Spring Break in the South

I spent my spring break exploring the coast and meeting the people of Campania, a region in southern Italy. My best friend, Libby, made the trip in from Cairo (yes, the one in Egypt) to wander around with me in the coastal town of Sorrento, the frozen ruins of Pompeii, the island of Capri, and the metropolis of Naples. Though I may have been stationed in Florence for the past two months, I was no more prepared than Libby for the newness of the south.

After riding two trains through Italy to get to Sorrento, Libby and I decided to walk to our hotel. Though the walk was a thirty-minute trek straight up a seaside cliff, I saw the most beautiful set of coastline I had ever seen. I had never experienced anything like it. Cliffs shot down into the Bay of Naples, Mount Vesuvius loomed over the blue water, and I lost count of the number of lemon trees lining the road. When we finally reached our bed and breakfast, we quickly discovered that the proprietor and sole employee of the establishment spoke no English. An out of the way location, a monolingual owner, and sparse running water might have spelled disaster for some, but Libby and I thrived. I finally discovered that I could speak Italian—Alex and I rarely struggled to communicate, and I even translated for him. From his suggestions, we explored the area all the way down to a cozy rocky cove on the coast. A quick bus took us down to Sorrento, and we quickly discovered that all the rumors were true: southern Italy really does have the best food.

Just as we loved Sorrento for all that was living and thriving there, we loved all that no longer lived in Pompeii. The once grand Roman city stood static, embraced by tiny coastal cities and green hills. After Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D., Pompeii and Ercolano lay underneath a thick layer of ash and rock, unwittingly preserving a perfect model of a Roman city. Though I doubt the Pompeian’s were happy that they gave up their lives for our benefit, I think Libby and I are only two of millions of people who are grateful for their gift. While Libby is surrounded by the relics of ancient Egypt in Cairo, and I by those of the Renaissance, Pompeii was the perfect middle. We were fascinated by the walls, the mosaics, the fountains (even the brothel, which was the most crowded spot in the whole city). One of the most interesting but also horrifying parts of Pompeii were the petrified human remains, or “the victims” as Libby called them, that littered the site. They were frozen in time, watching us pass by and admire what was once their home. Libby loved the Temple of Isis, a symbol of the Egyptian immigrant presence in the city, and I loved the grand House of the Dancing Faun, complete with a colonnaded courtyard and a private kitchen. We easily and happily spent hours among the ruins. At one point, we climbed a short wall and stepped into what appeared to be a closed off garden. Though this probably (definitely) wasn’t allowed, my close look at great columns and view into an empty Roman house are not experiences I will ever forget. Pompeii, older than Venice or Florence or Naples, symbolized the Italian tendency to preserve their culture. They actively seek to conserve their heritage; no Italian would forget that they are the inheritors of the Etruscan and Roman Empires. This archaeological site, many of which have been covered and built upon over the centuries, has become one of the most famous relics of history in the world.

Pompeii and Sorrento were two towns of different time periods. While Pompeii was ancient and purely Roman, Sorrento was bright and colorful. A newer Italy dominated the main drag, and the town focused more on its limoncello and tasty seafood than its Roman history. Capri, a famous but tiny island off the Bay of Naples, combined the small and shiny feeling of Sorrento, the cultural embrace of Pompeii, and something I had not yet seen in Italy: a love of nature. When we pulled around the northern corner of the island, I realized that I had only seen Italian cities. I had flown by the countryside in trains, but I had never really been surrounded by fresh air and salty, sloping cliffs. Our four days there were too fast; Capri was where we felt most at home.

The island was as empty as it could be. The Ferragamo and Louis Vuitton stores were closed, and the streets smelled of fresh paint, signaling preparations for the coming tourist season. But though the shopping was minimal, and tourists were scarce (especially at night), the locals wandered the streets and the cliffs whispered to the quiet town. A soccer player, Libby followed the sounds of whistles to a dirt soccer field squeezed between tiny streets in the middle of Capri Town. We later made the climb to Monte Solaro and Monte Cappello with only a few to keep us company, and we hiked along the Sentiero dei Fortini, a trail touching each of the centuries-old forts lining the western coast, with only a few lizards as companions.

For us, the natural and relatively untouched areas of the island drew us closest. Everything we saw was beautiful. While I’m sure the island has been kept this way deliberately, we couldn’t help but compare it to the developed resort islands that litter the Caribbean. Even the Blue Grotto, the most famous attraction of Capri where the water inside a small cave turns bright blue during the day, had an authenticity that I hadn’t seen anywhere else. Visiting Capri in the off-season, while a little cold, turned into the best decision of the trip. We went to the same local restaurant three nights in a row, we got to know our hotel proprietor, Lucia, very well, and even rode across the island in a few empty buses. Though we were just a pair of visitors in over 2000 years of tourism to Capri (there are Roman Villas to prove it), we loved the feeling of home exuded by Capri.

Staying in Italy for spring break, though uncommon, made me even more attached to Italy. I love speaking Italian, and I love seeing the endless facets of this relatively tiny peninsula. Even when we stopped in Naples for our last morning, the city’s contrast with its neighbors in the north made its size and slightly dangerous feel a source of fascination. I can no longer imagine only visiting Italy for one week, or even two weeks. Even after living here for two months, I have hardly scratched the surface. The country now seems like a friend; each city shows a different aspect of its personality, its beauty and its roughness. But I think that, like a friend, the thought of leaving it behind terrifies me.