Italy - Rome to Furore

After four nights and three full days, we were ready to check out of Rome and head for the hillsides of southern Italy.  Rome is vast and rambling, muscular in its appearance, full of ancient history and some of the world’s most beautiful artistic treasures.  It is also crowded, noisy, and dirty just like any big European city, and every destination there brings a journey full of challenges.  The Romans have done an excellent job of preserving and presenting their historic riches, and the areas surrounding the monuments, plazas, and churches are clean and compelling.  The streets in the majority of the residential areas in which we trod were gritty with community trash and recycling bins overflowing onto the sidewalk and cigarette butts by the thousands.  Back home, if one does not pick up after one’s dog using the cute green bags supplied by the homeowners' association, one is subject to public shame and flogging at the neighborhood clubhouse.  There are no cute bags in Rome, and it’s challenging navigating a path between the piles, especially at night walking home from the bus stop.  During the course of our stay in Rome, we determined that we needed at least two hours to reach any terminus, and just as much time to return home due to long waits for buses and fighting crowds of locals and tourists.  I can’t imagine the volume of people that fill the streets during the peak of the tourist season in summer.  I’m not complaining - that’s just life in any big, ancient city, and unless the goal is to relocate and set up a life with the three million people who call the Eternal City home, it’s best to get in, see the cool stuff, and get out, which is exactly the strategy we employed.

We slept in a little later on our last day in Rome and decided to visit the Vatican one more time with a self-guided tour of Saint Peter’s Basilica.  We waited for the bus for an hour, and due to rerouting for street maintenance, it took almost another hour to reach the area of St. Peter’s square.  The huge plaza in front of the Vatican was not very crowded, and we hoped getting into the basilica would be a breeze, but we discovered the huge crowd we thought was waiting for the museum was in line for St. Peter’s, and it all had to funnel through just a few metal detectors.  We accepted our fate and joined the crowd, and thankfully it only took about thirty minutes to get through security and approach the massive building at the back of the compound.  

St. Peter’s is not a cathedral since it is neither the seat of a bishop, nor the mother church of the Catholic faith, but the basilica is considered one of the greatest works of renaissance architecture.  Deena and I wanted our children to see Michelangelo’s amazing, heart-rending Pieta completed when the artist was in his early twenties.  I was struggling to find my way in the world in my early twenties while Michelangelo was busy completing one of the world’s most perfect sculptures during his.  The Pieta is located near the main door of the basilica, so we saw it first and lingered there for a bit before walking the perimeter of the building's interior.  Near the end of our visit, the crowds got roped off while a procession to the altar took place complete with a big golden cross and cardinals dressed in colorful robes.  The interior of St. Peter’s assaults the senses with size, color, and history and touring its vast confines creates an insatiable desire for gelato, which we satisfied at a gelateria located among the souvenir shops lining the avenue leading to the Vatican.  

Michelangelo's incredible Pieta

It was dark by the time we got off the bus in our neighborhood, and Halloween was in full swing with groups of trick or treaters stopping at all of the businesses to collect candy while the moms and dads stood outside engaged in animated conversation.  We stopped for one last take out dinner from our beloved neighborhood eatery and walked back to the apartment to begin packing once again.  We rose early the next morning on All Saints Day which is a big deal in Italy, ate a quick breakfast, and struck out for a hike to the train station a couple of kilometers away.  The streets were almost empty as the Romans were sleeping late on the holiday, and we were a bit concerned about the commuter train schedules but arrived at the station relieved to see all the trains running on time, and thirty minutes later we reached the bus station where our Flixbus chariot to Naples was waiting.
 

The city of Naples is located on the Bay of Naples in southwest Italy near the top of the foot part of the boot.  While the city itself isn’t a huge draw for tourists, it’s a jumping off point for other popular destinations such as Capri, Sorrento, Salerno, and our home for the next six days, the Amalfi Coast.  As our bus got within thirty kilometers of Naples, I noticed an unusual mountain appearing on the horizon, and as it got larger the nearer we drove, I realized it was none other than Vesuvius, the legendary volcano and another spectacle on earth I never thought I would ever see in person.  I’m eliminating a lot of those unreachable spectacles on this trip.  From the time I first saw it to the time it disappeared from view as we crossed the mountains down to the Amalfi Coast, I couldn't take my eyes off Mount Vesuvius.  The reddish brown cone rises above the tree covered caldera of another ancient volcano, and the view is completely captivating and a bit scary from a newcomer’s perspective.  Vesuvius is still active and considered dangerous, but that condition hasn’t stopped more than three million Italians from settling in its shadow, proving that people will do anything for an oceanfront view.

The villa in which we are staying for a week is located in Furore, a small town in the hills overlooking the Amalfi Coast.  Our host, Michele, met us at the bus station and drove us an hour into the hills on twisting roads that would have made Mario Andretti turn green, and I think it was our laser focus on Vesuvius that kept our lunch in its place as we ascended.  Michele’s wife, Anna, was waiting for us when we arrived, and they helped us with our luggage as we walked from the road down centuries old, cracked stone steps to our villa with a Mediterranean view of which we’re not worthy.  Michele and Anna showed us all the particulars about the house, and since the local markets were closed for All Saints Day, they invited us for an early supper in their villa next door.  We spent twenty minutes or so settling in and marveled at the grotto-like appearance of our villa with its whitewashed walls and textured, barrel curved ceilings with all baseboards, countertops, and cabinets trimmed with bright yellow and blue tiles.  All of the arched windows are open to a vast view of the ocean, and it’s difficult to tell where the sea ends and the sky begins.

View from our villa

The hillsides surrounding our cluster of villas are laced with old stone staircases and terraced for growing grapes.  The vines are layered through gray weathered trellises among rows full of squash and zucchini, and the borders are lush with deep green herb gardens.  As we walked next door for our meal, we were trying to comprehend this Eden in which we had landed while our minds were still somewhat set in big city Rome.  Michele and Anna ushered us into their kitchen with warm smiles and loud Italian phrases which we took to mean, “Let’s eat!”  The first course was penne pasta with a fresh carbonara sauce accompanied by Michele’s delicious homemade wine that he insisted we all drink much to Joseph and Deveny’s wide eyed surprise, and as responsible parents, Deena and I looked at each other and said, “Aw, what the heck.”  Next came antipasto with meats, cheeses, and fresh olives with crunchy bread drenched in oil...and more wine.  We speak no Italian, and Michele and Anna speak very little English, so we had the phones buzzing with Google translate, but soon we were just laughing and gesturing with our hands.  Anna brought out little plates of delicate fudge cake covered with warm chocolate sauce and powdered sugar which we devoured while sipping her homemade limoncello, a liqueur made with lemon peel water and sugar.  Michele also insisted we finish the meal with their homemade pistachio liqueur made with heavy cream and brandy.  We thanked our hosts profusely for their hospitality and Anna’s amazing cooking, and we waddled back to our villa smiling and humming to ourselves ready for a nap.  After several intense days in Rome, the Amalfi Coast was already a welcome respite.

There's something to be said for retirement