Nerves of Steel

Capri and Sorrento were today's congested, sunny locales. In the evening we visited a farm, all of four acres big. Most of the food we ate for dinner came from said farm. 

The beautiful and charming four acre farm featured a watch goose that hissed at us when we came onto the property, more than 200 olive trees, livestock, mozzarella making demonstrations and a fine, five course meal. And this dog, sleeping on the roof.

Today I learned that the island of Capri is not volcanic. It is a massive outcrop of limestone slowly dissolving into the sea. In the meantime, it offers spectacular views, several interesting grottos and a view of the road engineering of the German steel manufacturer, Alfred Krupp.

Road closed: private road built for beach access by the father of the man who built arms for Hitler.

Our tour guide had us out of the hotel and onto the bus before 8 a.m. The bus took us to the port at Sorrento where we boarded a half-empty ferry bound for Capri.

Some members of the tour group while Capri was still not crowded. That changed.

Off of that boat, we boarded another that took us about a third of the way around the island and back.

Capri from the sea: so beautiful, so fragile, so destined to return to the sea.

Back on dry land on Capri, we rode the funicular up to where the pricey shops were. Fun fact: on Capri, one family runs the public washroom business. Every trip to the loo costs .50 euros. 

Sea arch just below the Giardini di Augusto. This shot is remarkable in that there are no other boats in the picture.

We followed along with the crowd of our fellow travellers on the included tour past the fancy shops and down to the Giardini di Augusto. 

We ate at the restaurant recommended by the guide: caprese salad of course.

I'm getting used to how the trip works: we do lots of things in the morning and then get a short break mid-day and then do lots of things from about 4 p.m. to 9 p.m. The trick is to actually get some rest during the mid-day break or the second part of the day is exhausting.

Southern Italy has no tillable soil left alone: there are olive and lemon and orange trees; there are tomato plants and fennel growing. Any soil the least productive is producing something. These olives grew on the grounds of our comfortable and charming hotel. I bit into one to see how it tasted. It tasted very bad. 

Nerves of steel are what the drivers of the buses and mini-vans that carry us around have. Narrow streets, steep inclines, harrowing drop offs, hair pin turns, oncoming traffic and scooters zipping in and out like bees mean nothing to the men navigating these beast machines. 

Thanks for reading!

Karen