To Sorrento
Trip Start
Mar 29, 2006
1
41
232
Trip End
Feb 28, 2007
Sorrento,
Italy
Monday, May 29, 2006
Out of Rome. Southwards along the autostrade goes our coach. The first thing that struck me when we hit the rural areas was that, like the city, there was no sense of neatness about the communities. Once again it looked shabby. Perhaps we were too used to the British countryside which was regimentally neat and tidy as if Mr Clean sweeps through the villages every night and removes anything that looks out of place or untidy. We did hear a rumour that the Brits are actually paid to keep their farms clean and tidy, their stone walls in pristine condition and their Roman remains washed and ancient looking.
There was industry everywhere, which was to be expected, but there seemed to be a lack of regulation which we Aussies take for granted
Amalfi coastal cliff hangers
. The green belt around factories was non existent with nary a tree or a garden in sight which we in Oz are often compelled to include in industrial zones. In the distance there was a pall of pollution. Again not unusual in an industrialised nation like Italy but we had been spoilt by the clarity of the Scottish air in the highlands which had made the peaks and lochs picture perfect. For a country that prides itself on its fashion and style the citizens do not extend that philosophy to its homes, gardens and the countryside in general. Even the city apartments of which there are thousands upon thousands in their rectangular blocks of stone with the same balconies and same colours...there is no style. Mr. Meriton...where are you?I had noticed the previous night lots of beggars on the streets of Rome. More than we saw in Calcutta but on the whole the Italians look prosperous and happy. Marco (our Trafalgar tour guide) gave us a long discourse on the history of Italy from the Etruscans to the present day. He was born in Venice of British parents but spent his teens in the UK. He now lives in Malta which he continually tries to promote including a most boring video which he screened later on in the tour.
From a distance, looking through the windows of the bus, the towns and villages look very pretty but up close, if you will forgive the repetitiveness, they are a little shabby
Positano cheese maker
. There are no sheep. No cattle either for that matter. At least we saw none of either across the fields as we progressed south into Umbrian territory. We had a stop at one of the many 'auto grills' for use of the toilets and something to eat or drink but only if you were game enough to queue up thrice. First to view the victuals, second to pay and receive a docket and thirdly to collect your purchase which of course you may have to wait for it to be prepared. You would not want to be desperately hungry or thirsty. [Reminded me of my attempts to buy lunch in Moscow in the '70's.] Outside I was amazed at the smell of urine that surrounded the place. I had noticed it in the city the day before too. Seems like there are not enough public toilets around or the queues are too long!After skirting Naples...not the most desirable of tourist destinations we were told...we reached the Sorrento coast along which we coasted looking down upon the ocean and the private resorts with their concrete beaches. Surprisingly clear waters for a Mediterranean that I had been taught was not the cleanest sea in the world. The coach then took off inland to make our luncheon date with Mary Mozzarella at her orchard above Positano.
All the time, in the background, Mt. Vesuvious popped in and out of view
Refreshment time
. Sometimes it was clearly defined but mostly it was cloud covered.With great difficulty the coach parked on the hillside opposite the track to the farm so that we could walk up to the old olive press where we were given a talk on how the oils were produced in days gone by. This orchard farm subsisted on seasonally harvested olives from the oldest of trees plus oranges, grapes and most importantly the lemon. Not just any old lemon tree but the finest in Italy. The fruit was pear shape and produced a lemon liqueur called Limoncello. But, before we hit the alcohol we were introduced to Mary, in another outhouse, who proceeded to show us how she made Mozzarella cheese. Dipping and plunging and twisting and tying she ended up with the egg shaped mass that we all recognise.
We then proceeded to our lunch tables laid out in the open air under the cover of a netting of vines. Very pretty. We were served with a cold platter to start with...dripping in oil...plus some of the previously mentioned cheeses. This was followed by a macaroni dish except for Anne who had requested earlier that she be served spaghetti only for any pasta dishes on the menu. She had told Marco that that was all she could stomach and he made every effort to make sure she got a helping of spaghetti at each meal stop much to her embarrassment at times because her servings were often far larger than ours
That fountain and two happy campers
. No meat dish this time. Straight into an alcoholic cake. All was accompanied by a bottle of Chianti. That lunch was an optional extra. We were offered many of these extras. Anne signed up for them all but I decided not to take any of the boat or museum trips.
We were given the opportunity to taste and buy some Limoncello made from the grated rind of the lemon and fermented in alcohol. We bought.
About now I found myself desperately in need of a toilet. Something had gotten into my waste pipes and had redirected my urine into my bowel. It's commonly known as 'the runs' or that long word I have difficulty in spelling. I am very naïve when it comes to using strange toilets and the one here had no paper and no seat and was next door to the ladies. I become very self-conscious at times like these so I prevaricated and suffered internally and nearly exploded on the way back to the coach. I recovered momentarily but forgot that we were not going direct to the hotel but were to do the Amalfi Coast next. It was a hair raising drive around the narrow road hundreds of metres above the sea but my mind was elsewhere most of the time until we reached a pit stop where I invaded the hotel toilet with some success although I believe a section of the cliff fell to the sea below due to the explosion.
We arrived at the Johanna Park hotel in Sorrento shortly after but our room did not have the views that we were led to expect. It was also missing chairs and had an aroma of smoke. Anne was not happy with the room. I went for a walk before dinner down a winding road that seemed to go on forever so I gave up but not before I had taken pictures of the Bay of Naples with Vesuvious in the background.
Dinner was typical and very oily. Fish was the main course after the pasta. I had a beer and a glass of wine which I was advised later was not the wisest thing to drink in my condition. However, the water was not exactly the H2O I am used to. Very sulphurous it was. Straight out of the crater I reckoned. I thought the oil might be part of my problem so I was careful with my quantities. My sleep was disturbed a couple of times by runs to the loo.
