Volterra: Italian for Vol-Earth

(Note:  Obviously the title to this blog is incorrect.  But we had nothing witty to say.  Maybe that should be Shaffer's epigraph:  "Nothing witty to say.")

We know we said we'd be out of touch for 3 days, but we stumbled upon a great enoteca: wine bar, with free wi-fi, so you lucked out!

In Cortona, at a enoteca with internet

Our agriturismo, Podere Marcampo, was a veritable oasis in the middle of the tuscan countryside.  Perhaps Oasis in the wrong word.  It was an oasis in that it was an awesome, refreshing hideaway, in the middle of more awesomeness.  On our approach, we were absolutely speechless.  We checked in with a lithe, shirtless Italian man wearing far too short of shorts.  He looked like a minor villain in a James Bond movie.  He greeted us by saying:  "Herr Claridge...with the luggage...or rather..." and at this point he smiled broadly "...without the luggage."  We wonder how long he had prepared and practiced that joke.  I also wonder why he thought that I was German, and why that thought persisted after he had seen me.  In any event, he showed us to our room, where our long lost luggage was waiting for us. 

A beautiful sight.....and the Italian countryside behind her.

These terse, unpoetic words cannot describe the sheer joy we felt at being reunited with our clothes.  We seriously had to fight the urge to rifle through our bags and briefly put on each of our outfits in succession.  While we had been having a very good time in Sorrento, the sweaty clothes, and concern over our bags had dampened our spirits slightly:  We were often in our room either showering, or waiting for a promised phone call from the airport that never came.  The new clothes went a long way towards rejuvenating us, and it felt like it was finally time to truly start our vacation. 

Also, the trip from Sorrento up to Tuscany similarly changed our outlook.  The south reminded us very much of Mexico:  We mean that as a compliment both to Southern Italy and to Mexico.  It was vibrant, youthful, energetic, and alive.  Vibrant street vendors lined the narrow strade (streets) leading down to the harbor with its brilliant blue water.  It was exciting, but also a bit exhausting.  We spent the perfect amount of time down there, but felt a much different vibe when we got into Tuscany:  The land was ancient, serene, slower, more stoic.  In a word, Tuscany was relaxing. 

View from the Agriturismo

We spent a bit of time surveying our agriturismo.  Wine was available to purchase by the bottle, and the owner of the establishment was also a restauranteur with a place in Volterra, and a wine-maker.  There were several rows of vines on the premises, but Shaffer thinks them to few to produce wine in any meaningful quantity.  However, as Amy reminds him, Shaffer knows absolutely nothing about the production of wine.

Entrance to our room

Fresh clothes and grapes at the Agriturismo

Our room was simple, yet divine.  A closet to put all of the clothes we were so recently reacquainted with in, and a lovely bathroom.  The bathroom came complete with a state-of-the-art shower, with an adjustable head, jacuzzi jets on the walls (that we never really figured out how to use) and even a shower bench.  (Mind out of the gutter, Jennifer Zec Reed).  Of course, like any Italian bathroom, it came complete with a Bidet.

The agriturismo also had a very nice swimming pool, with very cold water:  Refreshing given the intense and humid heat here.  Amy suggested (very wisely) that we spend some time at the pool before going to explore Volterra.  We laid by the edge, reading our Kindles, and gazing at the rolling Tuscan hills.  Our view was truly spectacular:  A rolling countryside painted with reds, greens, and golds.  The occasional villa or agriturismo rising gently out of the background.  Standing at the edge, gazing out over this vast dominion, one felt a connection to the past:  You could imagine yourself as the ancient Roman Praetor Guadagnoli looking out over her vassals.  (Don't worry Lorin, more shout outs on the way.  Especially if some Italian parks his car too close to our driver's side door).

The dominion of Lorin Guadagnoli- and the view from our Agriturismo

We took a brief dip in the pool.  Everything is so very peaceful, so very serene that any sound seems a great cacophony:  We took care to make no splash as we got in the pool.  Every ripple seemed offensive to the tranquility, so we dared not swim:  We merely floated.  In the background, our host argued with a visiting Spaniard over soccer.

For Dr. Ryan Smith's eyes only.

Eventually, we left for Volterra.  Volterra is an ancient Etruscan city, with roots stretching as far back as the 8th century B.C.  Massive walls surround the city, and its hilltop perch gave it an excellent means of defense.  Defense was sorely needed.  Between incursions from Rome, various medieval factions, Florence, the French, and later the Allied Forces in World War II, the city has seen much war.  Oh, and werewolves, or whoever else the vampires in Twilight care about.  E-mail Jen Costa for a definitive answer.

Typical street in Volterra.

Stoic Volterra

Arriving in Volterra, we intended only to get the lay of the land, and eat some dinner.  We first climbed a steep alley to a beautiful park presided over by a great castle.  We later learned that this was a Fortrezza di Medici:  A fortress of the Medici family who for so long ruled Florence.  Today it is a maximum security prison, housing criminals mainly from Sicily, so as to keep them removed from their well-developed connections. 

We ate at a quaint Trattoria on a quiet side-street.  The fare in Tuscany is a bit heavier than in the south:  Amy had a Lasagna which was quite tasty, but very little resembled conventional lasagna.  Shaffer had a bistecchina:  A small, thin steak marinated with olive oil, pink peppers, and rosemary.  It was quite tasty, and especially tender.  After dinner, we enjoyed some gelato, and took in some of the city.  On our way back to Lucia (who was conveniently parked in an underground garage, flirting with the FIATs), we stopped and bought some fresh salami, three bottles of wine (for only 12 Euro) and were given free bread.  Then it was back to the agriturismo, where we enjoyed perhaps the first truly restful sleep of the entire vacation. 

Gelato!!

The next morning we enjoyed breakfast at the agriturismo, consisting of bread, home-made salami, cheese, fresh fruit, and for Amy her first Italian Cappuccino.  The Cappuccino was made by our host Guenino and, in Amy's opinion, was the best that she has ever had.  (With all due respects to Bob and Jody Claridge).  As we finished with breakfast, Amy noticed a distinctively Italian cat poking around the premises.  (If you are confused as to how a cat could be distinctively Italian then you OBVIOUSLY have never been to Italy).  She watched it as it climbed onto a large, terracotta pot, peeked in, and then vanished inside.  Fearing that it might get stuck, we hurried over to investigate.  Inside was the cat...nursing a litter of 6 or 7 new born kittens!  The night earlier, we had noticed a similarly colored cat (who we assume to be the father) sneaking off into the vineyard.  Shaffer assumes it was to smoke a cigar.  Amy assumed (more accurately) that it was probably to smoke a mouse.  We snapped a couple of pictures before Mommy-Cat chased us away, hissing and biting all the way.  Thus these pictures came at great personal risk; many Bothan spies died to bring you this information.

Cute baby cats and an angry momma.

Il colazione: breakfast Italian style

Cappuccino!

After breakfast, we returned to Volterra, with an agenda.  We walked the length of virtually the entire town, stopping at shrines, churches, ancient Medici palaces, and various places.  Most charged an entry fee, and we are on a bit of a budget, so there is much that will just have to wait for our return trip.  Highlights of what we did see included two very distinctive fountains, as seen below.  We were not sure whether they were at one time used for drinking water, or perhaps baths.  Signs today indicate clearly that the water is not potable.  As if the presence of fish, bird feathers, bird droppings, a million actual birds, and various aquatic fauna did not already tell us that.  Perhaps they were always purely ornamental.  We also saw an old Etruscan arch.  The sides of the arch are made of alabaster, and date as far back as the 5th century B.C., with renovations made first in the 2nd century B.C. and the vault of the arch restored in medieval times.  As the Nazis retreated from the town in World War II, they wanted to destroy the arch to halt the allied advance.  Instead, citizens of the town tore up the stones of the road in front of the town, showing that the arch need not be destroyed.  Though it frustrated the Allied war effort, the incident saved this breathtaking marvel of ancient construction. 

Fountain in Volterra

Etruscan Arch: Some of it almost 3000 years old

The main product of the town is alabaster, and has been for centuries.  Much of the town is composed of alabaster, and merchants throughout sell various trinkets, ranging from jewelery, to chess sets, to busts, to full statutes even.  One museum displays a large (maybe 10 feet tall) replica of the Tower of Pisa, meticulously crafted and all in alabaster.  (Because of course the Italians have enough time to meticulously reproduce a scaled statute of a monument that is only 20 miles away...and then let people see it for free).  Amy bought a beautiful alabaster rose pendant from a merchant who must have been in his 90s and moved very, very carefully.

There were two museums that we thought about seeing:  An Etruscan museum and a Torture museum.  We decided that we would see the Etruscan museum in Cortona (described in a later post) and were on the threshold of entering the torture museum before losing our nerve.  As a scholar of the Spanish Inquisition, Shaffer understands the purposes and philosophy of medieval torture, and while not condoning its use today, holds no ethnocentric judgments about its use in the past.  However, the lobby alone turned our stomachs a bit, and we just decided to retreat to live to view another museum.

Entrance to the Torture Museum: Shaffer looks nervous already

On our way out of town we purchased fresh nectarines, cherries, white wine, and mozzarella di buffalo:  Mozzarella from the water buffalo.  (Aren't you glad that I translated mozzarella for you guys?)  It seems to be very common here.  Or maybe they just try to make tourists think that.  Then it was back to Marcampo for some more time by the pool, and then a gorgeous light lunch with the bread and meat from the day before, and the goods that we bought.  And two bottles of wine.  Yep, two.  For lunch.

Beautiful Italian lunch at the Agriturismo.

Our last night in Volterra we ate at another smaller ristorante.  Amy had tagliatelle:  A broad type of noodle, which was served with clams, mussels, shrimp tomatoes and some various herbs.  It was delicious, and Shaffer wishes he would have got it too.  Amy only gave him two bites.  Instead, he had frutti di Mare fritti:  Fried shrimp and calamari.  It was good, but a bit over priced.  Also, the shrimp had their entire shells still on, making eating them a bit of an adventure.  For dessert, we had tiramisu with bubbling, warm espresso in the center.  Che Bella!

Tagliatelle with sea food

Volterra was a step back in time:  Walled with cobblestone streets, fountains, and beautiful parks and gardens.  The scale of it was overwhelming:  The walls had to be at least 40 feet high, and felt impenetrable, despite their ancient construction.  The town was more reserved, and slower than Sorrento, but in a way much more friendly.  Down south, we would try to order in our (admittedly elementary) Italian.  "Vorrei gli gnocchi..."  (I would like gnocchi).  And our waiters would answer back in perfect, accented English.  "Yes, gnocchi, what to drink?"  In Volterra, most of our conversations were carried out in Italian, with a few words of English offered when things got confusing.  People seemed genuinely happy that we were speaking Italian, or at least trying.  It was a very good, welcoming feeling.

Our time in Volterra and at our agriturismo ended too quickly:  We would have liked to spend a full week.  It is a feeling that we expect to have at each of our destinations in this beautiful country.  There is much more that could be said about Volterra, but we're about out of wine at the wine bar, and Linda Cathey is probably bored by now.  So we will leave you, dear friends. (Special thanks to our #1 reader, and Shaffer's favorite cousin, Betsy Friedland- Love you Bets!)

Up Next:  Shorter vignettes on gelato, vino and restaurants in Italy.  All to whet your appetite for a longer blog on beautiful Cortona!  Also, more shout outs!

Arrivederci     

To Volterra, warp factor nine!

(Note:  This blog post, and especially its title, are dedicated to Captain Benjamin Molin, Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Minnesota.  Love you big guy.)

We had an amazing time in Sorrento, but the occasional cloud hung over our stay.  Not having a change of clothes began to wear on us a bit, and we had trouble communicating with the customer service reps at the airport.  Thus we accrued some charges on the hotel phone, and even had to use our cell phone eventually to get some answers.  Finally, on our penultimate day there, we were informed that our bags had finally arrived in Zurich, leading us to speculate that they must have been waylaid in San Fransisco.  Unfortunately, this meant that we would not get the bags until we headed north to Volterra.  Oh well.  C'e la vita. 

On the way out of Sorrento

We decided that it would be fun to rent a car to drive from Sorrento into Volterra, and the surrounding Tuscan countryside.  This would be both scenic, and practical:  Much of Tuscany and Umbria is made up of remote hill-towns, with few trains or buses connecting them.  We had on good and trusted authority that the car was really the way to go for this region.

The rental car agency (Hertz) was a mere 100 meters from our hotel.  Despite seeing some...innovative...driving strategies from the locals, Shaffer was fairly confident that we could navigate the distance and at least make it back to the hotel.  After all, it was only 100 meters.  We got to Hertz, and promptly signed our lives away in the case that anything should happen to the vehicle.  Shaffer scoured the contract just to make sure there was no "pound of flesh" clause, and in the end we just signed the thing.  In return, we got our car:  A grey, four door diesel Lancia, who we promptly named Lucia.  Yep, Lucia Lancia:  We think it has a ring to it.  Lucia has a manual transmission, which at first gave Shaffer pause.  However, compared to the old, finicky Lil' Dodge that Shaffer learned to drive on, Lucia goes through her paces well.  While very compact compared to most American cars, she is quite a bit bigger than a lot of her Italian counterparts.  She has thus far served admirably.  But we are getting ahead of ourselves.  Because, at the moment, we were only concerned with the brief, 100 meter drive from Hertz to the hotel.  Just 100 meters.

Lucia Lancia!

It was the worst 100 meters of Shaffer's life.  Even worse than that time in Junior High when he ran the 100 meters with an inner ear infection and vomited thereafter right next to the girls that he had crushes on.  The trip involved much honking and biting of thumbs by the locals, a trip the wrong way down a one way street, a near collision with a Vespa, and a game of chicken with a bus which ended with Shaffer mounting the sidewalk and driving along it for some distance.  Luckily, Shaffer kept a cool resolve under this pressure:  During the course of the drive he said, in order:  "This is kind of stressful.  This is horrible.  This is my nightmare.  We might die driving honey.  We WILL die driving."  And finally, the coup-de-grace:  "Make your peace, this is the last minute that we have alive."  Somehow, despite all of this, we made it to the hotel, and settled in for a restless night.  In 4 day old clothes. 

Leaving Sorrento the next morning was a bit tricky.  After getting through town (with a couple more wrong turns), we were headed north on a winding, two lane road.  The road itself was well maintained.  It was a Sunday, and there were very few people heading north with us.  However, it seems that all of Italy had been alerted to our presence, and was driving South to see the nervous American, and try to see how much they could scare him.  Actually, Amy reasoned that they were probably heading to the southern beaches for some R&R.  In any event, the end result was many, many vehicles traveling in the direction opposite us.  And Vespas.  Vespas which swerve into your lane to pass the other cars, and continue in your lane, roaring down the maybe 1 yard-wide corridor between the lanes of traffic.  Amy calls them "gnats," so named for both their distinctive sound, and the annoyance they cause.  We believe that Dante's Inferno should be amended to include a circle of hell in which the tortured soul must continually drive amidst a flock of Vespas. 

Southern Italy by car

More driving in the south

Eventually, we reached the AutoStrada, the Italian freeway system.  The AutoStrada is very well maintained, and much more predictable.  It very much resembled driving on any freeway in the United States.  We took it fairly slow, averaging 120 kilometers-per-hour.  Lucia (the car) really relished the chance to get out and stretch her legs.  And what legs she has!  She is one sexy car, but I digress.  We stopped briefly at an Autogrill for lunch.  Autogrills are essentially truck stops on the side of the AutoStrada.  The one we stopped at was fairly crowded, mostly with locals.  We ordered due panini, and Shaffer again had a Crudo:  Just raw prosciuto.  It was fantastic.  Even the fast food in Italy tastes divine.  We exited (through the gift shop, as was mandatory) and were back on the road.  We left the AutoStrada just south of Siena.  It is a toll road, and we ended up paying 22 Euros for the 3.5 hours that we traveled on it.   Had we traveled on some other road, we might have paid with our lives.

The Autostrada

Passing through Rome

Getting off the AutoStrada, we got into the heart of Tuscany.  As we said earlier, Tuscany consists mainly of small, hill towns.  Our path brought us up to the crest of hills, and through the dozens of little towns dotting the countrysides.  And it brought us some pretty spectacular views.  The pictures won't do them justice.  They can't.  What you really miss out on is the vast depth of the panorama:  Layer upon layer of golden hills, red clay soil, green, yellow, and purple fields, with the occasional one-lane road clinging desperately to the hill side, hills undulating down into heavily wooded ravines, and back up to villas and monasteries on their peaks.  Absolutely breathtaking. 

The beautiful Tuscan countryside

Rolling hills and fields

The drive was amazing, if perhaps a bit tricky.  There was plenty of down-shifting involved, and we spent most of the time between 3rd and second gear.  We didn't mind though, we were too caught up in the countryside, and the charming little towns we passed through.  The radio stations in Italy are an eclectic mix:  Heavy does of American music mixed in with the native Italian.  We were serenaded with the likes of Katy Perry, Johnny Cash, Elton John, Tracy Chapman, and even Meat Loaf!  (Here's looking at you Rob Guadagnoli...er...I mean Rob Vermillion.  Whoops.)

Grape vines

Eventually we made it to the hill town of Volterra, our retreat for the span of two days.  Volterra is at the heart of the Etruscan Empire:  A pre-Roman league of towns that flourished from 900 B.C. - 1 A.D.  Volterra proudly claims to be Il Cuore di Toscana:  The heart of Tuscany.  It also apparently has some substantial connection to the Twilight books, as Ashley Pineda tells us.  Yes, Jen Costa, Edward was there.  And he fell in love with Shaffer.  Go cry about it.

We were staying in an Agriturismo just on the outskirts of Volterra.  Agriturismi are a sort of bed and breakfast which, according to Italian law, must earn more income from farming than they do from hotel activities.  We knew that ours was involved in the wine trade, but did not know much more.  It took a little while to find, and we once again made a wrong turn up to what we later discovered was a monastery.  When we nearly ran into another car, Shaffer was forced to back down the steep, winding driveway into oncoming traffic; all the while muttering a few choice Italian words that they don't teach you at the university.  Finally, we reached the Agriturismo Podere Marcampo.  I'll speak more about it in the next post, but as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.  I think this one might be worth a bit more.

Our Agriturismo!

Up next:  Vampires, sun, alabaster, ancient archways, cats in a pot, Nazis, torture and three bottles of wine in one day. And, FINALLY, fresh clothes!  No internet access for three days- but then we will catch you up.

Arrividerci. 

Capri: The Emperor's Retreat

Our second day we awoke early to head to the island of Capri (pronounced KAH-pree according to my know-it-all sister Sally.  Turns out she was right.  You win this round Sally.  Love you so much Sally, thanks for the heads up).  Sorrento is split in the middle by a gorge, with beautiful, fort l ike hotels and residence built into the cliff face.  We walked down a winding, cobblestone path to the Marina Grande:  The harbor.  There we bought a ticket for the ferry to Capri.  There were also options to Capri via jet boat or private boat, but the ferry was most affordable, and therefore best.  So said Shaffer.  So let it be done.

Sorrento Marina

Capri Marina

The ferry was enjoyable.  We stood outside and took in lovely views of Sorrento and the first part of the Amalfi coast.  The water was brilliantly blue, and the coast dotted with charming towns tucked into the cliffside.  It was a magical 45 minute trip.  We entered Capri via the Marina Grande (aren't Italians original?).  There are several ways to get to Capri Centrale:  inter alia a bus, or a funiculare:  A cable car that transports you up the cliff to the town, located high above.  But of course, we saw the narrow alleyway, with stairs and a sign claiming that Capri Centrale was a mere 750 meters away.  So we walked.  And we sweat in our already 3 day old clothes.  And we very nearly died. 

Italian trail of tears

But we reached Capri Centrale eventually, and hurried over to buy an overpriced Lemon slushee.  We ordered the extra large size.  The slushee cart was right beside the exit to the funiculare where people from the ferry were just exiting.  People from the ferry that came 20 minutes after ours, that is.  We did not spend much time in Capri Centrale, opting instead to catch the bus to Anacapri, thanks to the sensible advice of one Sophie Kamesar.  Who better be reading this.  Or we are dunzo Sophie.  Dunzo.

Shaffer's over-priced slurpee; extra-large.

And what a bus ride it was!  Up the side of a mountain on an old, one lane road.  Breathtaking vistas spoiled only by the very real possibility that you might be the last thing that we ever saw.  The size of the bus made us confident that we would be fine in the event of a collision with a vespa or fiat.  The size also made us confident that our fall into the sea would be quick, and our splashdown violent.  The bigger they come...

Thankfully, with the help of a skilled driver, we reached Anacapri.  The island of Capri was a favorite retreat for Roman Emperors of yore, and you could see why.  The island has only one harbor, the Marina Grande, and the rest of it is protected by sheer cliffs, making it easy to defend.  Time seems to move slower there, with friendly people, small, lazy shops, and a quiet pleasantness in the air.  Our first stop was the Seggovia, a chairlift running from Anacapri to Monte Salaro, a 1,900 foot summit.  Initial fears that the ride might be overly exhilerating proved incorrect, as the ride was a slow, scenic trip with breathtaking views of Anacapri, Capri Centrale, and the Mediterranean Sea.

American doing his best to look awkward.

We paused on top to take photographs of both the sea and the island.  There was not much up top, but there was plenty to see.  We met honeymooners from Seattle.  While glad to meet fellow Northwesterners, they were a bit standoffish.  Also, they seemed to be quarreling a bit ("No, stand this way!  With your back to me!  No, your other back!  Gosh!!!")  We give them about six months.  But her ring was huge, which makes me think that he is very wealthy.  So we give them however long it takes to maximize alimony.  Guess its just the lawyer in Shaffer.

View from on top

Our favorite tree on the island of Capri. :)

After a pleasant ride back down, we had our first Italian pizza on a charming terrace overlooking downtown Anacapri.  Pizza in Italy is, as you might imagine, quite different from American pizza:  The crust is quite thin, and you almost had to eat it with a knife and fork.  We had Pizza Margherita:  Pizza with tomato, mozzarella and basil.  We devoured it.  Seriously.  That poor pizza had no chance.  It was fantastic. 

PIZZA!!!!

No more pizza. :(

Afterward, we caught the bus back down to Capri Centrale, and walked the steep but scenic route back to the harbor.  There is more that we would have liked to see:  The Blue Grotto, Villa Jovis, Il Faro (the lighthouse) and others, but all were fairly expensive.  This time around, we are trying mainly to just soak up the Italian culture, which we were doing.  We will be back, and then we will hit the things that we missed.  Capri was, overall, a fantastic get away.

We had thought about taking a bus down the scenic Amalfi coast, but scrapped that idea.  Again, cost and time were issues, and we wanted to explore more of Sorrento.  We were taking siestas regularly during the day:  Part of this was due to some jet-lag, but we had also been in the same clothes, in 90 degree weather for four days.  When the locals started giving us strange looks and wrinkling their noses, we decided it was time to head for the hotel, the shower, and a brief lie-down.

Stinky Americans having a great time.

We spent our last day exploring Sorrento, and peeking in the various churches, restaurants, lemon gardens and shops.  Amy got a lovely new dress, with all of the colors of southern Italy.  Our camera battery was dead, and would not charge, and we thought we might have to buy a new one.  As one had been stolen, this would have been the third camera we had bought in anticipation of this trip.  Thankfully, helpful clerks at the fotocentre were able to supply us with a cheap, and effective, external charger.  Saving us some money, and getting us right back into taking pictures.

Our final day we enjoyed two meals.  First, lunch at The English Inn.  Sorrento is a tourist town, where many different people go on holiday:  While there we met other Italian tourists, Americans, Germans, Dutch, French, Canadians, and Irish, to name a few.  Many of the restaurants, like this one, cater specifically to tourists.  While locals are, for the most part, very friendly, some seem a bit jaded.  Our waiter at The English Inn, greeted us by saying:  "Oh great, Americans.  I loooove Americans.  Americans are the best."  We decided on another Pizza Margherita.  I tried to order in Italian.  Our waiter stopped us and said:  "No, no, no.  You have to decide.  You talk in Italian, or you talk in English.  Which is it?"  Hunger makes cowards of us all.  I chose English.  Amy had a glass of wine, and Shaffer ordered a Cuba Libre:  A mixed drink with Coca Cola, Rum and Lime juice.  Our waiter just laughed:  "Si, si.  Cuba Libre.  American Libre."  Cheeky bastard.  (To Tim Costa:  Shaffer is well aware that you will think less of him for drinking a "fruity drink" instead of our traditional bourbon.  It was 95 degrees outside.  Deal with it.)

We had dinner at Il Buffalito, a ristorante advertizing its famed Water Buffalo Cheese.  We skipped that.  Amy had Gnocchi once again, and Shaffer had a pasta dish with spaghetti-like noodles and claims, cooked in white wine sauce with garlic and parsley.  For dessert, we had possibly the best tiramisu in the world.  Nay, the galaxy.

Mmmmm.....

This is not Tiramisu....this is heaven.

Next time:  Driving in Italy, the Tuscan countryside, wrong turns, Twi-hards, Meat Loaf, and a little slice of heaven:  Volterra

Arrividerci

Argh Matey, thar be Sirens!!! AKA Sorrento

Owing to Jet-lag, we awoke at 5:00 AM in Rome, feeling rather rested.  After a quick shower (which was a bit too small for Shaffer), we caught the shuttle back to the airport.  We needed to get to Sorrento by that afternoon to check into our hotel.  Sorrento is a small-ish Coastal town, a bit south of Naples.  We had purchased tickets to Sorrento from Rome in our post-plane, post-baggage-loss, post-theft, hunger induced delirium.  As you might imagine, mistakes were made.  Turns out we bought tickets for the 24th of June.  That's all well and good.  Only we were traveling on the 23rd.  If anyone out there wants to buy tickets to Sorrento for the 24th of June, please e-mail us.  We'll give you a great deal.  

From the airport, you take a train to Roma Termini:  Rome's central trail station.  The train was relatively slow, and moved through a fairly industrial part of Rome.  We still feel as if we have yet to really enjoy the Roman experience (we will be there again at the end of our trip).  At the Termini station, we attempted to exchange our tickets.  However, the biglietteria (ticket counter) was closed, and would not open before our train left.  We decided to just buy another set of tickets to Naples, using a self-service machine that we found after a bit of aimless wandering (and a bit of a pout for Shaffer).  Luckily we were able to get them for fairly cheap.  While waiting, we bought breakfast at a local bar.  In Italy, a bar is just a snack shop.  We bought due panini:  Two sandwiches.  Shaffer had a panino crudo:  Cold prosciuto and bread.  Prosciuto is a thinly sliced, salted ham, not unlike bacon.  Amy had a sandwich called "The VIP" which consisted of Prosciuto, Mozzarella cheese and basil.  Both were delicious and did much to ameliorate what had otherwise been a bit of a frustrating morning. 

The train wound through rural Italy, and we enjoyed looking at the passing ruins, sunflower fields, and occasional towns.  Already we noticed differences between Italy and America.  Italians seem to have a much smaller personal space "bubble."  The elderly Italian gentlemen sitting across from us would interlace his legs with Amy's, so that they both could stretch their legs out all the way.  In retrospect, maybe he just recognized a cute tourist girl and figured he could get away with playing footsie.  As we spoke English, we noticed how harsh its staccato must seem in contrast to fluid, beautiful Italian.  (As an aside, the word staccato so wonderfully represents its meaning, no?  If somebody didn't know what Staccato meant (looking at you Whitney Davis), I might use the word Staccato itself as an example).

We arrived in Naples after about two hours, with little idea what to do.  We had originally bought a ticket on the ferry from Naples to Sorrento.  However, that ticket was for the next day, and we were not certain that the schedule would remain the same.  So we decided to buy a ticket on the Circumvesuviana, a regional train that operates between Naples and Sorrento with multiple stops.  It also had the benefit of being very affordable, which sufficiently piqued Shaffer's interest.  As we bought our tickets, we noticed a small sign informing us that there was the possibility of strikes that day.  Luckily that fate did not befall us, and we had a very pleasant, albeit cramped ride down the Italian coast.  Unfortunately, we met people in Sorrento several days later who had boarded the train after us, and had been kicked off halfway (near Pompeii) when the strike materialized.

Bright, beautiful Sorrento

We arrived in Sorrento around 2.  Sorrento is a coastal town, and is very long and narrow.  Only three or four streets comprise the entire town, but they stretch on for miles.  The name Sorrento is derived from "Siren," the beautiful, mythical women in the Greek myth "The Odyssey" who lured sailors to their deaths.  References to the Odyssey abound:  Our hotel was named the "Ulisse Deluxe Hostel."  Ulysses is the Greek name for Odysseus, protagonist of the Odyssey.  The town itself is very nice, and colorful.  Bright pastels adorn both shops and residences in the town, and the local churches are adorned with beautiful frescoes.  The main thoroughfare, Corso Italia, is lively:  By day it is consumed with the roar of Vespas; by night it is closed off by police and residents and tourists alike farano un passagiata:  Take a walk. 

Shaffer in front of our hotel.  In his usual attire.

Vespas.  Somehow chicks still dig them.

Upon arrival, we checked into our hotel, and were greeted by Chiara, a very nice and helpful receptionist who always seemed to be working.  She expressed much sympathy that our bags had been lost, but sadly informed us that they had not yet arrived.  She hoped that they would the next day.  They did not.  In fact, our bags never got to experience Sorrento.  We took a quick nap, then we hit the town, exploring churches, looking in shops, and finally enjoying our first Italian meal. 

Wine makes everything better!

It was a  very cute ristorante that overlooked a piazza just off of Corso Italia.  We ordered due bicchierre dei vini rossi della casa:  Red wine.  Our waiter brought the wine, as well as a lovely appetizer:  foccaccia drizzled with olive oil, fresh tomatoes and basil.  Amy ordered Gnocchi:  A potato pasta like a dumpling, with tomatoes, and basil.  Shaffer had Spaghetti Carbonara:  Spaghetti with cream, egg and bacon.  Both meals were delicious, but a bit heavy.

Gnocchi!!! It means knuckle in Italian.  You all better watch your knuckles when we get home!

Sorrento, and indeed southern Italy in general, is known for producing lemons, and other citrus products.  Indeed, some of the lemons in Sorrento were as big as footballs (or as Sophie Kamesar might say, "footfalls").  On the way back from dinner, we sampled several merchants' Limoncello:  A lemon liqueur.  The taste varied dramatically.  Some was quite sweet, while others were tart.  Some tasted like lemon meringue; others like Pine Sol.  When Shaffer sees something he likes, he always ends up insisting that we buy some.  Because he is very cheap, we bought the Pine Sol.

Lemons as big as footballs.  We thought we saw Darron Thomas carrying one.  But it turns out he gave it to LaMichael who was already in the end zone.  FOGHORN.

It was a long and busy day, but a lot of fun.  The sting of our lost luggage and camera were beginning to numb, and we had full stomachs to console us.  Our room in Sorrento was air conditioned and quite comfortable, and we began to plan our activities for Sorrento. 

Standing on the cobblestone road leading to the port.

Up next:  The island of Capri, chairlifts, honeymooners, Margherita Pizza, and stinky clothes.

Arrividerci. 

Ciao da Italia!

Buongiorno!

We made it!  Amy and I, after a 24 hour travel experience, as well as some other shenanigans, finally made it to Italy!  Our journey began in Portland, where we caught a short flight to San Francisco.  After a lengthy layover in the international lounge (where the Sushi Bar was out of Sushi), we toasted the states goodbye with our last taste of Americana:  A Dos Equis Lager; particularly apropos I think, for the most interesting people in the world.

Swiss efficiency meets San Franciscan Psycadellicism.  Trippy.

Next up, a 12 hour flight to Zurich, Switzerland.  We boarded the plane at 7:00 Pacific Standard, so we were already getting a bit sleepy.   We flew on Swiss, and were treated very well:  We were given multiple snacks, complimentary wine, very tasty and satisfying meals, and even Swiss chocolate.  The quarters were a bit cramped, but we were even able to sleep for 3 or 4 hours.  When we awoke we were near Zurich, and were given a hot towel.  In Zurich, our flight to Rome was delayed for nearly an hour due to lightning.  We were not much inconvenienced, however, as we used the time to plan our first few days in Italy.  Soon the storm cleared, and we were able to take off.  The flight lasted just over an hour, and then we landed in the eternal city.

We would not see our bags for another 5 days.  Consequently, you WILL see us in these clothes extensively.

Sadly, this is where the story turns just the slightest bit sour.  You see, we had packed our bags as carry ons.  However, in Portland we were told that because the flight was so full, we would be required to check our bags.  This was done at no cost or inconvenience to us, and so we did it gladly.  However, upon arrival in Rome, we discovered that our bags had not made the trip.  Where exactly they were was anybody's guess.  The one thing that we did know, is that they were not with us.  The customer service representative (who was very sympathetic and helpful) told us that it was unlikely that our bags would get to us by the next morning, and thus likely would have to catch up to us in Sarrento, our next destination.  We tried to make light of the difficulty, posing for pictures near the empty baggage claim.  I would share those pictures with you, but sadly our camera was stolen shortly thereafter.  We believe the theft occurred in the airport shop while we were looking for a map. 

We had reserved a hotel in Fiumincino, an outskirt of Rome that is fairly near the airport.  After being fairly confused by the system for finding a taxi, we just ended up talking to a driver who approached us outside the airport, and charged 30 euro for the service.  He then took us to his own "private taxi" which was in fact his personal car.  After realizing that we might well be robbed or murdered in his back seat, we resigned ourselves to whatever fate might be in store, and hoped for the best.  A short, but exhilerating ride ensued, and to his credit the driver was very skilled.  He did not, despite his claims otherwise, have any idea where our hotel was.  He found it eventually.  The cab ride ended up costing more than expected, but we were so relieved to have arrived that we did not much care.  We enjoyed a modest, but very nice hotel in Fiumincino.  Because we arrived so late, nearly everything was closed.  Thus we enjoyed our first night in Italy with a gourmet meal consisting of fruit snacks. 

Our balcony at La Maison Jolie in Rome.  Still in the same clothes.

Up next, a train ride to Sorrento, a boat ride to Capri, Limoncello, 5 day old socks, and most importantly:  Pictures!! 

Arrivederci!