Il Piccalo Paradiso – Italy

By: Melissa Vinitsky

Il Piccalo Paradiso

My terrible experience in Napoli (I awarded the city the honor of being the “Worst City in Europe”) was redeemed ten times over by my wonderful time in Capri and Amalfi. Capri is a backpackers’ paradise. Although a bit expensive, there is so much to do there I felt like I was at camp. Each day held a different outdoor activity. I stayed in Anacapri, the lesser-known town above the hustle and bustle of more expensive Capri Town, at a great hostel. In fact, it was the only hostel and the cheapest place on the island, called Bussola di Hermes. It is run by a lovely young woman named Rita and her brother. It’s the kind of place where you can check out whenever you like and all the guests gather in the courtyard at night to drink wine and make plans for the evening.

At the hostel I met some wonderful and colorful people, such as Dominque, a gay Italian with Tourette syndrome – he didn’t swear, but had the nervous ticks at night and would shout out “WOW!” after anything you said, but it was great because it made me feel like my stories were so entertaining. His enthusiasm was very catchy, plus he had such an enthusiastic energy for life that he soon knew everyone on the island.

His familiarity with the locals was only matched by my Brazilian friend, Madeline, who had been there for three weeks already (it is hard to leave that magical place, as I soon found out). She could not walk down the street without saying “ciao” to every shopkeeper. Her most lovable trait was her relaying of Brazilian sayings; she had one for every occasion. My favorite was: “In the end, everything is OK. And if it’s not OK, that’s because it’s not the end.” Our Anglo version of that became, “It is what it is what it is, until it isn’t.”

Another good friend was Andrea, from Michigan. We spent a wonderful day riding the chair lift up Mt. Solero where we were gifted with a magnificent view of the island. Capri is made of sharp, high cliffs, that plunge dramatically into the ocean hundreds of feet below. And there are the Faraglioni, two hollow rock islands that sit alongside the shore. We decided to walk down the mountain, and then rented kayaks to paddle out to the Faraglioni and inbetween its arches, which to me looked like nature’s cathedral. I expected classical music to start playing at any moment.

To top off the day, we scampered to the other side of the island to swim into the Blue Grotto. While during the day the only way into the cave is on a tourist boat, after 6pm the boats stop and you can enter free of charge. The only thing you need is a bit of bravery to make your way through the sometimes choppy waves, but don’t worry, there is a chain that will guide you through the cave entrance. The Blue Grotto is a cave where the light somehow mysteriously enters the cave from below and lights up the water from underneath, so it looks like a blue neon light is shining up from the depths. The whole cave is bathed in a bright, blue light. Beautiful.

Then, it was off to the other side to swim, drink some beers, jump off cliffs, and watch the sunset. Of course, there would be no leaving the next day.

That night coalesced when I found out that Pablo Neruda, the poet I had learned about in Chile, had visited the island and there was a monument to him on the other side. There was also a monument to another poet who I had miraculously just discovered that day, Rainer Maria Rilke. So the following day became one of pilgrimage as I visited these sights, climbing back up the mountain, which was now in the midst of clouds being made; we had mist flying around us like spirits rising from the grave. I could see why poets and writers visit this enchanting island, it definitely inspires.

I was then introduced to the pinnacle of Capri – Faro Beach. This is a place that is hard to leave even when the sun goes down. There is a wonderful cafe right on the water, with five or six hammocks which you can sway in all day as you watch the waves crash on the rocks, a mojito or caipirinha drink in your hand, listening to such great tunes as Ben Harper, Ani di Franco, and hip lounge music. People hang out in this place all day, playing cards, eating, and chatting. It is run by a beautiful young couple who are expecting their first child. We would sit until the sun set, waiting for the green flash to appear so we could make our wish.

One of the highlights of my nights there was when an Italian group of singers and performers, on the island for the annual festival that runs through all of September, sat at the table beside us. This was our favorite restaurant, where we had been served great octopus salad – the waiter had caught the octopus himself that morning (now, that’s my kind of man!). Somehow, one of the drunken singers began to tell us about his first sexual encounter. It was hilarious! In broken English, he explained how he was in the bathroom for half an hour trying to put the condom on, and when he finally got it on, he said, “and then….he fall down.” Poor guy. However, he was successful. “Then, ten minutes later, he come back up, and I jump on her.” We were roaring, and were treated with traditional Italian songs, such as “Leaving on a Jet Plane.”

I finally tore myself away from Capri after five days (which is a long time in one place when you are travelling). It was sad to leave the many friends I had made, both other travellers and locals, once again forming a community as in Essouira. But sometimes, that is a sign to leave. I guess for myself, I am in search of the unfamiliar, and when things become too comfortable, it’s time to move on. The red moon I had seen two nights before as we danced underneath the pouring rain at Faro Cafe was a message.

So off I headed to Amalfi, which is not too different from Capri, just a boat ride away, yet it has its own special kind of magic. Homes are stacked like children’s building blocks along the sharp hillside, and high mountains reach back into forever, creating hundreds of valleys and peaks, with tons of paths for hiking.

There I met an American who had been living there for two years, writing books and teaching English. We listened to the enchanting voice of Pepe Barre, the most famous Napolitani singer, who sang on the beach beneath a full moon, his music a historical overview of the region – it is rich with Arab and Spanish sounds, an indication of Amalfi’s merchant past. There I was introduced to Jean-Paulo, the “mayor” of Amalfi. I dined with 25 Italians who were celebrating the end of their Medieval Games, a four course meal with pizza, salad, sea food, and melon, and plenty of beer. During the dinner, the American leaned over to me and whispered covertly, “I told everyone you are a journalist.” I had not told him my profession or my career ambitions, so I found that very strange and a bit fortuitous.

The next day I hiked up to Ravello, one of the most beautiful spots on the Mediterranean. It has an incredible view from two beautiful villas, Villa Rufolo and Villa Cimbrone. On the way down, while waiting for the bus, Jean-Paulo drove by on his Vespa and shouted “Ciao Melissa” (I love that!), so I hoped on the back and he gave me a ride into town, and I felt so very Italian.

My friends from DC arrived in Amalfi, and we spent a wonderful day at the beach at their hotel, accompanied by our little rabbit friend (yes, a rabbit). We visited a lemoncello factory (the region is know for the lemons and lemoncello is a lemon liquor), where we got free samples – straight to our head! Then to the paper museum, where our enthusiastic guide explained to us how there used to be 18 paper mills in Amalfi and all the paper is made not from trees, but from cloth. I bought the most beautiful leather bound journal there, second in price only to the carpet I purchased in Morocco!

Then it was back to Rome, where I got my second scooter ride, this time as transportation to the hostel. With my big backpack on my back, and my “chauffeur” zigzagging through traffic (he told me, “hold on to me like I am your boyfriend”), I thought I was going to have a heart attack! I could not believe my eyes when I walked into the hostel and there sat April, my Aussie friend from Amalfi.

One morning in Amalfi, prompted my praise of Capri and encouragement to do spontaneous things, she decided to dash off to catch the ferry to the island. However, when I came back that evening, there she was sitting on her bed with a big patch over her head. She had tripped and fallen and landed smack on her head, and had to be rushed to the hospital where she received six stitches! Poor girl. And I felt so responsible. But even more, I felt sad that she would not get to experience the magic that is Capri.