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.
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| 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.
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| Shaffer in front of our hotel. In his usual attire. |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Standing on the cobblestone road leading to the port. |
Up next: The island of Capri, chairlifts, honeymooners, Margherita Pizza, and stinky clothes.
Arrividerci.
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