18 June 2016
I remember writing this on the ferry back from Capri to Naples, my eyes wilting with tiredness. It was a long day, but so good and full of adventure.
Despite waking up on time, we were slightly late leaving the hostel and had to run, amazing race style, bags bumping on our backs, down to the harbour.When we got there, there was a panic over the tickets which we had printed without realising those were the receipts which we then had to convert into real tickets. I waited in the line while Nat went to change our receipt into tickets, but the ticket office didn't recognise the receipt. And so we missed our boat.
That was worrying, since the entire days plan happened on an island called Capri, accessible only by boat from Naples. We went back to the ticket office, and asked again for a ticket. The man behind the glass screen was grudging at first, and said that he didn't know how to find them, but after repeated asking, he made a call, found our tickets, and printed them so that we could take the second ferry out.
We sat next to a Chinese woman who took a selfie with us on her selfie stick, before I fell asleep for the rest of the ride, lulled by the boat's gentle rocking, and was awoken by Nat when we pulled into the Marina Grande Port. Marina Grande was touristy and crowded, and we squeezed through the crowds to get tickets for the funicular ride up the mountain to Capri. After we walked down a couple of alley ways and left the crowd behind us we had the space to appreciate the beautiful white buildings of the island, buildings which Nat said were reminiscent of the postcard pictures of Santorini.
I caught the smell of pine as we walked up and down the steep steps along the slopes of Capri, the hills on our right and to our left, brilliant blue sea as far as the horizon. Giovanni did say Capri was just a pretty toy for tourists, and I can see why, because it really is beautiful. But I don't think it is just a toy - it has beautiful hiking trails and gardens, a wonderful church, a historic villa, and a perfumerie with little pots of scent outside the shops so that the pavement beside it is suffused with gorgeous scent.
We had bread and plums and an apple and a Valencia orange each under the shade of a tree for lunch. Despite the hordes of tourists, it is easy to find quiet on Capri, and despite the intense heat, I felt such a peace, a contrast to the panic of the morning.
We got a bus from Capri to Anacapri, standing at the back and resting our chin along a platform at the back of the bus to catch some of the breeze because the bus rounds the bends of Capri at a hundred miles an hour it seems and yet still the air is still.
In Anacapri, we see the quirky church of San Michele, which Raph recommended we visit. He had taken refuge there when his friends took the chairlift up the mountain in Anacapri, because (bless him) he is afraid of heights. We avoided the chairlift for a different reason - our student budget! The floor of the San Michele church is its masterpiece, made of painteed tiles that fit together to form a depiction of the Garden of Eden. Some of the animals looked a bit funky - I swear one of the crocodiles had a human looking ear!
Then we walked to Villa San Michele, home to Axel Munthe, author of The Story of San Michele, philanthropist, animal activist and physician. He built the Villa to be 'open for the sun and the wind and the voices of the sea - like a Greek temple - and light, light, light everywhere!', perhaps because he also believed that 'the soul needs more space than the body'.
Nat and I decide to peruse the museum shop rather than go into the Villa itself because of a prohibitory entrance fee, and inside the shop we dissolve into laughter because a man and the cashier (at separate times) both fart, which reminds us of how Nat had heard Lajoc fart loudly and pointedly in the direction of the girls dorm the previous night!
We had to take a bus ride back to Marina Grande, which was an exhilarating whirl of dust and light and the fear of the door between my shoulder blades. We had some time to end the day at the beach, which we walked all the way along, watching people sun bathing or swimming or children clambering up the rock pier that was at the end of the beach.
On the ferry back, we go out through a door marked 'private' onto the boat's deck, where it is loud with the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. You can see the foam-trail the motor leaves in the water, like a lace pattern on the ocean, and if you look over the front of the boat, Naples grows closer and closer. I felt so free and exuberant and I waved to the people in a cruise ship that we passed, and they waved back! Small moment of connection.
We ended the day the best way - with a Gino's pizza each. As we carried the boxes back to Giovanni's, we passed an elderly Italian man who, spying the pizza boxes in our hands, piped 'Buon Appetito!' in a thin, high-pitched voice.
'Grazie!'
We walked into the lounge in Giovanni's to see Lajoc reclining in a chair, and remembering his fart last night both of us burst into laughter! He looked bemused, and we tried to stifle our laughter and eat our pizza, but suddenly the strangest sound began, a 'brrrzzt brrrzzt', which just triggered another bout of laughter. It turned out to be Lajoc's chair, which was a massage chair. He left that night, that funny cartoon boy, and the minute he stepped out of the house, it began raining!
19 June 2016
Last night was insane. I had been sleeping peacefully, when suddenly I heard the sound of stumbling, retching, and - oh dear god - splattering as vomit hit the floor. One of the North Carolina girls in our room was being sick, and I squeezed my eyes tight shut, afraid of what I'd see if I opened them. I heard another of the North Carolina girls come in, and take her sick friend out. She came back in with a mop and cleaned up after her. I needed to use the bathroom (excellent timing, as usual) and so I unpeeled my eyes. Thankfully, none of the sick had gone on my book stash under the bed, my suitcase at the end of the bed, or our chargers at the plugs. The girl mopping explained that her friend, who had already been ill the day before and hadn't eaten anything, had had too much to drink.
The next morning the sick girl apologised, and all the girls left, without telling Giovanni. Another girl in our room let him know, and he got the cleaner to come in and give the place a thorough wipe down. My heart hurt for him, because the North Carolina girls had betrayed his trust - his only rule for his hostel is that you shouldn't get drunk on hostel premises.
Both Nat and I were tired from the past two days and from our disrupted sleep, and decided to stay in Naples and take it slow. When I told Giovanni that, his face crinkled into a smile and he called us 'bella bella'. He also calls us 'spice girls'.
We walked down to the Molo Beverello pier, posted our postcards, tried the challenge of walking in a straight line between the horses in Piazza del Plebescito (Nat managed but in my two tries I was way off, due to the imperceptible slope of the piazza).
It was nice to just have a slow day - no running for ferrys or hiking up mountains, just seeing the people of Naples, the accordion man we'd seen playing enthusiastically on the first day, sifting through the market, peering into windows and stopping often...
We got back at around 1.30pm, and Giovanni had new guests. He was delighted that we were back in time for lunch, and made an incredible pasta lunch for us, like the first day, but this time it was Penne Arrabiatta, whipped up in 10 minutes.
We wrote a card for Giovanni after lunch, and gave to to him, our hearts heavy with the knowledge that the chances of seeing him the next morning before we left were slim. He read it, a smile spreading across his face, and hugged and kissed us and called us 'bella bella bella' and told us to come back in the future - and to bring our babies! He truly is so kind.
We spent the rest of the day indoors, except when we decided to go hunting for bananas - just as a storm started brewing. (Excellent timing again!) We ran to the corner shop, partly to out run the storm and partly because we wanted to catch the German guys before they left. The Indian minimart wanted to charge us 3.50 Euro for 4 bananas, and we thought that Carrefour express was closed, so we ran back empty handed but in time to say goodbye.
After dinner, we were in our dorm room when we heard a knock.
'Can I come in?'
It was Giovanni, who had gone out to the shops, and had brought back bananas for us!
It is not possible to know how far the influence of any amiable honest-hearted duty-doing man flies out into the world; but it is very possible to know how it has touched one's self in going by - Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
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