Final thoughts

Ferdinanda, Danillo, his father, and Guest

Well, before I leave, a few thoughts and tips:

Italy is chaos. Literally. Fun to visit, but I don’t think I could live here. It is volcanic in the character of its people.
If any of you decide from this blog that you’d like to visit here, I definitely think it’s worth it. However, you might want to come later in the year than me. First of all, global climate chaos meant that much of the time I was cold . . . in the south of Italy. Second, you’ll have more options in the form of transport. It might be more crowded and hot, but you’ll have flexibility.
Expect nothing. Assume nothing. Double-check everything. Assert yourself.
Learn at least a few words of Italian. They appreciate it, and it’ll help you to get around better.
Bring lots of cash and definitely an ATM card. The Italians, at least in the south, prefer cash to credit. It may be because of the exchange rate, but if you don’t happen to have very much cash on hand, it can be a little annoying. In Reykjavik and Paris I was able to use my credit card for pretty much anything.
Italy is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. And Pompeii and Paestum were transcendant.
And now—I come home.
Next stop: merrie olde England in ’09, with family . . . that is, if the dollar doesn’t continue to slide.

Ciao,
John

P.S. I don’t know why there were so many movie references in this blog.
P.P.S. Yes, that is sunburn. I didn't expect to go out on a boat.

Day 7--Capri

Amalfi Coast

Capri

From left to right: Lori, Betty, some vagrant, and Barb

One thing I’ve discovered during my week here in the south of Italy: just trying to get to and from your destination can be an adventure in itself. For example, I wanted to visit Capri today. I figured I could catch a boat from Amalfi. But during the off season there are only two boats that go to Capri from Amalfi and back. So my only other choice was to take a SITA bus up to Sorrento, and from there get a hydrofoil to Capri. But first, I had to wait an extra half hour because there was a bicycle race up the Amalfi Coast. So I waited, watching the seemingly endless stream of cyclists glide by the hotel. The cyclists were pretty cool, but unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out the Spanish directions on Ferdinanda’s camera to shoot some video footage.
Eventually traffic resumed and the bus came. Once in Sorrento the bus dropped us off in the main piazza, and I had to figure out how to get to the harbor from there. I did eventually find the harbor but I had to walk down about four thousand steps and pursue a winding cobblestone street down to the water. I thought to myself, I am not walking up all those steps just to take a bus back. I was determined to take a boat, any boat, back to Amalfi later in the day.
I made the hydrofoil about five minutes before departure and found myself going to Capri. The water was pitchy but I had taken Dramamine, and was fine as long as I didn’t look down.
I arrived in the Capri harbor and found a tourist office. The lady behind the counter said that the sole boat to Amalfi would leave at 4:25. So I had about three hours.
One thought on the way had been to take the funicular railway (“funiculi funicula!”) up to the scenic paths and gardens at the top of the city. Instead I was so impressed with my body’s willingness to tolerate the sea that I decided to take one of the boat tours around the island. I think that all the flying I’ve done the last couple of years has given me sea legs!
The boat tour lasted about an hour and covered the whole circumvent of the island (see photos above). I sat up top and struggled with wind and waves to get pictures, which is why one of them is slightly tilted. The Blue Grotto was closed because the water was too pitchy to get in through the narrow entrance.
I would have loved to have visited the ruins of the Roman Emperor Tiberius’ villa and gardens, but I really wanted to get back to Amalfi, have dinner, and get back to the hotel to pack. So I made the 4:25 boat. But not before I suddenly ran into three cute Dead Head girls that I had met on the bus the night before. They are Lori, Betty and Barb. Lori is from New York, Barb and Betty from Miami. They are doing an entire tour of Italy. I gathered they were Dead Heads before they told me because of the tell-tale smell of patchouli.

When I arrived in Amalfi, all of the regular ristorantes were closed. I guess they close on Sundays for a few hours before the dinner hour. So my last full meal in Italy was ravioli stuffed with grouper at a side café. It was . . . okay.
Also had some more gelati today: mixed berry and strawberry in Capri, vanilla and chocolate in Amalfi. It is indeed the ice cream of the gods.
All in all, a pretty darn good day.

Ciao,
John

Day 6--Paestum

Second Temple of Hera

Temple of Neptune or Hera

Temple of Athena

The drive to Paestum did not have any of the sturm und drang of my commute to Pompeii, but it was longer (nearly three hours) and I had to change buses three times: to downtown Amalfi, Amalfi to Salerno, and then Salerno to Paestum. The SITA line runs from Salerno north, while south of Salerno there are three bus lines. More on that later.

Unlike Notre Dame and Pompeii, the Paestum excavation site is not located in the middle of a modern urban population center, but is out in the country on its own. An avenue featuring the museum, restaurants and souvenir shops lines it, and teenage boys and girls were playing soccer in the road.

Paestum, originally Poseidonia, dates back to about the 6th century BC and was a Greek settlement that was overtaken by the Romans in 273 BC (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paestum). It remains mostly as foundations except for the three main temples pictured above. They are among the most complete Greek temples in the world. The remainder of the site is what's left of the Roman settlement. Since this was only a settlement and not an entire urban center like Pompeii, it was easier to cover in an afternoon. Ferdinanda's camera did the trick, as you can see, but I was so paranoid about breaking another camera that I handled it like plutonium.

However, I did take a cue from my post-camera experience at Pompeii, and made sure to look at things as well as photograph them. I spent some time sitting under trees near the temples, reading Euripedes' The Bacchae, communing with the ancient ones. There were tourists but no huge tour groups so it was very peaceful, except later in the afternoon when some tree-pruners along the avenue were using chainsaws.

There was also a wedding going on (see picture above). In fact I saw wedding activity all day long. Apparently Paestum is a popular site for weddings because of its beauty but also because I believe either Athena or Hera give their blessings to marriages.

And like Pompeii, Paestum has many inhabitants, except instead of stray dogs, they are these little lizards (see picture above). They are everywhere.

As I was leaving I looked back at the Temple of Neptune and it struck me just how beautiful it is. Such a pretty thing, I remember myself thinking. And then I surprised myself by starting to cry. Damn, John, I thought. And then I got myself back together, for men cannot cry in Italy, you know.

Getting back to Salerno was anything but peaceful.

Now if you recall I mentioned there are three bus lines from Salerno south: CTSP, SCAT and Guiliano. All three, according to the website, run from Paestum to Salerno. This turned out to be total bullshit.

I decided I wanted to take the 4:30 SCAT so I could be back in Salerno by 6ish and Amalfi by 8. Wishful thinking. First of all, I couldn't determine exactly where the bus stop was, and all the people in the immediate vicinity (a crossroad with a bar, wine shop and tabbacchi shop--a kind of convenience store) couldn't speak English. But it seemed like a bus stop. Problem was there were no buses. By 5 I decided that the 4:30 wasn't coming, so I decided to take the 5:00 Guiliano. By 5:20 I decided that one wasn't coming either. Meanwhile I'm standing there like Cary Grant in North By Northwest, pointing out to wedding parties where the scavi (excavation) is. Everyone tried to help me, but let's face it, I was stressing. You see, SITA is--how does one say--efficient and reliable, and I mistakenly got used to that.

I asked one gentleman who I thought was waiting for the bus, but was not, if he knew when it was coming. He didn't understand English either. Now here's where the language barrier can cause confusion. It seemed like he was telling me that there would be no more buses that day, and I should take the train. I'm not getting back to the hotel till midnight, I thought.

So I decided to go back to the ticket office at the excavation since the ticket person there spoke English, and find out if there was another bus stop, or of any other options. Sure enough as I'm about a quarter of the way down the avenue from the bus stop I hear from behind what sounds like a bus. I turn, and I can see the back of a bus heading down the street in the direction of Salerno. Ah, the ol' 5:00, right on time.

And it was there, in the presence of the goddess Athena, that I dropped the F bomb.

The woman at the ticket counter simply comfirmed for me that the only bus stop was at the crossroads. So back I went, determined to get a bus, no matter how long it would take. No choice.

The woman in the tabbacchi shop said there was a CTSP bus coming at 5:30 (cinque a medza). No bus at 5:30. Now I'm flagging down every bus I see--buses going away from Salerno, private buses, I don't care--shouting "Salerno! Salerno!" All the locals were I'm sure having a good laugh at the freaked-out turista. And then, ten minutes late, the CTSP for Salerno arrives. As I get on the bus the radio is playing The Cars' song "Who's Gonna Drive You Home." It was all I could do to keep from bursting out in a fit of maniacal laughter.

I eventually got into Amalfi around 9:00 and had dinner at a restaurant next to the Sant'Andrea's cathedral. I had steak marinated in olive oil and tomatoes, because after that commute, I needed meat.

Red meat.

I also had a lemon eclair with lemon cream sauce that was almost as religious an experience as Paestum. Feel free to drool over the picture above.

Tomorrow I take the hydrofoil to Capri, if I have the strength.

Day 5--Rainy Day in Amalfi

I've noticed something about my attempt to communicate in Italian that is potentially embarrassing: when I switch back and forth between English and Italian, I sometimes retain an Italian accent when I switch back to English. Fortunately so far no one has looked offended when I've done it.

One thing I forgot to mention in yesterday's post: when the British family and I were waiting for the bus to take us back to Amalfi, a van or small bus came down the street with speakers on top blaring what sounded like Italian church music--LOUD Italian church music (the speakers on top reminded me of the Blues Brothers car). Inside the windows we could see about half a dozen priests and nuns. It reminded me of some homeboys cruising with their rap music blasting out of their car speakers.

Well, as you can see from the previous post, I managed to rescue the Pompeii pictures. I had forgotten that I took about 37 before the camera died, so it was still a pretty good score. I do regret not getting some shots of the frescoes in the Villa of the Mysteries and a pair of statues in the Forum, but all in all, I'm happy. Ferdinanda has graciously loaned me her camera for Paestum tomorrow and Capri on Sunday.
OK, so I overreacted. So what's new . . . .

Today I took a brief nap after breakfast and then went into town for lunch, get the Pompeii shots put on disc, and do some shopping. The weather was practically Icelandic--not as cold, but it changed throughout the day. It stayed mainly in the low-to-mid 50s, but rained off and on. I went further up the main street of town than I had before, up into the residential district. There were of course modern apartment buildings that weren't picturesque, but mixed with the medieval buildings, made the town seem very surreal. In fact, this has to be the most surreal town I've ever been in, and not in a frustrating way like Annapolis, Maryland. It has the quality of antiquity and modernity at the same time. It's very eccentric.
OK, for lunch I broke a promise made in an earlier post and had a pizza with mozzarella cheese. I had no choice--all the pizza choices on the menu had mozzarella cheese. I think I'll be alright. Incidentally, while the pizza was good (if a little on the greasy side), it was nowhere near as good as the pizza I had on the Jersey boardwalk. No pizza I've ever had equals the pizza on the Jersey boardwalk. They also charged me 17 euro for the pizza, water, and a large coke, which I thought was a bit much. Afterward had some kick-ass gelato.
I enjoyed the rainy gray atmosphere. It added something to the medieval qualities of the town.
As I passed one shop, I could here on their stereo a very loud version of "Funiculì funiculà." And now I can't get it out of my brain. And now, neither can you.

Not much else to report today. I had spaghetti in a bag for dinner at Ciccio's. It was spaghetti cooked in a paper bag with clams, mussels, capers and oreganos. It was a little salty but still very good. Unfortunately they were out of cannoli. So they kindly offered me a small complimentary piece of fruit pie that was perfect.
Ferdinanda showed me how to get to Paestum and we discussed learning different languages. She thinks English is easy, especially when compared to Italian, because in English the verb and adjectives come before the nouns, whereas in Italian it's the other way around. For example, in Italian, 'music store' is 'il negozio della musica.' But she says they appreciate it when we at least try to speak their language. I've noticed a few American and British tourists not even bother. By the way, when all you're hearing is Italian, suddenly hearing someone speaking English can be very jarring, and for me, annoying. One of the reasons I came here was to lose myself for a week.

Ciao,
John

Rescued Pompeii pictures--selection

This is how I looked when I realized the camera was broken.

Day 4--John Live at Pompeii

A day of strange mixed emotions—elation, frustration, fascination, and a few moments of despair.

I left the hotel before dawn. Roosters were crowing nearby. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a rooster crow at dawn, let alone three of them at the same time.
The air was chilly but I deliberately did not bring along my jacket, because I knew (assumed?) that it would get warmer by mid-morning, and I didn’t want to drag a heavy jacket around the excavation with me. So I wore two shirts instead. The temperature was maybe in the upper 40s. And then I heard thunder. And lightning flashed over the Tyrhennian Sea.
I grabbed a pastry for breakfast at the local coffee shop but did not have high expectations. It turned out to be delicious. Then the bus came and I was off.
I still chuckle to myself that there was even one moment when I considered driving myself to Pompeii along those roads. I have moments of delusion like that.
The rain was intermittent on the way but very heavy at times. In fact, at one point, it started to hail. Now the last night I was in Paris with Margaret it hailed, too. So this is my second hail storm in Europe. "I am John, Bringer of Hail! Bow down before me!!"
Anyway the trip to Pompeii was long and at one point reminded me of one of those dreams where I’m trying to get someplace but I keep going around in circles. The bus driver seemed to be stopping at every bus stop in modern Pompeii. But finally I arrived at the excavation—and everything was closed. A moment of panic. The website said Open Daily, but I know now not to presume anything when traveling overseas. In front of the ticket window lounged what looked to be two large stray dogs. As I stood at the ticket window trying to figure out if they would be open or not, one of the dogs put his paws up on my chest. He must have been an English-speaking Italian dog, because I very loudly said, “Down!” and he got down off me. Then he/she and the other dog started to nip and growl at each other. With the place empty, the ruins of Pompeii in the background, and the dogs growling at each other, this was starting to feel like the opening to The Exorcist.
I wandered around till I found some men over at the entry gate. Sure enough I was an hour early. So I wandered over to the Circumvesuviana railway station, had a donut and hot chocolate, and waited.
These places are never how you imagine them to be. I thought the excavation would be somewhat on its own, not really in the midst of modernity, which is also how I imagined the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris before I saw it in person. The pictures lie. Pompeii is in downtown Pompeii. But once inside the new disappears.
When I looked at the map and the list of specific points of interest, I had a moment of panic. It was too much! I wouldn't know where to start! I didn’t want to go with a tour group, or follow a mechanized audio guide, but I wondered, would I have enough time? It was like looking for a restaurant in Paris—too many choices. Remember—Pompeii isn’t an excavated Roman site. It is an entire Roman town. So I started walking.
There were specific structures that I knew I wanted to see—the Villa of the Mysteries, the House of the Vetii, the amphitheater. I followed the map as best I could. By now it was after nine and it had stopped raining, but it was still chilly, overcast, and the wind was making it very hard to use the map.
I eventually made it to the amphitheater. By now the sun was out and it was warmer. The amphitheater is where they shot Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii. My father bought the videodisc (remember those?) for me when I was in 9th grade, and it was my first actual exposure to the ancient city—exactly 25 years ago. Full circle.
I enter into the amphitheater. By now I’m noticing several more stray dogs throughout the excavation. They looked well fed. Does the staff feed them? They were also well-behaved with the visitors. In fact, for the most part, they completely ignored us. All 75,000 of us. You see, I thought (assumed?) that it being a weekday, cold and cloudy, and off-season, that there wouldn’t be that many people touring the site, apart from school groups. Think again, Johnson. Huge, swarming tour groups of every nationality—German, French, Asian, Brit, American, Scandinavian, moving slowly like great beasts. They dared to impede the Bringer of Hail!
Anyway, back to the amphitheater. I set up to take a panoramic picture of the place when the camera makes a noise. I look at the back—it says “Turn off power and turn on again.” The shutters hadn’t opened all the way. Now this is Margaret’s camera on loan to me, and she told me before I left that one of the shutters doesn’t always close immediately after you turn it off--you have to wait a few seconds, and then it shuts. So it’s been doing that the whole trip and I’ve gotten used to it, but now the shutters won’t open. A moment of panic. I’m trying not to make my terror seem too obvious to the assloads of tourists around me. I turn it on and off several times until the shutters come all the way open. I take a few more shots, hoping it’s a fluke. But it does it again. So I repeat the procedure. I soon realize that the only way the shutters will come all the way open is if I press down hard on the power button. This works for a while, until I go to turn it off again (so I don’t waste the batteries) and I realize the power button has stuck and the lens won’t retract. I guess I pressed too hard. I futz around with the button, hoping to unstick it, and the camera turns itself off, ostensibly for good.
Now I’m ready to start weeping like a five-year-old. For one thing, I realize I now have to buy Margaret a new camera, and second, I’m in danger of losing the ability of documenting the remainder of my trip--let alone the rest of Pompeii, which I may never return to--unless I can buy a new camera in Amalfi. Yes, I know there are worse things that could have happened on the trip: lost wallet, lost passport, lost luggage, lost airplane engine. But . . . shit! I mean, @#%*!! Everyone around me was taking pictures. I hated them all. A couple of times I even deliberately walked in front of something to spoil one of their shots. Despondency had turned me into an asshole.
I sat down in the sanctuary of the House of the Faun and pondered my situation. I recalled that before I went to Iceland, I resolved not to take a camera, not to be a tourist, but more like—a witness, I suppose. Then I wound up buying some disposable cameras in Reykjavik and took some truly horrendous pictures. But now I thought back to that resolution. I looked at the other tourists and realized that like them, I had been photographing things, but not really looking at them. So for the remainder of the day I walked at a more measured pace, and lingered over things longer. This helped me to resolve my dilemma emotionally, and I was better able to enjoy the experience on a deeper, more meaningful level. Perhaps even spiritually. If I can rescue the pictures from the camera’s memory stick that I did manage to take, I’ll upload them later. For now though, you’ll have to type Pompeii into Google Images.
They actually have a modern cafe with gift shop built in the middle of the excavation, as if it were part of the town. For lunch I had a chilled seafood salad and vanilla gelato.
I encountered another frustration when I discovered that several houses, including the House of the Vetii, were closed for renovation. But at least the whorehouse was open! Perhaps I should explain—it’s called Lupanare (Lupa in Latin means prostitute). It’s a small establishment, well off the main thoroughfares (we're still inside the excavation site, mind you). As expected, the aforementioned assload of giggling tourists was cramming into it. It probably hadn’t seen that much traffic in all the years it was actually open for business. There were some cute softcore frescoes on the walls (the hardcore stuff is in a secret room in the Naples Museum). I would have loved to have taken some pictures for you all, but, oh well . . .
An unpleasant footnote—the guidebook says that because the women had no legal standing, the revenues all went to the manager of the brothel. So it really was a house of sexual slavery.
From there I went on to more edifying places, most importantly the Villa of the Mysteries. Some of the areas were roped off but one could still enjoy the rich colors and bizarre pagan narratives. I lingered over the frescoes and looked at them, while others took pictures.

The weather had held out most of the day, but as I was leaving it started to cloud up again and cool down. At the bus stop I became acquainted with a family of Brits who rode the same bus with me that morning. They’re staying in Ravello. While we waited for the bus to arrive ( it took an hour for it to show up), the thunderstorms moved in again.
When I got back to Amalfi I had supper at Da Meme’s again. This time I had grilled swordfish. It was buonissimo, one of the best meals I’ve had here so far.
I spoke with Ferdinanda and she made some suggestions about my camera situation, even going so far as to offer her own camera for me to use on Saturday and Sunday (before you think that’s really trusting of her, remember—I had to give the hotel my credit card number when I made the reservation). We agreed that the best thing for me to do tomorrow is to go to a photo shop in Amalfi with the memory stick and try and rescue the Pompeii pictures!
To Be Continued . . . .

Ciao!
John

Day 3--Emerald Grotto and Ravello

Ravello

Ravello

I think I've figured it out. Italian drivers are not insane--they're just such good drivers that they can do insane shit and get away with it.

My impression of a drive on the Amalfi coast is that it's like a rickety carnival ride that hasn't passed inspection.

Ferdinanda says that there's really no reason for the buses to toot their horns outside the hotel. She says the road is wide enough. The bus drivers toot their horns because they have, in her words, "small minds." Ferdinanda and Danillo have been indispensable in helping me figure out the Amalfi Coast transit system. Everytime I think I've got a handle on it, another curve ball is thrown my way. I did buy two tickets for Pompeii tomorrow. I also bought two 3-day transit passes for 15 euro each. They are fantastic, because they allow for unlimited bus use on SITA buses up and down the Amalfi Coast for three days. Alas, Pompeii is in a different part of Campania from Amalfi, so I had to buy separate tickets for that sojourn. No matter. I leave tomorrow at 5:30 am. I must get a good night's sleep.

But first, allow me to tell you how today went. I managed to get to the Emerald Grotto, but had to go by bus because the water was too choppy. I arrived, took the elevator down, and got a private tour from the very charming and hilarious tour guide (forgot his name) because I was the only tourist there at that moment. The grotto is fairly small, as you can tell from the picture above (sorry it's so dark but I didn't want to use the flash). I have some video of him splashing the oars in the water (tinted emerald green by the sun's rays bleeding through from underneath) and singing, while the other guide stood over on the water's edge shouting "America! America!", but only got it at the end:

There was a stalagmite jutting up that looked like a human head in profile. The guide says (read this in your head with an Italian accent): "For Italiano, stone look like . . . Garibaldi. But for Americano, it look like . . . Ronald Reagan! . . . Eh, George Washington! . . . not George Bush . . . ."
After leaving the grotto, I went to a nearby ristorante (I included a picture of the view from the deck) and ordered scampi. I don't know if you can make it out from the picture above, but those are shrimps, heads and all. They reminded me of that line from Apocalypse Now: "Captain Willard, I don't know how you feel about these shrimp, but if you eat them, you'll never have to prove your courage in any other way." However, there wasn't much meat inside, certainly not compared to the jumbo shrimps at home. I didn't think I'd see myself writing this, but I think I like the shrimp scampi at the Olive Tree in Aberdeen better!
Ravello is an old medieval trading town that goes back to the early 9th century (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravello). In fact, I believe much of the infrastructure dates back to that period. I included a few pictures above. I wandered the streets, alleyways, and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of stairs. Very little of the town is flat. My legs are screaming! I must sleep before Pompeii!
Ciao,
John
P.S. Here's what the commute is like (this video is on the way back from Ravello):



P.P.S. Watched Altered States last night dubbed in Italian. Everything sounds better dubbed in Italian.

Day 2--A Day and Night on Da Town

Well, I wasn’t able to make it to the Emerald Grotto, because I fell asleep after breakfast and didn’t wake up until after two. So instead I spent the day in Amalfi proper. I had lunch on the water--gnocchi with tomato and marinara sauce, as well as chocolate and hazelnut gelato (feel free to drool over the photo above), found the dock where the boats leave, and decided that tomorrow I’ll take a boat to the grotto and Friday and Saturday take boats to Capri and Paestum. I am, if nothing, ambitious.

I spent the rest of the day hanging out, shopping, and wandering around the downtown area. As I was hanging out on the steps of the town’s cathedral (Sant’Andrea’s) some young teenage boys asked me in English what time it was, but I believe they were mocking me. Later I saw them ask some British tourists the same thing, and laughing.

I think I may have screwed up on my olive oil purchase. Bertolli—don’t they sell that at Klein’s? Oh well, at least the label is in Italian.

A brief note on Italian physiognomy: compared to the French and Icelanders, Italians are—how can I say this politely—a little more portly. Methinks pasta and gelati may be among the chief suspects. And everyone is friggin' brunette!

All day long I was trying to find the side street where Da Meme’s is located. This is a ristorante recommended by Danillo here at the hotel. He told me to mention him when I arrived at the establishment. I eventually found the side street (more like an alleyway--it's pictured above looking down from Da Meme's), and then had a classic "John moment," when I walked into the wrong restaurant, asked to use their bathroom, chose a table, and then realized I was in the wrong place. The first clue should have been when I first entered and said, grinning, “I am a friend of Danillo’s!” and they looked at me as if I had said “I am a small goblin!” in their native tongue. Anyway I apologized when I realized my mistake, gleaned from them which direction Da Meme’s was in, and departed. As I left I heard one of the women inside talking very loudly in Italian, but then everyone here talks very loudly in Italian.
So I exit to my left, and there at the terminus of the alleyway is, of course, Da Meme’s. I enter and say grinning, “I am a friend of Danillo’s!” I felt like Da Idiot. But at least they sort of knew what I was talking about. Didn’t get me any discounts on the bill, though...
Dinner was as follows: First course—spaghetti with mussels in tomato sauce, Second Course—swordfish and cherry tomatoes in tomato sauce, and a side of green salad; and their portions here are almost American size! (OK, maybe not Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast size, but then nothing else on earth is). The food was great, but from now on, only one course for me.
As I left I peeked into the first restaurant I had mistaken for Da Meme’s. They had several tables filled. They were doing fine without me.

The evening ended with a nice, harrowing, nightmarish 25 minute walk back to my hotel, gently dodging oncoming cars and motorbikes. Part of the way there was an intermittent sidewalk, but the rest of the way there is only a white painted line that runs about a foot from the precipice. This is apparently the “shoulder.” The other pedestrians, walking on both sides of the road and dressed in black, ignored the oncoming vehicles with nonchalance. But then one forgets that Italy is a nation of extremes. This is, after all, the country that gave us Caligula and Dario Argento. From now on I’ll take a taxi or the bus whenever possible.

Tomorrow I will buy a bus ticket for my Thursday pilgrimage to Pompeii and make another attempt at the Emerald Grotto.

Ciao!
John

Morning on Day 2

Last night I ate a small octopus for dinner.

I had dinner at a ristorante up the road called Ciccio's. The octopus was a part of a menu item called the Seafood Fantasi ("It's a part of my sea-eefood fantasy!"). Also included were mussels and clams and some other kind of shellfish which I couldn't identify but it was good. The whole thing was marinated in butter, garlic, wine, etc. Then came the harrowing walk home. You see, there are no shoulders on the roads here. So pedestrians share the roads with the cars! Apparently the best side to walk going either north or south is seaside. My vertigo is being sorely tested.

Now after yesterday's post, I don't want any of you to think that I'm complaining about my room. In fact I included a few more pictures above of the room and the view from the balcony. They upgraded me to the top floor for a room with a personal balcony. However, the only electrical outlet is in the bathroom. So I have to run my laptop cable across the floor to the bathroom. Last night I couldn't sleep (surprise!). So I became acquainted with Italian TV, which is very similar to Telemundo. Unlike French TV, there are no "boobies la Notre Dame" (see parisfools.blogspot.com) but there was some fairly racy stuff after midnight. Dirty sinful Europeans. I also broke out my MP3 player for the first time in an attempt to find an Italian equivalent to the French radio station Nostalgie. No such luck yet. But I did eventually fall asleep--until the buses woke me up with their car horns around 7:30. I'm actually cool with that, having ridden the bus down here. If the bus driver doesn't let the oncoming traffic know he's comin' round the mountain, someone's going for a swim.

I am the only guest in the hotel, until the weekend. This is what Danillo here at the hotel calls "low season." I just had breakfast. Delicious homemade lemon pastries.

Today I plan to visit Amalfi proper and hopefully take a boat to the Emerald Grotto. I will be back tonight with an update.

Ciao!

John

P.S. The room picture has a greenish tint because of the green drapes.

It's a long way from Union Street in Havre de Grace to Amalfi

Well...it's 6:30 Amalfi time and I finally arrived about a half hour ago. The journey was exceedingly long and exhausting, but overall, surprisingly smooth--no real hiccups to report (although apparently I flew from Paris to Naples with my fly open). Naples was pretty scuzzy--Elizabeth at work likened it to the armpit of Italy, but I was thinking of another part of the anatomy. Yet majestic Mt. Vesuvius towers over the city like a giant magnificent beacon of death. Not exactly a honeymoon destination.

From the squalor of Naples we came to the much nicer town of Sorrento, where I caught another bus to Amalfi. The second bus driver proceeded to pass the hotel (even though I told him before we left Sorrento that I needed to be let out at the Hotel La Pergola) so I leapt out at the very next stop. The Amalfi Coast is extremely beautiful and breathtaking (though I was a bit out of it from so much transit to truly enjoy it) and reminds me of the Pacific Coast. The hotel is very pretty and situated in a lemon grove. A few disappointments, though--the hotel kitchen is not open for lunch and dinner right now (it's open probably in the peak summer months) so I won't be able to partake of their non-breakfast cuisine. And, of course, none of the rooms have wireless access. So I finally buy a wireless connector and I can't use it! They do have an internet connection in the hotel, but it's 3 euros an hour. So I type fast.

More to come tomorrow. But now, John must sleep. And find food. I'm in Italy. Shouldn't be too hard.

Ciao!

John

I have included above some first views of the hotel and its environs.

Yahoo headline--Italy under EU pressure over dioxin-tainted mozzarella scare

Guess who won't be eating anything with mozzarella while he's there.
Here's the rest of the article:
The spectre of a new food scare loomed over Europe on Thursday as Italy faced a possible EU ban on imports of mozzarella cheese because of high levels of dioxins in the milk used to make it.
The European Commission warned Italy it could follow Japan and South Korea's lead in imposing an import ban on mozzarella cheese made from buffalo milk from the southern region of Campania.
After a 6:00 p.m. (1700 GMT) deadline for Rome to provide more complete information expired, the European Union's executive arm called for urgent action and warned of unspecified steps against Italy's poorest region.
"The commission believes that the measures put in place are not sufficient to ensure that no contaminated product enters the market," a statement said.
This was, it said, because "no recall of product potentially contaminated has been carried out and the surveillance programme on the farms of the Campania region is still too limited".
Brussels called on Italian authorities "to take further urgent measures".
"If it considers this further action as inadequate, the commission will consider proposing safeguard measures for dairy products orginating from the region of Campania," the statement said.
Italy produces 33,000 tonnes of mozzarella per year, some 80 percent of it in Campania, where a quarter of a million buffalo are farmed to produce milk for the product.
Italian authorities said last week that high levels of dioxin, which increases the risk of cancer, were found in 66 buffalo herds around the city of Naples.
In a statement late Thursday, the Italian foreign ministry said "no products with irregularities had been exported". It added that Italian diplomatic missions had been instructed to reassure their host nations about the issue.
Most health experts quoted by the Italian media have said that the raised levels do not constitute a danger to health, but domestic sales have already fallen by 30 to 35 percent, according to the body that oversees the product.
Officials have previously said the contamination is probably linked to the Naples region's chronic waste disposal problems, which saw thousands of tonnes of rubbish left undisposed of in past months.
Italian health officials have rejected this.
A commission spokeswoman has said the possible measures could run from a recall of concerned products from the EU market to "a complete ban" on imports to other EU countries.
Earlier, after sending "new information" about the extent of the contaminated cheese, Italian Agriculture Minister Paolo De Castro told a news conference in Rome that "there is no health problem".
According to this information, the commission spokeswoman said the contamination concerned four holdings and 23 dairy centres, where dioxin levels had been found to be above EU norms.
The contaminated products also only went on the local Italian market and were not shipped onto other countries in the European Union or beyond.
In Rome, De Castro said the situation was under control, downplaying it as "a matter of a few limited cases" and gulping down mozzarella for the cameras.
"If you ate the mozzarella containing a level of dioxin that is slightly higher than the tolerated threshold you would have to eat seven kilos (15 pounds)" to have health problems, he also said.
Already on Wednesday, Italian Foreign Minister Massimo D'Alema sought to allay the health fears after Japan and South Korea banned imports of the cheese stressing the dioxin cases were isolated.
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If I ate seven kilos of mozzarella the dioxin would be the least of my problems.

John continues his expensive hobby

Made even more expensive by our nation's deranged monetary policy, but whattaya gonna do . . . .
This is just to announce that for your curiosity and perhaps amusement, you can follow my adventures in Italy by clicking on this link (johngelati.blogspot.com). If you'd like to leave a comment you will have to register, but it's super easy. I will be departing on March 31 for the land of Fellini, gelati, and swank sports cars. I will be spending approximately a week in Amalfi on the Gulf of Salerno. I will be visiting Pompeii, and hopefully other ancient Roman Imperial excavations as well. Other destinations will include Capri and various grottoes. In the coming days I will be offering burnt sacrifices to the gods to give me decent weather. I will of course include snapshots of my various adventures, as Miss Margaret has generously donated me her camera. Who knows--I may even join the mafia.
But until I arrive in Italy, I leave you with the words of the learned biblical scholar Father Guido Sarducci: "Arrivederci, America!"