Rome -- 4/13/11

Bad start to the day.

Really, really bad start to the day.

I don’t normally wear a watch and I completely forgot to bring one. I was thinking that I could use my cell phone as a clock but there’s no signal in Italy (No, I can’t hear you now!). The room had no clock except for the one on the TV. That clock would only display when the lights were on and the TV had been turned on. Not helpful. Knowing all this, I made sure to buy an alarm clock the previous day. And set it by the TV clock.

Big mistake.

That clock was an hour behind. And so was I.

I woke at 5:37 (really 6:37). Figuring I had some time, I just lay there for a while. Less than ten minutes later the phone rings. It’s the front desk telling me that the tour bus is waiting downstairs. Oh crap.

I nearly kill myself to get ready in record time and run downstairs. I get there and let the driver and the guide know I’d arrived and they still wander around confused. They refuse to believe that I’m the only one they need to pick up from the Art Deco. When they finally realize that it really is just me, we’re off.

Unlike my first two days in Rome, today day is overcast, windy, and cold. As my knees are being crushed against the bus seats, I realize that along with forgetting my jacket and umbrella (and oh yeah my Chapstick), that I’m in some amount of pain. The nightly soaking is doing wonders for my feet. They’re not the problem. My ankles and shins hurt. What’s that about? And, thanks to those steps at the Colosseum (seriously, just take the elevator!), my thighs are sore. Nice.

After picking up a few more passengers we head to the tour office where there’s more confusion. The bus picked up people going on several different tours and now we have to get sorted onto the correct buses to head out. It takes a while but I make it on the bus to Capri which also includes a tour group headed to Pompeii. We are greeted by a pretty Italian tour guide named Angelica who impresses me by speaking fluent Spanish, English, and French. She explains that the trip to Naples will take two hours (with a pit stop to a town called Cassino mid-way through) and that the Capri people will be let off at the ferry while the Pompeii people will stay on the bus.

By the time we reach Cassino, it is really starting to rain. While the other passengers get in line for snacks at the small truck-stop, I do some shopping. The gift shop is pretty extensive. Along with the usual postcards and stuff, there is a big display of glasswork and a vast selection of olive oils, pasta, and chocolate. And limoncello. Lots and lots of limoncello. Angelica had told us on the way over that Naples is where the special lemons are grown to produce this alcoholic brew so we would find it all over this part of the country. I bought some truffle infused olive oil and balsamic vinegar as planned for this trip.

Back on the bus, Angelica hands out headsets for the Pompeii people and stickers for all with the tour company’s name and phone number on them. She tells us that if anyone gets lost or separated from the group, they should dial the number and she would get with the guide of the tour to find the lost (but please don’t get lost because is costs her money).

First impression of Naples: it’s dirty and full of slums. Add that to the fact that the rain that had stopped during the trip was starting up again and I was getting very apprehensive. The bus stops at the pier to drop off the Capri people. Angelica hands us over to another tour guide, an older gentleman named Umberto, then gets back on the bus.

The 12 or so people in my tour group are left to wait while Umberto gets the ferry tickets. The group stays under the awning for a while before splintering off to visit the nearby café or wander the pier. I head over to a newsstand to reluctantly buy an umbrella. The very over-crowded little stand also sells plastic raincoats. I buy one of those instead and put it on just as it starts to pour outside. Since I don’t have a watch and I don’t know where the pier is, I end up slogging through the rain down to the far end of the pier looking for the group. They weren’t there so I slogged back to the awning – which is where I was supposed to be in the first place as the rest of the group has already gathered.

Okay. Let’s recap. I was late for the bus. I had to pay 7.5 euros for a cheap windbreaker when I had a jacket and an umbrella all nice and dry back at the hotel. I’m already cold and now my jeans are wet from the knees down (and there is nothing more disgusting than wearing wet denim). All I can say is:

This had better be the best freaking tour I’ve ever taken in my life.

After waiting in line in the now slacking off rain, we finally board the ferry. The seats are set up like a large airplane (wasn’t expecting that). With the cabin pretty full, we were on our way.

I already knew the wind was up but I was not expecting the water to be as choppy as it was. Not a good sign when the crew starts walking the aisles handing out plastic bags. When the waves first hit us, people were cheering but that didn’t last very long. Then the retching began. And of course it had to be the woman in the row behind me to start it. Others soon joined her, including the guy sitting two seats away from me. The young woman in front of me actually stood up and turned around to wave off a guy from barfing before she was also clutching plastic.

Personally, I enjoyed the waves. It was like being on an extended roller coaster ride. I couldn’t stop smiling as I watched the spray hit the windows. It just reminded me of how long it’s been since I’ve been on the open water. My lack of sea-sickness also lent further credence to my past-life-as-an-explorer theory. I vowed then and there that my next vacation had to be somewhere tropical. I would love to go back to Hawaii but really anywhere I can get wet will be good.

With more and more people barfing around us, the American woman next to me noted that this would be a long hour. I had to agree. My only concern was that all the noise and … uh … smells (eww!) would make me queasy. Praying that no one vomited on me, I buckled down and wished I’d brought my MP3 player.

And yeah, that was a long hour. By the time we could see the pier the rain had stopped. The woman who had started the vomit-fest was moaning quietly and chanting “Per favore! Per favore!” I was sitting next to the door so I was one of the first ones to jump up and get in line to leave. I’d taken off the raincoat for the ride and when I got up to put it on, I noticed a tear along the right shoulder. Now how did that happen? Oh well. It was still windy outside and it was all I had. I put it on as best as I could and left the ferry.

On the pier I thought I spotted Umberto’s umbrella as he raised it in the air but I soon lost sight of him as we hit the street. I then begin to nervously look around for any other member of the group. I can find not a one of them.

I did not want to be that special child; the one that you have to watch like a hawk so they don’t wonder off. But, here I am, on my 40^th birthday, wandering clueless on the pier of Capri. I’m walking up and down the street contemplating whether I should call the number taped on my shirt and wondering why I didn’t just stay in Rome when I finally spot the tour group. Oh everyone was so worried and Umberto joked that I must have found another tour I liked better. Ha. Ha. Can we just get on the bus?

Our group is one of at least three tour groups that were on the same ferry. We all mingle together, making me feel lost again, until we board our respective busses. Then we head up this narrow windy road to another bus stop. Umberto leads us to the town square and gives us an hour of free time before we are to meet again in front of a little shop called Limoncello.

Now that the panic of being lost is over, I can actually appreciate how gorgeous Capri really is. The small island only has about 20,000 full-time residents. It has a very small town feel yet you still see some Italian excess in the high-end shops that are all around. I’m really confused as to why one would need a Balenciaga gown on such a small island but whatever. Business must be good because I see more than one new shop under construction. Tourism is obviously very big here as there are hotels, restaurants, and lots of souvenir shops everywhere.

With no watch, I rely on the watches displayed in a store window to keep track of the time. The rip in the rain jacket is steadily getting bigger and bigger and with the wind up, it’s all I can do to keep the right sleeve attached. With my hair blowing all over the place (no time to twist it up as I’d planned to do this morning), I look like a wild-haired vagrant set loose on the streets.

The shop called Limoncello is very prettily done up in yellow and green. Umberto encourages me to join the others in getting a free sample of the island’s most famed product. The lady behind the counter offers me a cold shot. Limoncello, if you’ve never had it, is like lemonade on steroids. It is a very strong liqueur that clears your sinuses with some serious lemon action. I buy a couple of bottles as souvenirs for others but I think I’ll stick to being a teetotaler.

We board another bus to go higher up the mountain. You need skills to drive in Rome. Capri roads take driving to a whole new level. The streets here are so treacherous you really have to have nerves of steel. There are places up this road where we are literally hugging the curve on the edge of a cliff. Then another bus will pass by so closely we can practically high-five the other passengers. I still don’t know why there aren’t bodies piled up on the side of the roads.

We make it up the mountain and park. Umberto leads us to the restaurant where we’ll have lunch. It’s a small place and the seats are really close together. The lunch is included with the tour (except for drinks) and is made up of a pasta course, salad and meat (pork) or fish, and dessert. I have this almost jelly-like fish which is pretty good although there is way too much of it for me. I only finish half the fish and take a few bites of the chocolate cake before I’m ready to leave.

I go to put on the dreaded rain coat again when I notice that another tear has started up the other sleeve. That’s it. I shove it into my bags and immediately go off in search of the first shop I can find that sells outerwear. The shop I spot is tucked away in a corner with the owner standing out front. She greets me and helps me into a blue zippered sweatshirt. It fits amazingly well (even the sleeves are long enough and that never happens for me) and I ask the damages. At this point I don’t really care what it costs or even what it looks like. It’s hooded and warm which is just what I’m looking for. I happily pay her 25 euros and go off to explore further.

Shops abound up here as well along with a museum and some kind of spa. I stumble on a sunken area with three shops huddled together. Two of the shops have the usual t-shirts and small souvenir knick-knacks. But the first shop is full of hand-painted pottery and interesting candles. I go to look at the candles shaped like shells, figures, and food and the shop owner comes over to help. She tells me that everything is made by her and her husband and I can tell she takes great pride in that. I’m a craft person myself so I like to support others. I decide to buy a nifty candle shaped like a slice of cake with fruit on it when I spot the paintings along the back wall. Amidst all the bright sunny paintings of Capri, this 5 x 7 one of the caves underneath the island really stands out. She tells me that the caves are now closed so there’s no chance for me to see them for myself.

Now I’m not normally an art aficionado. I can admire artwork and then walk away (it helps that I’m cheap). But I love this piece. She tells me the price is 59 euros with the frame and 39 without. So why not? It is my birthday.

Her husband comes out from the back and I compliment him on his work. He takes the piece out of its frame packs it up, and rings me out. I leave quite happy with my purchase. The painting by itself almost makes up for all the other mishaps on this trip.

Once again I eye some gelato in a store window. It’s just so pretty. All the colors! But even though the rain stopped it’s still a cold windy day. Just not the right time to be eating ice cream. Maybe tomorrow.

We gather up again and it’s back on the bus for trip down the mountain. Off onto another bus that takes us to the pier. Umberto again purchases our tickets but there’s a hitch. I go to give my ticket to the crewmate at the ferry and he won’t let me on. Seems this is the 5:00 ferry and my ticket says 5:30. A few words between Umberto and the crew and those of us (glad it wasn’t just me) with the later tickets were finally allowed on board.

The trip back on the ferry is a breeze. It’s not nearly as crowded and the water is calm. I end up sleeping most of the way back. It was almost like I blinked and we were pulling into Naples harbor.

With the weather cleared up, we can make out Mount Vesuvius in the distance. Back on the bus, Angelica hopes we had a good time despite the yucky weather.

We make a stop at the same shop in Cassino as earlier mid-way through the trip then head back into Rome. As I am really tired at this point, I’m glad the plan to go back to the tour office to change buses again is scrubbed. The driver instead drops people off directly at their hotels in some cases and he lets me off on Via Palestro. By this time it’s around 9:30. I have just enough energy for a bath and then it’s off to bed.

Despite the really rocky start, I am glad I took the trip. I can definitely say that my 40^th birthday was one to remember.