Bay of Naples, Italy 2020 - Part 2

As our ferry from Capri approached Positano we marveled at the hillside strewn with buildings at all angles and the beaches dotted with umbrellas of all colors. There wasn’t a sliver above the water that wasn’t covered in houses, apartments, or stairs.

We stepped foot back on the mainland and took a second to take it all in before we googled how to get to our hotel in the hills. A mere 700 meters away and not accessible by taxi we had no choice but to walk, but we didn’t mind. At least at first. The path meandered along the coast to a secluded beach before making a hard turn up the hill. It felt like a thousand steps and a million drops of sweat before we reached the front door. I huffed and puffed and wiped the sweat out of my eyes as we checked in.

We’d already spent all day in the sun on Capri and didn’t have much daylight left after checking in so I jogged up the hill to the nearest pizzeria for dinner. I hustled back to Olena with two full pizza boxes and a bottle of wine for a sunset picnic looking out over Positano’s harbor. After some limoncello from Capri to top it all off we had no problem hitting the sack as soon as the sun dipped under the horizon.

Before breakfast on the terrace the next morning we slipped out of our room and down the ‘thousand’ steps to the water. No tourists were in town for the day, yet, other than us. We shared the water with a few old men and the fishermen getting their boats ready. Before long hunger drew us back up the steps despite the pristine water. After a few rolls and an espresso to top up the fuel tank we went right back down to the rocky beach for another day of sun and swimming.

Unfortunately, the good vibes didn’t stop the clock from ticking so before long we had to make our way to the bus stop to catch our ride to Sorrento. We hiked up the hill and made it to the bus stop in time for the last bus to Sorrento and settled in to wait for our 5:45 bus.

5:45 came and went and I started to stress but Olena reminded me that we were in Italy. Things are always late. I pushed down my anxiety for another five minutes. And then ten more. And then finally at 6:15 I looked at her in despair.

With no alternative I popped into a cafe and asked them when the bus might be arriving. In perfect English the woman behind the counter explained to me that a wildfire on the road between Positano and Amalfi was wreaking havoc on the bus route but busses were still coming. Supposedly. As we waited for the phantom bus to appear we started making tourist friends who also wondered what to do. We decided we’d grab a taxi to Sorrento together. €100 doesn’t hurt so bad when you split it six ways, afterall.

But then the bus rounded the corner. Olena and I fought to the front of the line to ensure a spot on the packed bus and made our way to the last two seats in the back row. For the next hour and a half we listened to three loud Scots talk about which is better, Ayahuasca or shrooms, as the huge bus barreled along the narrow coastal road. Hundreds of feet above the ocean. Olena and I stared straight ahead and focused on taking deep breaths so we wouldn’t throw up. After what felt like a lifetime on the bus we piled off in Sorrento, happy to have made it in one piece. But our journey still wasn’t over.

We had to walk 2 kilometers along Sorrento’s narrow streets with our bags. And it was beginning to rain. We made it to the hotel without even a drop hitting us, but as soon as we went back outside for dinner the lightning lit up the night sky around us and the rain began to dump. It took all of two minutes running to the nearest restaurant for us to be soaked through by the summer deluge. Our Italian waiter looked at us incredulously as we told him our order, soaking wet, but luckily served us anyway.

Sorrento was meant to be our relaxing location but we started off the next day with an 11 kilometer walk along the cliffs of Sorrento. We kept an eye on Mount Vesuvius across the bay and looked down at the busy beaches below, lined with row after row of lounge chairs and umbrellas to provide respite from the burning sun. By lunch time we were gassed and the hotel pool was all we were interested in for the rest of the day.

Until sunset, that is. Not one to miss a photograph I dragged Olena to the cliffs looking out over the ocean. Camera in one hand and cup in the other, I alternated taking photos and sipping wine while we watched the blazing red sun peak in and out of the clouds all the way down to the horizon.

On our final day in Italy we made the trek from Sorrento back to Rome for our flight back to Berlin. With half a day in Rome we made sure to take in all the biggest sights, even if we had both seen them before. We stopped by the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon, then walked up the Spanish Steps with hardly a soul in sight.

Over dinner that night we looked back at the past week as if it was some fever dream. We were completely incredulous. I won’t say each city was more beautiful than the next because Capri takes the prize for looks; but each town was so unique and vibrant that I would never tire of exploring. Apparently Olena had the same thought.

“Where are we going next,” Olena asked, before she’d even finished her pasta.

Bay of Naples, Italy 2020 - Part 1

Europe’s COVID stricken summer was drawing to a close and borders were tightening after a short summer tourist season; but Olena and I still had the rest of September off and we were determined to make the most of our free time. While I was biking to Copenhagen she was busy figuring out where we could travel to. She explained our plans over the phone while I was riding along endless cycle paths in the middle of nowhere.

“Flights to Rome are the cheapest,” she began.

“OK,” I said distractedly.

“But you and I have both been to Rome and they don’t have nice beaches,” she continued.

“So we aren’t flying to Rome,” I said.

“No we fly to Rome but then take the train down to Naples. Then we take a ferry to Capri and spend the night. Then we take another ferry to Positano. After a night there we go to Sorrento,” she rattled off excitedly.

“Wait. Where is Capri,” I asked.

“An island off the coast of Italy,” she said, like I was crazy.

“This seems like a lot to do in just a week. Shouldn’t we just pick one place and hang out on the beach? This is supposed to be relaxing, after all.”

“No, no, no. It’ll be amazing, you’ll see,” she said.

Boy, was she right.

That’s how—not even 12 hours after getting back to Berlin from my Copenhagen bike trip—I found myself making my way to the airport at 5 a.m. to fly to Rome.

After our flight and a few trains we made it to Naples around noon and started walking to our hotel. We dodged scooters coming from all directions while avoiding piles of trash and mystery liquids in the gutter. We dropped our bags and made our way right back into the fray of Naples, meandering along the Via dei Tribunali in search of lunch: pizza. A neapolitan pie quickly made all of the disarray of Naples seem worth it and it gave us all the energy we needed to charge through the rest of the day’s activities.

We explored a handful of churches, and as much of the Spanish Quarter as we could handle. Which really isn’t much. We hiked up to the San Martino Monastery for views of Mount Vesuvius and refueled with espresso along the way. After 10 hours we’d already seen all of Naples that we wanted to see, and capped it off with a rich pasta dinner and a bottle of wine.

With Naples checked off our lists, the next day we made like tourists and took the train to Pompeii. Neither of us had been entirely set on going to Pompeii but once we were there we had a blast getting lost among the city’s ancient streets and exploring villas from another time. But after four hours in the Italian heat we called it a day and made our way back to the hotel. On our way we grabbed a pizza from the famous L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele (Eat, Pray, Love, anyone?) and scarfed it down before passing out.

The next morning we zipped up our bags and made our way to the ferry port for our trip to Capri, a small, picturesque island known for limoncello and mega yachts. After shuffling on to the island with a load of tourists we made our way to the scooter shop to get our hands on some wheels. It wasn’t going to be cheap. But it sure beat getting a ton of taxis or sharing air with a dozen other people on Capri’s tiny buses.

I reassured the scooter shop that I knew how to ride a scooter before swerving out onto the street with Olena on the seat behind me and our bags tucked in wherever we could find space. I pulled the throttle back as far as it would go and the little-yellow-scooter-that-could coughed its way up the hill surrounding Capri’s harbor. I struggled to navigate the hairpin turns with the scooter so heavily loaded but after a harrowing ride we made it to our hotel in the mountains.

Not wanting to waste a minute on the idyllic island we tossed our bags in our room and hopped right back on the scooter to explore. The turns were much easier to navigate without bags so we started to enjoy the ride as we made our way up the mountain and over to the south western tip of the island to the beach.

We laid out in the sun and listened to the waves lapping against the rocks. Oh, and the children screaming at the top of their lungs as they jumped into the water. Families swarmed around us, teaching the young ones how to swim and splashing each other in the hot sun.We succumbed to our hunger pangs before the sun got too near the horizon and buzzed on our scooter back to town for dinner and the sunset.

We set our alarms for just before sunrise and rushed out onto the terrace as the sun’s rays turned everything orange. We took picture after picture until the heat of the sun started to overwhelm us, not even 30 minutes after sunrise.

Then, with sunrise over, we made our way straight to La Fontanilla, an exclusive beach club and restaurant that felt like a dream. We soaked up the sun until we got too hot to think straight and then jumped into the turquoise water, over and over again. All morning and afternoon we rotisseried until we had to leave to catch the last ferry to Positano.