eastern edge of the island. The elegant villas here are envelopped in mantles of bouganvillea and ivy, and dotted with citrus and palms. The center of Capri has been dedicated to ultra chic and expensive designer boutiques producing an overall effect akin to an airport dutyfree zone. Once you move beyond this, however, the island's unique blend of Italian arquitectural elegance and natural beauty prevails.

We reached the view of gli Faraglioni, the massive rocks engulfed by the sea that were once part of the island. Following the via Pizzolungo, we glimpsed the modernistic Villa Malaparte, a long narrow red house built on barren rock and accessible only by a steep stairs twisting its way up the perpendicular wall face from the sea. The Italian author Curzio Malaparte had it built in the 1940's. We continued along the path through abundant vegetation, reaching the large Grotta di Matromania, a natural cave with Roman remains still crumbling, and the picturesque Arco Naturale which reminded me of Lexington, Virginia's Natural Bridge, except that on Capri the arch frames a beautiful window of azure blue. Everywhere you fix your gaze, the brilliant blue of sea and sky dazzles. When the sunlight strikes the water's surface it shimmers and sparkles like a mantle of diamonds.

Taormina, Sicily Tuesday, October 27

The warmth of the sun penetrates the clouds and fills me with a radiant languor. The view from our hotel room balcony is resplendent with Mediterranean sensuality - the shimmering sea, pungent pine and cyprus, shades of ocher rooftops and walls, punctuated by colorful flapping laundry. Mount Etna presides over the entire scene, now shrouded by clouds, then looming, snow capped over the rocky outcrops jutting across the landscape until they plunge into the coast.

Perched on the hillside between Taormina and the tiny hilltop town of Castelmola, I can observe the town's bustle from a bird's-eye view. A steady chiseling and pounding reaches my ears as men work at installing some new electrical lines on the façade of a stucco house. Cars purr up and down the winding street with the occasional whining of a moto.

Last night, just before dusk, Vladi and I climbed the steep footpath to Castelmola, a town built around a medieval fortress on a naturally fortified rock outcrop overlooking the bay of Taormina. Adjacent to Taormina is the resort of Giardini Naxos, once a sleepy fishing village, but reputedly the first Greek settlement in Sicily. The challenging climb was worth the effort when the path opened onto a tiled piazetta where men sat chatting on benches and narrow streets beckoned. We found the town's church and tiny municipal library on another charming square with a vista dropping straight to the sea. The door of the church was slightly ajar, and the light and voices from within announced that massa was in progress. On the door, a notice invited all parishoners to attend a special service welcoming the new Padre Tonini who was beginning his tenure on samedi il 24 di ottobre.

With darkness descending, we headed back the way we had come, but were sidetracked by an alluring display of local wines. One bottle of amber-colored liquid was labeled Mandorla. The shopkeeper insisted that the four stars on the label assured us of the best quality in all of Sicily. She invited us to step in and have a taste. Inside the shop, her elderly mother sat wrapped in a sweater and complained of the cold. She must have thought that we foreigners (gli stranieri) were crazy in our sandals, skirt, and shorts. The sweet golden wine tasted of almonds, and we bought the largest bottle available. Before heading down the steep, now dark path, we took one last flight of steps upward to the ruined walls of the castle overlooking the sea. I tried to imagine the long ago inhabitants keeping watch as approaching ships brought the menace and terror of a fresh wave of invaders. At any rate, those unwelcome guests would have faced a daunting challenge as they attempted to scale the rock cliffs.

At the hotel, we met up again with a family we had met at breakfast who curiously mirrored our own. The father was Polish, his wife American (from Texas!) and their two children, a daughter and son, were 17 and 15 respectively. They live in southwestern France where their children attend local schools. They moved permanently to France in 2001 because the father was disenchanted with American society, and wanted his children to grow up and be educated in a different environment. What amazed me was that neither he nor his wife knew French before they embarked on this new episode of their lives! He designs software and had done very well financially during his twenty years in Texas, and decided that he could live anywhere he chose. His wife now runs a gite (a vacation home rental) they created on their property in the rural Dordogne by converting an old stone barn into three independent vacation houses. She beamed as she told me that sometimes while she is enjoying a glass of wine with her visitors, she reminds herself incredulously,"This is my job!"

A taxi delivered us today at noon to the fin de siecle train station at Giardini Taormina. Ornate iron grillwork adorned the walls and tiled waiting rooms lined with intricately carved wooden benches were marked Sala d'atentto di prima classe and segonda classe. Our train made the brief journey to the port at Messina where we were loaded onto a ferry to cross the narrow straits to the toe of Italy. While on the ferry, we descended from our train compartment (shared with a kind-faced, one-armed gentleman of a certain age with a quick draw on his mobile phone...Pronto...Si, noi veddiamo questa tarde...) to go up on deck and watch our boat approaching the mainland.

We are now rattling along again at a good pace, following the coast on our way to Naples. The sea is calm, the sky a bit cloudy out the lefthand window. On the right, I glimpse another castle and hilltop town perched above us. If all goes well, we will arrive in Napoli by 7:00 pm and get a taxi to the Mola Beverello (quay) in time to catch the last ferry to Capri.