I have been feeling a bit self-conscious blabbling about my carefree rambles through La Bella Italia while so much of what I care for back home is under siege. But the internet is flooded with either sanctimonious gloating, abject mourning and/or virulent recrimination. I’m in the mourning camp, but I’m also in Italy for a little longer, and nothing I do here is going to make a jot of difference about the state of the internet. So I figure that while I am here, I should make the best of this time, so that I’m fully recovered and ready to engage when my feet hit American soil again.

So.

It’s been a while since my last update, and I’ve been a busy boy, so I’m going to skip getting all poetic and eloquent with my descriptions of what’s been up. With that apology, here’s a quick update on a few galivants since I last wrote.

I’m currently northbound on Trenitalia 9628, clocking a smooth, respectable 180 or so miles per hour through the Umbrian countryside. Almost Disney-esque swaths of vineyards whiz by, towns topping the hills like blocky limestone frosting on giant medieval cupcakes. Aqueducts, and silhouettes of ancient, sculpted cedars.

I’m headed for a couple of days in Bologna before visiting a friend who lives part time in a small town on its outskirts. But now, doing my homework enroute, I’m also wishing that I’d allowed myself a bit more time in Bologna itself. I mentioned my intentions to my Canadian friends Jim and Ducky, who spent a month or so there back in the beforetimes, and found myself immediately stuffed with more recommendations to see/do/eat there than I could fulfill if I also had a month. No way I can begin to even touch the roughly three pages of guidance, so I’m going to do the next best thing: take it easy. Have a couple of really good meals, stroll the old part of the city, check out that one weird museum at the top of their list and rest up for the next leg.

Because I do need to rest up a bit. Because there’s a lot of work waiting for me when I get home. And because in spite of best intentions, I ended up trying out too many of the recommendations I got for the Campania, and didn’t really leave myself any time to catch my breath.

So you’ve already heard about Naples. That was fun, but you can’t take the train Four Times Past Pompeii without stopping to see what the hullabaloo is about. Recall that I’d had those two unexpectedly great experiences booking group activities? I decided to roll the dice again, picked the highest rated “Guided Pompeii and Vesuvius Hike” tour I could find and clicked “Buy.”  Well, as Mr. Meat Loaf (neé Marvin Aday) sang, two out of three ain’t bad.

Let me not dwell on my gripes with the tour guide and archeologist for the trip, and just say that we weren’t anywhere near the same wavelength. But hey – pictures!

Pompeii

Vesuvius

The weather was unseasonably spectacular. It has been, throughout this trip. I read that November is the rainiest month in Italy, well past the end of the tourist season, and apparently the week before my arrival the entire country was lashed with cold and brutal rain. Wherever I’ve been headed in country, the forecast, three days out has been for more of the same. And yet, no matter where I’ve gone, by the time I’ve arrived the forecast rain has receded further into the future, and every day, the sky has been clear, with light winds and temps in the upper 60’s to lower 70’s.

Rain was forecast for Florence and for Cinque Terre, then failed to materialize. Then for Sorrento, and same. Naples. Capri – did I mention that I took a boat to Capri yesterday? Same. I thought I was finally heading for the heart of the weather by pushing north, to Bologna. Showers reported for the next few days. But this morning the rain has inexplicably gone elsewhere. At least they’re having normal temps for the season – mid-50’s – so I can finally put that fleece and sweater I brought to good use.

I should mention that Sorrento itself was been lovely. Like the villages of Cinque Terre, it’s built into a hillside, but instead of having a population measured in the hundreds, it’s got a nominal 15,000 year-round residents. So over the centuries that hillside has been dug out, terraced into cliff-hanging bars, hotels and restaurants. There is a flat part up top, and that’s where the town’s main promenade is. Even this late in “the season” it had a bit of a Bourbon St feel to it – Beautiful People out there to Be Seen, mixed with raucous party goers and families trying to keep strollers and unconstrained offspring moving in the same direction.

Just a block off, though, there were still ample traces of the old town. The quiet winding streets with little shops where you’d be forgiven your bad Italian and answered with an encouraging smile rather than a bored reply in English. (I swear, there were more fish and chips restaurants on the promenade than any other kind of shop, and more British accents than anything).

So Sorrento was lovely, but I was grateful I was seeing it in November, rather than high season, when I understand that it better resembles Disney’s Main Street, USA.

Bay of Naples and Vesuvius from Sorrento Harbor

Speaking of Disneyland – Capri. Yeah, I know. When I think of Capri, I think fabulous, rich insufferable Beautiful People from the 50’s summering there. And hordes, absolute hordes of tourists flocking to the island, clogging it to get a taste of that fabulousness, or at least a couple of photographs of it. For some inexplicable reason, I still thought it was a good idea to book a ride out to see what it was all about.

And…I’m glad I did. As before, I booked a package – boat ride both ways and bus between the Harbor, the town of Capri and its country cousin, Anacapri on the north side of the island. A guide too, but the schedule seemed to indicate that there would be lots of built-in free time to explore the two towns on our own. And there was. And this time I ended up with the best guide I’ve had in Italy, a local young gentleman named Michele of Cioffe Tours. Great match – he seemed to read my mind: when I saw something that made me curious, it turned out that that’s where he was taking us next, and every time a question popped into my mind, I knew he was going to answer it in the next sentence. It helped that he seems to know, and be liked by everyone on the island we crossed paths with. (Note: while we were chatting on the way back to the bus, he told me that aggregators like Viator can take up to 30% of their revenue, and reinforced my resolve to try to book directly with the guides when I can.)

Anyhow, Capri wasn’t entirely deserted, but it wasn’t far from. Sort of what you would expect of a normal, non-tourist destination. Think Port Townsend on a non-ship weekday.

La Piazzetta in Capri. Allegedly the most fashionable square in the world. Not today…

Walking around the Capri’s two towns, I got the appeal: the island was startlingly beautiful. Incredible, almost theatrical limestone cliffs dropping into the sea, with old, old villas and bold modernistic ones clinging to improbable perches, and great green swaths of peri-tropical foliage everywhere. If you were Jackie Kennedy, Clark Gable or Princess Grace (or the Emperor Tiberius, who built his villa here in 27 C.E., or in modern times, Beyoncé, Leonardo DiCaprio, or Kim Kardashian, according to Google), I could see saying, Yeah, here is nice. Let’s come back here again.

Okay, train is reaching my stop. More later…

Sorrento sunset