Today is the day that all the cruise ships came to Sorrento. Three massive, huge, gigantic, big liners were parked just off the Marina Piccola, disgorging passengers like cattle onto small ship-to-shore boats. From these little boats come forth guides holding aloft circular signs with numbers printed on them. Today they were everywhere. It looked awful.

For us, today was a Sorrento day. We slept in (after a lovely long night resting footsore feet) and had a leisurely breakfast before I left Mirinda to visit two more churches. I’m having withdrawals from the last couple of days without one.

First on my list was the lovely Church Santa Maria del Carmine. It’s a very spiritual place, rebuilt in the 15th century by the Carmelite nuns and sits in one corner of the Piazza Tasso. There’s a fantastic painted ceiling, like most Italian churches. The main doors effectively cut off the outside world. Quite a few people were kneeling in prayer so I sat and joined them before wandering round in my clumsy tourist way.

Santa Maria del Carmine

From St Marys’ I wandered down to St Antonino’s Basilca with a slight detour to get Mirinda some throat lozenges, which turned out to be tablets. This place dates back to the 11th century and is undergoing some major restoration. Half of the church is covered with foggy plastic as machines whirr and dust flies everywhere. It tends to remove a lot of the appeal though, of course, it’s necessary. No such distraction in the crypt though.

Unlike most crypts, this one is beneath the main body of the church but with an outlook over the back garden as the basilica is built on a bit of a hill. In the centre of the crypt is St Antonino’s tomb, which he stands over. The room is designed around the tomb and as you wander around, large display cases on the walls show tin medals of various body parts, presumably some sort of pilgrim’s badge offered for a cure to the relevant part of the pilgrim. There’s lots of them!

St Antonino's crypt

On the wall outside the church there’s a poster in Italian offering tours of Our Lady of Lourdes and a statue just inside the main door appears to be her so maybe it’s part of the same thing. Perhaps they had a thing; Antonino & Mary Lourdes. Who knows.

I gradually made my way back to the hotel and, after collecting Mirinda we set out for the Piazza Angelina Lauro and the Museo Correale.

This piazza is where the original central meeting place for Sorrento stood before being supplanted by the Piazza Tasso in the 19th century. It’s all been rebuilt quite recently and, according to the Lonely Planet guide, is now the haunt of the young Sorrentines. The prices of the eateries are a vast improvement and we decided it was where we would be eating lunch today!

Just along from the piazza is the lemon grove I visited earlier in the week, which Mirinda was dying to visit. It was lovely strolling between the citrus trees avoiding the fruit on the ground (signs warn you not to touch the fruit) and it all smelled of lemons. Lovely. The fact that the noise from the road recedes as you wander is a major bonus.

Leaving the grove, it’s just a short hop across the road to the Museo Correale. Apparently this is one of the finest provincial museums in Italy. I have to say it’s pretty good although the Lonely Planet guide doesn’t sound that impressed.

The museum was originally the home of Alfredo & Pompeo Correale, very wealthy brothers who lived there in the late 1800s. In the first room is their family tree. It dates back (in two parts) to around the year 1000! How amazing is that. Also in this first room is the death mask of Torquato Tasso – quite eerie – sitting in a glass box. The statue in the piazza seems a bit romanticized in comparison.

The museum is in the house so the rooms meander in two sections. In the back of the first section is the good stuff! Lots of Greek and Roman artefacts – it’s amazing how such great civilisations managed with so many limbless people.

'Armless

There is also a cabinet full of artefacts taken from Sorrentine necropolises dating from 3000 BC – a fragment of pottery and a copper dagger – and including objects from Greek, Attic and Roman graves.

Across the passage is the main part of the museum, which rises through the centaurs family by three floors of paintings, porcelain and wonderful inlaid furniture. Mirinda was in raptures. There were no St Sebastians but I did find a wonderful painting called The Centaurs Family by Ignoto Fiammingo in the 17th century. A very odd picture – the daddy centaur appears to be bringing his wife and child a wombat for dinner.

Centaur family

The views from the balconies as you climb higher get bigger and better as you rise above the trees and the Bay of Naples is laid out before you. That’s where we spotted the three liners. The water looks fantastic and Vesuvius is probably the clearest it’s been so far but even so, there’s still a pall of pollution over everything. Maybe our eyes are just getting used to it.

As you leave the museum there’s a garden out the back with a funny English sign – we didn’t find it in the least uncomfortable and in fact walked all the way down to the balcony at the end and looked over the Bay. The day was beautiful and our hearts went out to those poor sardine tourists being poured from the ships to the crowded shore.

Soon afterwards we sat at the Ristorante Bar Angelina Lauro having a massive proscuitto and mozzarella panini each and drinking a beer. We then had a massive ice cream each before walking back to the Piazza Tasso. Actually the guy who ran the restaurant invited us back for an evening meal, as they would be preparing some very special Sorrentine fish. Nice people and a restaurant that Italian’s frequent.

Gary’s Post Office Adventure or Futility Abounds
The post office is very weird in Sorrento. You pass through an odd airlock thing with two automatic doors. When you finally get into the PO itself you have to take a ticket from a machine, which has a number and a letter on it. One of the tickets is for postage and the other is for something else. You take a ticket and watch the numbers appearing on a big screen with a desk number.

Nothing seems to make any sense. Obviously everything is in Italian but a lot of knowledge is assumed. There’s also no-one to ask. There was about 20 people in the post office bustling around from desk to desk but no-one appeared to be buying stamps. Eventually I gave up after waiting for about ten minutes. When people get postcards stamped from the UK, this is why. Upon returning to the UK, Karen told me that she sent me a postcard from Italy 6 years ago which I’ve still yet to receive…

Anyway, back on the tourist rail…When we made it to Piazza Tasso it was just in time for the Sorrentine version of Le Petit Train (Lilliput Train).

petit train

So we paid our euros and jumped aboard for a trip around the town we already know so well. Actually we know it a lot better than the girl on the tape we listened to as the train went around the streets and down narrow alleys. Funniest thing was the Australian’s sitting behind us. Talk about innocents abroad. The wife sounded JUST like Kath Day-Knight and the husband kept getting annoyed with her. I think they came from Melbourne…that’s probably because I come from Sydney.

After the train it was back to our room as Sorrento closes for siesta. Mirinda took to the bed as I took to my rooftop chair as usual. Until the laptop battery ran out anyway.

A bunch of really annoying Americans invaded my rooftop spot this afternoon. They bought their own food and wine and one guy kept telling each new arrival that he bought it all in Rome yesterday and wrapped it with a cool brick. They are from ALL over the US – one couple even from Naples, Florida! One older woman asked me if I loved my computer. What the hell does that mean? I pretended I only spoke Italian.

A little later I overheard all about one woman’s divorce and her daughter Taylor’s non-relationship with her biological father. Actually I think most of Sorrento probably heard it. It all sounded like a particularly bad US sitcom.

After Mirinda’s siesta we headed down to St Antonino’s Basilica Pizzaria for dinner. Then it was time for the most exciting treat of the whole holiday. Forget Pompeii, forget Capri, forget even Amalfi. This was Torno a Sorrento – Musical.

Talk about funny. For ALL the wrong reasons. Imagine a reasonably good high school musical and you’ve about imagined it. The show is supposed to take lots of traditional Italian songs and weave them into a story, which a primarily non-Italian audience couldn’t possibly hope to understand. It was all this and so much more.

The serious girl with short hair who looked angry when anyone put a foot wrong. The girl who kept forgetting to smile then suddenly her face would light up for a few minutes before once more lapsing. The couple who had only miserable songs and seemed to have been cast because of their excellent moping abilities. The goofy guy who was a bit annoying. And the list goes on and on. It was so bad they had to get the audience clapping every ten minutes to stop them falling asleep.

I know it sounds dire (and it was) but we really enjoyed it on some odd level. Possibly because we were laughing AT them not WITH them. One of the funniest moments came from the audience – some chap behind us video-ed the entire thing. Like when is he going to watch it? And having already sat through it, WHY? Not to the mention the dozens of people taking flash photos. Oh the humanity!

There followed a side-splitting walk home to the final strains of Funiculi Funicula.

In the year 62 AD Pompeii was devastated by a massive earthquake. A lot of the city was badly damaged but as soon as people figured that further quakes were not coming, reconstruction started. This brought a new wave of prosperity to Pompeii. But, alas, the gods have such awful games with us poor humans and in 79 AD Vesuvius erupted and completely covered the place in dust and ashes. Of the population of 20,000, 2,000 were killed, a lot of them instantly, as casts of their bodies show – one of the saddest is the mule driver, sitting huddled by his mules.

Mule driver

No-one is really sure how old Pompeii was – estimates have it dating to the 7th century BC and founded by the Campanian Oscans. It then fell to the Greeks and someone called the Samnites before the Romans took it in 80 BC. All of this history is on the site. It is a city in stasis. It is a truly amazing (and very popular) place.

We decided, for our assault on such a popular spot, we would leave to catch the 7:55 train which would get us to the gate as it opened at 8:30. This meant no breakfast or coffee just a quick brush of the teeth and out. It was tough but we did it.

At first the train (it starts at Sorrento) was packed with noisy school kids but, fortunately, they were destined for school and left the train after a few stops. When we arrived at Pompeii station only a few people left with us. Fortunately the station has (like most Italian stations) a little coffee bar where we stopped long enough for a latte and a pastry before hitting the ticket gate.

The crowds were already starting to amass behind leaders carrying all manner of long thin implements. We were instantly accosted by local guides offering their services for €10 each person. But I was prepared. I had my 1979 New Practical Guide to Pompeii by Eugenio Pucci and Mirinda hired an audio guide – we had all the guidance we needed.

Actually before describing this amazing city, I just have to say how this place is so NOT a rip off. As you enter there’s a guy selling fruit and cold water. He could charge anything but, no, he charges a reasonable amount (€1 for a bottle of water). The entrance fee for Pompeii itself is only €10. The audio guide? €6.50. I guess it’s because people will come back if they can afford it. There is far more than you can see in one day no matter how keen you are. Just don’t hire the local guides! They make up most of what they tell you and are not authorised.

So we bought our tickets and entered.

A street in Pompeii

You walk up to the main gate into the city along the big cobbled stones and suddenly you are there. It is incredible. Obviously the place is a ruin but it looks so incredibly real. If a citizen of Pompeii was whisked to the future the day before the eruption, he’d recognise it. It’s frozen in time from 79 AD. There’s a lot of things gone, obviously, like most of the wall decorations, a lot of the marble and fascia work and the rooftops but it all looks so perfect.

The roads are amazing. Great big cobbles with wagon ruts, raised footpaths on each side and, at regular intervals, big stones placed so pedestrians could move across the road without stepping down onto the road. These big stones have gaps between them to allow the wheels of the carriages to pass. Apparently the animals they used to pull the carts would walk between them as well – I’m not sure how! The Romans used a simple yolk which made this possible or so I’ve read. There is a definite difference between main and minor roads as you move away from the centre so I’m figuring they mostly stuck to the main ones.

I’m not going to write about every bit of Pompeii we saw (we were there four hours) but just a few snippets for fear of boring all! So…

The Basilica: This was the most important building in all of Pompeii (and most Roman towns). Law was dispensed from here as well as business meetings of the powerful and successful. It is a massive building with very impressive columns. Mirinda felt she should pose for a photo being as she’s a lawyer and all. The building has been dated to 120 BC, so pre-Roman.

Mirinda at the basilica

The Forum: This is where everything happened. It’s the centre of the city, the heart of life. It was surrounded by arcades and columns line each side. Large pedestals remain where statues of Caesar and his family as well as leading business people would have stood. People would have met here to chat; country dwellers would have met city people to discuss life. People probably sat around and played dice. At the back, the Forum is overlooked by the massive Temple to Jupiter.

The Sanctuary of the Lares: This is really a big open space. I include it for the inherent irony. After the earthquake of 62 AD, this was built to please the protective gods and, hopefully safeguard the rest of the city. D’Oh!

Macellum: This was a big covered market where meat and fish were sold. One of the walls still bears a massive fresco (of the 4th style). In the centre there was a big circular building used, we think, for the gutting and preparing of fish. It would have contained a big water tank. The guts would have been slushed down the drains, which line the centre of the building. We have seen this sort of thing in many medieval towns in both England and France – though not always for fish. It was here that Mirinda made a couple of new friends.

Mirinda & a feral friend

Pompeii is home to many vagrant, feral dogs. They’re not horrid growly type dogs, they just hang around in the shade. Except when someone like Mirinda makes a fuss of one and strokes it. Naturally as we sat in the banquet area of the market two of these canines sat and rested with us. One of them was of quite odd parentage.

House of the Faun: This is where we want to live. It’s brilliant. After the entrance there’s a thing called an impluvium. It is a marble tiled area, slightly depressed, to catch rain water from a hole in the ceiling. In the centre of this impluvium, there stands a small faun. This is a copy of the original brass faun which is in the Archaeological Museum in Naples. Actually a lot of the original objects have been moved to Naples. Mosaics and statues mostly. Anyway, back to the house.

After the impluvium (which would be a sort of entrance hall) there’s a mosaic of great heroic detail in a small open room. Around the sides are the bedrooms. Further back is the garden, enclosed by the house walls. The Romans were a very introverted race. When inside they saw no reason to look outside. So, instead of windows they had gardens inside. And big holes in the roof for their impluviums.

The Large and Little Theatres: These are quite amazing. The large theatre has a capacity of 5,000 and is of primarily Greek design though the Romans developed it further. It was open to the air and the acoustics are still incredible. Sitting in the top row I could clearly hear a tour guide talking in the middle of the arena to a small group. On the other hand, the small theatre seats only 1,000 people and was originally roofed. It would have been used for poetry readings and the like while big farces would have been mounted in the large theatre. Naturally we both loved these!

Little Theatre

However, of all of this, the most amazing thing we saw was a Japanese woman dressed in a magazine. Someone had cut up a celeb glossy and fashioned the pages into a 50′s type dress with a jaunty hat to go with it. It was all held together with industrial strength sticky tape. This woman wandered around behind a large Japanese group and a couple of guys with her would photograph her at various spots. I’m sure there was a very good reason for it but I like to think she just lost a bet.

Oh, and Mirinda found a garden centre! Right in the middle of Pompeii. In the only spot of major greenery is a little table which sells oils from various plants, like rosemary and so forth. It was a welcome relief strolling amidst the trees and foliage and, of course, Mirinda was in heaven. Fortunately she resisted the urge to buy the massive pots.

Pompeii garden centre

So that was Pompeii. I cannot believe this is not a World Heritage Site but according to the Lonely Planet Guide it is not. One thing it is, is still being dug by archaeologists! I texted Dawn to say we have to get in on this!!

Enough bouquets, I do have one little brickbat. When you leave the site, it isn’t by the same gate you entered and suddenly you find yourself completely confused. You have to return to the main gate in order to return your audio guide but there are no signs. Fortunately we were helped by a man sitting by a parking sign. And I should add, it was mostly our own fault as there IS a sign at one point that leads you back in the direction of the main gate but like sheep we followed the mob the wrong way! we found this out the next time we visited.

The train back to Sorrento was very crowded. It is a regular service from Naples. Still, Mirinda managed to get a seat and after two stops I did too. The highlight was the appearance of a little girl of about 7 playing Torno a Surriento on a small piano accordion with half a water bottle taped to the side for the English people to put small change in. She wasn’t very good and the train was so crowded that she soon gave up and just chatted in the vestibule with her mother (I assume) until the next stop where they left our carriage. Presumably for pastures new. At least it’s better than the ugly hags on the London Tube who thrust their equally ugly babies into your face.

Train at Pompeii station

Back in Sorrento (which is rapidly becoming ‘home’) we popped into the café on Piazza Tasso for a pizza lunch and a little bit of tourist watching before returning to our room.

Mirinda had a sleep while I visited the rooftop to type up the day. But not just any day. The most fantastic day.

The Island of Capri (pronounced Car-pri so the first vowel is long and not the way we foreigners normally say it Cap-ri) was once part of the Amalfi peninsular but a dirty great earthquake a very long time ago, shifted it big time! Now it’s a haven for those that prey on tourists. If I have one piece of advice for anyone wishing to visit Capri it would be “Take a packed lunch and a big bottle of water.” Not a good day today. In fact, it’s my firm belief that the real problem with Capri is that the ‘r’ is in the wrong place.

First of all the ticket office at the Piccolo Marina has some explaining to do. We were going by a timetable printed in a magazine, which is current and up to date. Unfortunately it does not take into account the fact that each window of the ticket office is for a different company and, in fact, a different time. It’s incredibly confusing. But not only that there was a massive queue lined up for the ferry we had decided to catch! Mirinda immediately decided we would be better off having a coffee at the nearest café…which we did…and watch the crazy English school kids frazzle as they waited in the sun.

Ferry crowd

Eventually I worked out how the entire thing worked and went to buy tickets for the next ferry at 11:45. This worked much better – no big queue and a fairly comfortable trip over to the island.

Now here’s the rub. Gary ran out of cash, didn’t he. A big no-no around these parts as most people do not take credit cards, especially people who sell ferry and boat tickets. This meant that as soon as we landed Gary had to find an ATM. Unusually for a male, Gary decided to ask someone. I approached a policeman and asked “Excuse me, officer, could you direct me to the closest ATM” in my best Italian which would more accurately translate to “ATM where, please?” This lovely, kind officer and upholder of social rules, told me it was “Centro” and pointed up a flight of stairs.

Now there’s an old Roman joke that when Tiberius first came to Capri, he asked a shepherd where the nearest ATM was and he was directed to the furthest point of the island where he stood and thought “What a jolly jape! I must reward those cheeky shepherds.” He turned around, marched back down and threw them all off the edge of the island. This is obviously the reason the nice policeman sent me 2.5 kilometres, up hill, out of my way and in the blazing sun, when there was a perfectly good ATM behind him!

Not enough that I climbed all the way up to Old Capri but to add insult to injury, the ATM was not working!! And then I managed to get lost. I have to say it’s a scary labyrinth up there. Millions of people, lots of very expensive shops, no signs except for those that want your business, no-one to ask as everyone around you is a tourist and probably just as lost as you are. I started freaking out by the time I’d returned to the central piazza for the 6th time.

Old Capri shops

Mirinda, meanwhile had no idea where I was or what had become of me. She texted me and generally became cross. She also found the very close ATM and was prepared to return to Sorrento (just had to get the song title in somewhere) if she didn’t hear from me soon!

Sometimes getting lost has its advantages. It meant I found two more ATMs, both of which were working. I milked the suckers dry! Maybe that is what happened to the first one. Some poor, lost, tired and almost broken tourist, feverishly fed in his card and emptied the machine of every euro it had!

I also, eventually, found the path back to the marina and managed to track down Mirinda who had purchased the wrong ticket to the Blue Grotto. I exchange hers and bought one for myself. Our boat left at 3pm. I’ll not go into how cross she was and how much pain I was in.

As we had an hour to wait we decided to boost the Capri economy by having a light lunch and ice cream. What a total rip-off! I know the audience is captive but hey, how about some realism? And they do it with such false smiles. I really dislike this ‘bleed ‘em dry’ mentality. Before the second world war, Capri was a haven of poverty but then tourism came. I guess they figure they need to get as much as they can as quick as they can because they have no other industry. In fact, you’ve gotta wonder why they exist there at all.

Anyway…at 3pm we joined the wrong queue for a boat which turned out to be the 2:45pm boat. This is something else. You pay a lot for some pretty shoddy service. No signs, no proper information, timetables all shot to hell and yet they charge a motzah. If I pay a lot I don’t think it’s wrong to expect a lot in return. I’m going to stop raving for a little while because I’m just getting madder remembering it!

The boat finally arrived and we clambered aboard. First good thing to happen – the boat had only a few people on it as opposed to everything else being packed to the gunnels – though I didn’t actually see any gunnels to be honest. And now the nicest part of the day as we motored around the island, admiring the sheer cliffs and the various grottoes, being instructed in both Italian and English something that no-one could understand because the speakers were pretty bad and I think the guy had the mike too close to his mouth. But it didn’t matter. The boat ride was fantastic and highly recommended.

Just past the Faraglione de Mezzo

As we powered through the Faraglione de Mezzo subway, I kissed Mirinda three times, which apparently means you’ll be stuck together forever. I thought it was for good luck.

When you get to the blue grotto you have to leave your boat and clamber aboard a little row boat which takes you inside. When we arrived all the little row boats were full and there was a queue so our captain headed for home, saying (we thought) if you want to see the grotto, stay on board and he’d return. Of course, he wasn’t easy to understand so when we returned to the harbour, everyone except an American father and son team and us two stayed aboard – the rest left, missing out. So we then, straight away, headed back.

It was a hell of an experience. Something I’ll never forget. And something I recommend. Do the boat trip, do the grotto then go home. The little rowing boat is rowed by a crazy Italian who thinks he’s Caruso – this is normal, they all sing. The passengers must sit in the floor of the boat because the opening to the grotto is very small. But when you get in, the blue is just incredible. And the feeling of lots of little boats rowing around in a circle, looking at the blue is quite odd, particularly with the singing. You then get rowed back to your boat to be taken back to the dock. It is over so quickly and is a pretty odd thing to do but it’s truly an amazing experience.

Once ashore, Mirinda went to find a loo while I went to buy tickets back to Sorrento. Fortunately there was a boat in half an hour so we headed out to queue. And thank God we did. By the time the boat arrived the queue was stretched back miles.

Funny boat sign

As it was, a bunch of ‘ordinary people’ were allowed to push to the front of the queue by some odd Italian chap wearing a New Zealand water polo team shirt, who seemed to be in charge. This is just so wrong. It’s the tourists who bring the money in, pay the wages of these money hungry Italians and yet they rub salt deeply into our wounds by allowing the freeloaders onto the ferry first! The American chap in front of me was very upset as was I and, I think many, many others in the queue. But the Italians just laugh it off and smile as if to say “You idiots come here, what do you expect? Now pay me lots for very little.”

Still, we were near the front of the unfortunate tourists so we had a decent seat for the trip back. I snoozed for most of it having not had a coffee since about 10am – very unusual and somewhat scary. At Sorrento dock it was once more a case of standing on a crowded bus for half an hour before it decided to drive up to Piazza Tasso and deposit us as sweaty heaps ready for the walk back to our hotel.

What a poxy day. At least we managed to get back in time for a quick dip in the rooftop pool before it closed (it closes at 7pm! Can you believe it? It’s light until 9 and everything else is open). We then relaxed until it was time to go to dinner.

Whew. What a day. And I didn’t visit a single church!

I had intended to end the day with the sentence above but as a postscript I would just like to add that we had a lovely dinner at Café Latino, a cool and groovy little place down Corso Italia which Mirinda chose a few days ago. It (almost) made up for such a lousy day.

One of those burning questions that no-one is EVER going to be able to answer: Was Amalfi named after the nymph loved by Hercules and buried in the area or is it derived from the town of Melfi when people left there to go to Amalfi? I prefer the first option. Particularly with Sorrento being named for Sirens, it’s rather nice to stick with the mythical. Anyway, whatever the reason, Amalfi is one amazing place.

It sits perched on the edge of very sheer cliffs. I can just imagine the builder looking at the designer and saying “You want me to what, now?” Well, this was our destination today. Everything started well enough.

Mirinda assured me the ferry left at 11:25 so we slowly wandered down to Marino Piccolo to find that the ferry actually leaves at 13:25! We caught a bus back up the hill and decided to have a coffee at the café on Piazza Tasso in order to people watch. After a suitable refreshment, we headed for the newly non-existent museum in the Villa Fiorentina. According to our Guide to Sorrento, this museum houses many archaeological finds…actually it houses a gym and a desperate artist with his paintings who smiles expectantly when two more tourists come searching for the museum.

Disappointed but undaunted we left to find the Museo Bottega in Via Nicola. We found Via Nicola, we found a banner for the museum…we found a locked door with a sign next to it declaring it was open daily. We feared there was a plan against us and Mirinda’s solution was to wander down to the Foreigner’s Club and have a drink. I’m not averse to having a drink when things are looking a bit grim, so I agreed.

The Foreigner’s Club is an odd place. I’m sure Mirinda would want me to stress that the only reason she wanted to go was because they have an excellent terrace bar which looks over the Bay of Naples and, particularly Mt Vesuvius. Both of these are true. Except the seats by the wall were all full and Vesuvius was bathed in pollution. Still we had a drink then left. Actually I really disliked the place. And it was full of foreigners…

Slowly we made our way, once more, to the Marina Piccolo where I purchased return tickets to Amalfi (FINALLY). We were still half an hour early so we waited about half a mile away under the only shelter the port authority could obviously afford. It’s an odd thing. Thousands of people catch ferries from here to all manner of places and, apart from the fancy one for the Capri ferries, there are no shelters anywhere. Just concrete. And we all know how the sun feels on concrete.

Anyway, the ferry eventually arrived and started loading and we, at first, took seats outside except it quickly became very crowded with the option of being extremely uncomfortable so we moved inside where an awful lot of empty seats beckoned menacingly.

Actually the trip was fine. It would have been nice to be outside but it wasn’t possible and we had a nice (if somewhat water sploshed) view from the shaded windows. The trip took about an hour and a half and finally we pulled nose first into the Amalfi dock.

The first thing that strikes you about this place is the extraordinary cliffs, then the fact that some lunatic managed to graft a house onto one of them. And finally, not satisfied with this, a whole bunch of other crazy people followed suit! This place is a testament to man’s crazy ingenuity.

Amalfi cliff houses

Everything is up. We wandered towards the city centre, admiring the Duomo before wandering back to a restaurant that Mirinda fancied – risky I know but actually very nice. After dining on clam spaghetti (her) and lasagne (me) we headed back up to the town centre to climb the 62 steps to the cathedral. What an amazing looking place. It looks like Hansel & Gretal’s sweetie house but in Turkish.

The cathedral is dedicated to Saint Andrew, the same St Andrew who is patron saint of Scotland. The building was started in the 10th century but, unfortunately because of various problems including two tidal waves in 1013 and 1343, which also decimated the entire town, it has been pretty much rebuilt based on fragments that suggest its likely visage. Inside, the building is divided into four parts. The first is the Cloister of Paradise.

Cloister of Paradise

Don’t fret, I’m not going to rave on about this church as I have so many before but I do like the fact that the cloisters are called this. They are particularly peaceful – even when invaded by an Italian tour guide and crowd – and nice and light. There’s also two interesting sarcophagi from the 2nd century AD which once held Roman centurions. One of them has a bas relief of a wedding while the other is of a rape. It was difficult to tell which was which but even so…odd choices.

Two Roman centurions walk into Burius Romanus the Undertaker’s shop
Roman 1: I’d like something a little bit different when I go.
Roman 2: Yeah, me too.
Undertaker: We are doing a fine line in bas relief imagery. We can do any myth you like as long as it’s either The Rape of Proserpina or The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis.
Roman 1: Ooooo, I’ve always loved a wedding!
Roman 2: (after a short thought) I’ll take the rape.

Rape or marriage

After the Cloister it’s into the museum, which used to be the main part of the original cathedral. There’s lots of great church-like stuff that I could go on and on about here…but I promised, so…then there’s the crypt.

At the altar (why there’s an altar in the crypt, I have no idea) a statue of St Andrew stands guarding his earthly remains (his head and other bones). The guide goes into great details about it all but, unfortunately restoration work was going on so all we could see were his feet.

Altar

The thing is, apparently twice a year, manna flows forth from his tomb and some crazy people actually drink some of it. Gross! This has happened for 750 years. Oddly, Mirinda claims when she was in St Andrews, in Scotland, they claimed his bones were there as well. All a bit peculiar. Actually the crypt had the making of a truly eerie place except for the construction tape and scaffolding around virtually everything.

Lastly you enter the massive cathedral. A lovely bright, colourful, high ceiling-ed church. Fantastic. See? I’m being very restrained.

After church we wandered up the Amalfi High Street and then back down amid the hundreds of tourists (it was a Sunday after all) and insane drivers. It was hard to believe that this slightly over-sized alley-way, was actually a road. There is even a set of traffic lights – they start at the top of the road and end just before the square because the lane is so narrow. The lane is also full of people. Cars and scooters manage to somehow manoeuvre through the tourists with minimal tooting and no yelling and screaming.

We safely managed to make it back to the dock to wait for the ferry. We had a lovely ice cream while we waited. Have I mentioned that ice cream is a speciality of this region and that it’s seen as the highest insult if you don’t have some at least once a day. In order to cement Italian/Australian relations, I’m having at least three.

We joined the 800 other people for the trip back, firstly jostling for position in the quay-side queue then squashed and sweating in the back part of the 45 seater ferry. After about 15 minutes I checked the empty section upstairs. It was open. We quickly moved and the trip was actually quite pleasant after this!

It didn’t quite prepare us for the half hour wait on a tiny sweatbox of a bus at the other end. Crazy world. And, typically, Mirinda’s was the only seat on the bus that didn’t have a window that opened. But eventually we made it back to the hotel for a shower and change before going for dinner (with a Desperate Housewives episode thrown in).

Tonight it was the L’Abate Pizzeria in the Piazza Antonino. I had a fantastic wood fired pizza called a Pizza Melee. It was jam packed full of pizza goodness. And I was very soon jam packed with it as well. Mirinda had the seafood jobbie and said it was delicious as well, though personally I can’t see how a load of shellfish on a pizza can be anything except awful…

We made it back through the Sunday night crowds (clothing shops were still open at 9:30pm!) to the hotel and fell asleep, exhausted. A hot and full day.

I just feel I should comment on the sun protection of Soltan SPF 50+ lotion. It claims it works for 12 hours. Well, I’ve been rubbing it in once a day and have yet to get any sun. You can’t say better than that!

Breakfast at this hotel is rather interesting. You arrive at the restaurant and if there’s no waiter present you naturally head for a table. However this will get you moved because although the tables have numbers on them they do not relate to anything and the waiters have their own little system. So my best advice is to wait for them to seat you. This is always the furthest from the door – it’s an odd system – unless you’re with a big group when you are generally over by the window.

If you have paid for dinner as well as breakfast, your table is marked with a little bit of cardboard with your room number written on it. You are told “this is your table for breakfast and dinner tonight“. Unless, like me, you’ve sat yourself at someone else’s table and started breakfast before the waiter catches you so that when another couple arrives, he puts them at the next table and points at your table saying “and that is where you’ll have your dinner tonight.”

I had a small plate of scrambled eggs and some more of the weird little sausages with my gallon of coffee before going back to the room where Mirinda told me off for not waking her for breakfast. D’Oh!

So I went for another with her. This time I sat where I was told. I didn’t have a second breakfast but I did go another pot of coffee. Mirinda complained about the juice, the fruit and the eggs. She is obviously not well.

After breakfast we decided to go and take in Sorrento cathedral. Although the Lonely Planet Guide claims that the Corso Italia is pedestrianised from 10am to 1pm, we had to cling to the edges of the buildings along the thin strip of footpath as bikes and cars whizzed by. That’s actually a major exaggeration but the traffic is definitely allowed along it.

Originally built in the 11th century, the cathedral was completely rebuilt in the 15th and is rather nondescript from the outside. If anything it looks like a warehouse. The main entrance was shut so we went in by the side door. From this door there is inlaid wooden images everywhere. The 12 stations of the cross, and the extra ones I’ve never seen before, are all beautifully executed in inlaid wood as they circle the main walls of the church. Around the altar are a dozen saints likewise inlaid. Locally this is called intarsia, a craft which has been around only since the mid 19th century. There’s a lot of it in the town – some beautiful, some tacky, some just plain ugly.

The ceiling paintings in the cathedral are fantastic. They appear to be surrounded by some sort of patchwork material. They are by two painters. Malinconio is responsible for the nave (Sorrentine Martyrs & Four Patron Saints) while the transept was done by Giacomo del Po (Assumption, St Philip & St James). They are gorgeous. I took a photo by putting the camera on the floor and taking it over a second – it’s in the photo album.

In a small side room, which might have been a chapel but looked more like a forgotten store room stands the crucifixion which the Lonely Planet raves about. It has been moved from above the altar and a smaller, definitely inferior version, erected in its place. It’s quite gruesome but very well done. Actually, on reading a local book, I have found that there was another chapel with a crucifixion and this may have been the one mentioned in the Lonely Planet. It’s all a bit confusing when there’s more than one altar!

Crucifixion in Sorrento cathedral

I noticed a tiny plaque beside the door to the choir’s changing room. It is a depiction of a bare breasted siren and seems odd in a cathedral and somewhat pagan, to say the least. Perhaps it’s the Italian version of the Green Man. Whatever, it’s a very Roman thing and I love that!

Outside on the Corso Italia there was a procession of thousands of little kids dressed up in various odd ways, each group led by banner holding adults. It all seemed rather odd and there was nothing for us to work out what was happening. It looked like a primary school dress up parade except with about 100 primary schools and through the main street rather than in the playground. Odd but the kids seemed to be having fun. Once the parade had passed us by we went in search of coffee.

We eventually settled (actually Mirinda attempted to take us into two not so promising cafes before I settled on the one that the Italians preferred) on one and sat outside enjoying the parents hauling their made up kids back to where ever they came from. After our caffeine fix we walked down to look over the sea and use the queuing toilet then made our way down to the Marina Piccola; the quay.

We checked out the ferry times and places – there was a possible trip to the Amalfi Coast leaving in an hour and a half – then settled at a lovely pizzeria for lunch. I had a fantastic pizza Vesuvius which you’d expect to be hot. It did have an egg in the middle, which was my main reason for ordering it. Mirinda had a Hawaiian, which the waiter thought was oddly amusing…and confusing. He did say later that Sorrento was better than Hawaii, which I’d agree with. I mean how easy would it be to sit at a dock in sight of a volcano eating pizza in Hawaii? Come to think of it, it’s probably REALLY easy.

After a long, long, delicious lunch, we decided to skip the boat trip for today and take a bus back up the hill (only €1 and no climbing). It was then just a short walk back to the hotel where we watched yet another episode of Desperate Housewives after which Mirinda dived into her siesta and I popped up to the roof for a few beers and typing.

I have to say the large group of topless English girls sunbathing in the corner were a tad distracting – though more so for the old gentlemen of failing eyesight who, upon close inspection, realised what they were staring at and managed a classic double-take as their wives clouted them around the upper arms. The girls were easily picked as English as they were all lilly white…oh, and their distinctly Northern accents.

After a lazy afternoon of Desperate Housewives, we finally set out for dinner. Tonight it was my choice and boy did I choose well. I have to admit to some help from the Lonely Planet but let me add to their praise for the Restaurant Sant’Antonino. Fantastic atmosphere, great food and terrific service (with a smile).

Antonino's

The fact that it is in amongst lemon and orange trees is a big plus but also that this is raised above the ground level so it’s also very quiet – well except for the other millions of diners of course. The people just keep turning up, queuing down the stairs. It’s very popular. I overheard an Australian waiter saying how popular it was – he teaches EFL during the day at a local high school. At a table across from us a couple were also armed with the Lonely Planet guide, presumably turned to the same page as us.

I had yet another pizza and ice cream to finish. We tried the local vino, Sorriso and I cannot agree with Tiberius, it is lovely. I should explain. When the Romans came here to spend their summer holidays, Martial (the poet) believed that Sorrentine wine was delicious after 25 years while Tiberius Caesar thought it tasted of vinegar. Not so anymore!

After dinner we went for a lovely stroll through very lively alley ways and streets. Everything was open and alive and the streets were crowded. It was an excellent atmosphere. It certainly solves the problem of youths hanging about after dark – they are not going to bother when all the adults are there as well! And it wasn’t for drinking either. People were just wandering or meeting and greeting each other. I love this about Europe.

Corso Italia by night

We were back at the hotel at 10, ready to turn in.

I was sitting over breakfast listening to a group of three Americans. The wife of a pair said to the woman they joined “We’ve done everyone but you, I think. We like to move around” to which the woman replied, “You had dinner with me last night.” The wife said “Oh that doesn’t count.”

The three of them proceeded to discuss what was going to happen that day. The couple was going to catch the train up the coast and hop on and off. The single woman thought this very brave – she was going on the daily tour with the rest of the group. As they left, the couple said “If we aren’t back by dinner, send out a search party!”

Eventually Mirinda was well enough to take a stroll through the back lanes of Sorrento. The weather is hot, dry and blue skies (again) though I don’t know the temperature. Sorry, that sounds SO English! I’ll start describing which roads lead down to the Piazza soon.

The main road (see what I mean?) through Sorrento (Corso Italia, appropriately enough) is busy and noisy, particularly where it intersects Piazzo Tasso, the main centre and meeting place of the town. It is named after Torquato Tasso (1544 – 1595), a renaissance poet – his greatest works were a play called Aminta and Jerusalem Delivered, an epic poem of love and adventure during the 1st Crusade – who is Sorrento’s favourite son. An awfully nice statue of him is in the piazza. It was created by Giovanni Carli in 1870.

Torquato Tasso (1544 - 1595)

He actually lived all over Italy but returned here when he fell out with people in Ferrara to surprise his sister by disguising himself as a beggar and saying how hard life was for her poor brother. This fooled his sister, Cornelia into despairing for her poor, poor poet of a brother until he whipped off his disguise and said “Ha, ha, it is really ME!” I dearly hope his poetry is better than his sense of humour. It does not say what Cornelia’s reaction was but I’d like to think she at least threw a lemon at him.

I should explain that Sorrento is famed for its lemons – and boy do they grow some whoppers – as well as all things lemon like Limoncello, lemon soap, lemon sweets, lemon ice cream, lemon lemon, etc, etc it goes on for ever. Everywhere you see lemons. It gives the entire place a yellow, citric glow. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. So any reference to lemons is thus explained.

But returning to Tasso…the most important thing he did for Italy as a whole was to intervene during that famous debate between the supporters of classical poems and those who preferred poems of chivalry. He managed to reconcile the two genres. Whew! I bet Tennyson was pleased. He had a few problems with his mental health though. He once attacked the Duke of Ferrara for some unknown reason and was sent to a mental home for seven years. This mental aberration probably explains the joke he had with his sister.

At the other end of the Tasso Piazza is another statue. This is of Saint Antonino Abate, the patron of Sorrento. This statue was made by Tommaso Solari in 1879. Antonino found refuge in Sorrento when the Lombards attacked. There are other statues to him around the town as well as a church. He has his own piazza, which is why this one is called Tasso…I guess.

St Antonino Abate

Anyway, once you cross through the Villa Comunale (public garden) and head down to the viewing point, the traffic lessens until there is none. What there is then is a very highly priced café. Mirinda decided to throw some money away on the smallest ham and cheese toasted sandwich I’ve ever seen. The coffee was nice.

There was an enormous queue for the single toilet. It was like coach-loads of tourists would appear every now and then and just line up for the loo. It was quite odd. We thought it was just for the café when a waiter and the owner came out to hurriedly talk in Italian while looking at the queue but, according to Mirinda, it is actually for anyone happy enough to leave a tip. Mirinda figured giving them their coffee back was tip enough.

On the way back we stopped off at Frank’s Church (St Francis of Assisi) for a stroll around the small cloisters. This is obviously a favoured photo spot in Sorrento as yesterday a bride and groom were having their wedding snaps taken here and today a group of some sort of graduate chums were busy posing for a big hulk of a guy who may have been their tutor. The cloisters are made up of lots of Gothic columns and many little rooms. Each of the rooms has a ceramic tile outside with the purpose of the room written on it. It’s all very cute though I did find a typo on one – my job has my skills so well honed that I can even pick typos in Italian!

Outside we decided to pay old Frank’s place a visit. It’s a lovely 18th century church with 16th century doors. I assume this means the doors came from somewhere else. Either that or there were a pair of doors standing in an open space for about 200 years which, although tempting, seems highly unlikely.

The church, typical of European churches, is very light and cheerful even though the images of Mary and Jesus are decidedly not. Untypically, it has an interesting form of candle lighting. Rather than having normal little white candles in a box which you purchase and light, an intriguing contraption with lots of little switches and a coin slot is employed. It is extremely confusing. So much so that Mirinda managed to accidentally delete someone else’s prayer.

Having said hi to old Frankie, we continued up the hill stopping for a delicious ice cream (apart from lemons, Sorrento is known for its ice cream) then a stroll through some of the little lanes. Mirinda managed to find at least a million places where we must eat during our stay – looks like the restaurant at Casear Augusto Hotel will not get another look in.

We accidentally came across the Sedile Dominova and admired the frescoes and tromp l’olliel effect arches on the walls. This was a meeting place for 15th century aristocrats to lounge around and laugh at the peasants who were, presumably, serving them and selling them lemons. Apart from such silliness, these sedili (sedile means seat as in seat of government) were also used for local councils to discuss pressing matters of local importance. I guess they were a sort of open air town hall with great murals on the walls. Now they are for people to sit in and photograph.

The exercise was taking its toll so Mirinda decided we’d go back to the room for a rest. She rested while I went up to the roof for a Nastro Azzurro…or five. I could sit at one of the tables in the shade and type till I went insane. It’s great listening to the (predominantly) American tourists speaking loudly in order to make themselves understood by the multi-lingual Italian waiters.

Rooftop cafe at Caesar Augustus hotel

It was very smoggy so the views weren’t as bright and glorious as they no doubt could be. However, this does have the advantage of showing off an otherwise glorious scene as it really is. Mirinda is intent on making sure the world knows how grotty and polluted this place is. And to be fair, it certainly is that. Anything further than about 500 metres starts to appear hazy but the air doesn’t smell as bad as London.

After three beers and a coffee I popped back down to the room to make sure Mirinda was still alive then set out for more exploration.

I wandered down to the quay where you board high speed hydrofoils to Capri, Naples, Ischia and the Amalfi Coast. I was lucky enough to witness just such a ferry disgorge its human cargo onto the dock. There was a lot! All milling and chattering away. I wandered over to the sign that said Peter’s Beach. I wondered who Peter was and why he didn’t have an Italian name.

Peter's Beach, Sorrento

Along the coast here in Sorrento there are private beaches. You eat or drink and lounge on loungers – actually all manner of seating – and go for a quick dip and pay. Generally there appears to be no sand. The loungers are on pontoons or piers stretching out into the protected breakwater. The one public beach is fine (except for the lack of loungers, even of any kind) and has sand but the private ones still have lots of people at them. Maybe it’s a snobby thing.

I wandered around to the ramp that winds its way back up to the Villa Comunale and started up. At one point the ramp becomes an enormous cavern (man-made) with urinary scented steps and mile high ceiling. A bit odd.

I sat for a bit by Old Saint Francis and watched a mad old cat woman gurning the general public as it walked by. The public tended to avoid making eye contact with her which, I think, she took great pleasure in. A few days later when I saw her for the third time, she stamped her umbrella on the ground three times and turned in a circle. I guess she was vanquishing me…or wishing me luck.

Grrrr!

Walking back along the main road I found a public lemon grove. Set above the road there’s an orchard with a footpath running through it. The fruit hangs plump and appealing behind signs which forbid any picking. A tearoom will sell you anything which has come from these lemons.

I gradually wandered back to the hotel, stopping off at the Circumvesuvia station to pick up a timetable. I woke Mirinda as I’d left her the key. Oops.

After a dip in the rooftop pool we managed to watch an episode of Desperate Housewives by crowding round the tiny screen of my Archos and listening via the tiny little speaker! Desperate Tourists more like. Then we set off for dinner.

Now, I have to say that Sorrento is filled with lovely places to eat but what does Mirinda choose? Possibly the WORST restaurant in Italy. Be warned fellow traveller. Should you one day find yourself in lovely Sorrento and you are tempted to dine at the weirdly named Soc 2000 SNC located on via S. Cesareo, back away from that temptation and eat elsewhere.

They advertise Real Italian Service and Service With a Smile. The smile was totally non-existent. Our waiter didn’t stop scowling – perhaps he was in the wrong restaurant. And if it was Italian service then I think I’d rather eat in a café back in old Blighty. A real shame because the location is fantastic as it’s next door to the sedile.

So I had a boring pizza and Mirinda had a green salad consisting of four shreds of lettuce, a plate of fries and a piece of veal. When the bill arrived it claimed we had had two drinks each. We tried to get Mr Misery’s attention but he was too busy being grumpy so Mirinda grabbed a menu from the waiter’s station to find out how much it SHOULD have been. This managed to get him to come over. Turned out the extra drinks charge was, in fact, a service charge – odd since we’d not had any. Needless to say I left no tip.

Once outside we headed for the nearest ice cream vendor and were served by a lovely Italian man who was all smiles – now that’s Real Italian Service…or should be. Cones in hand we then strolled around, (listening to a lonely guitarist perched on a stage in an art gallery) gradually making our way back to the hotel.

We managed to sit through another episode of Desperate Housewives before we both dropped off to sleep.

A year ago today we were in the New Forest and I went for a walk, ending up getting lost. That was 2005. In 2006, I was up at 4am and ready for the 5am taxi to take us to Gatwick for our 7:45 flight to Naples.

British Airways, it seems, rosters on its happiest and brightest desk staff to look after business class customers first thing in the morning. She was so cheerful, we just flew through everything and were sat in the business lounge for an hour and half before our plane was called.

I’ve never been in a business lounge before. Interestingly, the desk staff here were obviously picked for their sourness. What they lack in pleasant demeanour however they make up for in many ways. They have the cutest little French pastries and limitless coffee and beer (not that I had one, given the time). I sat and read the morning paper and Mirinda read her book. She also took a beta-blocker to help her with the flight. Hopefully they will lull her subconscious into a false sense of calm and open space. They did! Thank God.

The flight was pretty uneventful except for the appearance of the youngest stewardess in the BA fleet. I think she was about 8 and dressed very smartly too. Obviously emulating her mum, she is headed for some more air-miles as she gets older. I had a bucks fizz with my breakfast which, having never had one before, I have to say is quite a civilised way to drink orange juice.

We were offloaded onto the tarmac at Naples Capodichini Airport and were hit by the 26° heat – it had been about 10 at Gatwick. Waiting for the luggage I was entertained by a child not above 5 years, who clapped deliriously while jumping for joy when the conveyor belt started moving. This reaction was doubled when he thought he saw their luggage. His face was instantly crestfallen and blame-ridden when his mum told him the luggage was someone else’s. Eventually a stroller came along and he once more went insane with joy and helped his brother haul it off. Our luggage was almost last.

I was concerned that we would just miss the bus to Sorrento and have to wait for two hours or go via Naples main station but as we left the terminal, there was the bus, waiting and filling up. We dutifully joined the queue, stowed our luggage and sat down. Almost an hour later we left Naples airport. This would have been fine except for the complete absence of air in the bus. It is air-conditioned so the windows are permanently closed but the aircon, of course, won’t work when the bus is switched off. It was awful. I had to pretend to remain calm for Mirinda’s sake though I was melting inside.

Naples. What can I say. What springs to mind is a relentless smudge of blocks of flats creating an extremely ugly landscape. They go on forever. Mirinda, not in her happiest frame of mind anyway, was not best pleased with Naples. Everywhere she looked was ugliness. To be fair, this is pretty accurate. But we did only see the airport area and then the freeway edge of the suburbs. Ok, I’m being extremely generous…it’s gross. And the smog! Lordy, lordy it looks like LA during rush hour. AND it gave Mirinda a sore throat!

The bus trip was very nice if you ignore the awful Naples suburbs that seem to stretch unendingly around the bay. Once we passed by the imposing Mt Vesuvius and gradually climbed into the hills, the landscape opened up before us – the Bay of Naples. On a clear day I’m sure it looks awe inspiring. Today it was just hazy with smog. Fortunately this meant that we did not catch sight of any monicelli, the gnome-like creatures which Bernard Wall claims inhabit the gullies around the Sorrentine Peninsular.

We eventually pulled into Sorrento, parking just below the Circumvesuviana station. I was expecting to be in Piazza Tasso which is not far from the hotel so this meant a bit of readjusting. I figured a taxi but the price was €15! This is about £10 to go about 500 metres! Granted it was around the one-way system but Mirinda was adamant we weren’t being THAT ripped off. So I led the way to the hotel.

The approach to Sorrento station

Once we arrived it was lovely. We were in room 404 with a view of the backs of the hotel in back of our hotel. Mirinda crashed while I went up to the roof top to enjoy a coffee and the view back around the bay. It was still very hazy.

We both had a bit of a siesta until 6 when I left Mirinda to her throat suffering and went to explore Sorrento.

Sorrento, (the Roman resort town of Surrentum) the town is named after the sirens of Greek myth who mesmerised men with their beautiful song only to lure them onto the dangerous rocks. Well, those sirens are still working because I LOVE it. Once you get away from the main street, it’s full of little back alleys with all sorts of shops. Scooters frequently manage to squeeze by you in these thin alleys – I actually saw a car having to reverse because an old guy wouldn’t give way down one of them.

Around Sorrento great cliffs of limestone rise up giving the town shelter as well as suspending it above the sea. These limestone outcrops are all that’s left of ancient ocean dwellers from around the Cretaceous period. Deep ravines cut through some of this limestone giving way to fresh water flowing from deep within inaccessible caverns. There are plenty of these deep ravines with mysterious and inviting ruins deep within them.

Now defunct mill in Mura Ravine

The mystery is no more. The Mura ravine, not far from the hotel, once held a factory with a water wheel, controlled by the flow of the river at the bottom. According to a book I’m presently reading about the earth, these ravines may be the result of the collapse of deep caves many millennia ago due to erosion and earth movements.

I had the loveliest hazelnut ice cream I ever remember having and gradually made my way down to the church of St Francis of Assisi where there’s a lookout point with fantastic views across the Bay of Naples.

I gradually made my way back stopping once to buy a book on Sorrento (where I met the world’s smelliest dog) and a mug for Mirinda to use for her Italian Lemsip (Tachifludec).

I returned about 7:30 and we went downstairs to eat in the hotel. The food was fine but a bit bus tour – in fact we were asked twice if we were with two different bus tours. Every time you order something you have to quote your room number and sign a chit. This must drive the waiters insane. Of course it just made me feel like a celeb signing autographs for my millions of adoring fans.

Mirinda wanted an apple juice but the waiter returned to say there wasn’t any left. He suggested apricot, which Mirinda jumped at. A little while later he swung by our table and declared “The apricot is coming!” Mirinda expected a giant one with arms and legs to march up to our table for us to bow to but all that appeared was a little man with an even littler bottle.

Back in our room I took a shower. We all know I can’t resist chatting about showers in my journals, so here goes. The pressure is ok, the temperature is fabulous – like who needs hot water when the weather is this hot – and the bathroom is very big. But the towels. Something I’ve never seen before is giant Chux. Rather than assume my readers know what a Chux is I’ll tediously explain: They come in packs of 10, 20, 50, etc, are generally blue or green and are disposable dish cloths, characterised by tiny upraised squares on the surface which, somehow hold moisture.

These Chux are the size of a bath towel and white but they are definitely Chux. I have to say that they work brilliantly though they feel a bit weird. On the other hand, the hand towels are slightly over-sized tea towels (without the tourist print) and work about as well. So that’s the bathroom dealt with.

Oh dear! I need to mention the sad fact that I spent ages getting all the episodes of Battlestar Galactica and Desperate Housewives on my Archos only to find out when we arrived in our room that the TV doesn’t have a SCART connection!!!! Damn and blast. Mirinda NOT impressed. It’ll be Italian TV then…