The Beauty of Southern Italy

Dear readers, even though last week (well, two weeks ago now) was an amazing educational one, it also seemed the most purposeless. Though I am sure that each and every experience I have will play its role in the future, for the sake of this internship, I offered next to nothing as I sat and observed the WFP Executive Board Meetings.

This negative perception, I am sure, was also affected by the fact that I have been drifting in my faith. Though I have searched for churches and Bible studies, I have found nothing that fit into my schedule. Finding an English-speaking Protestant church here is quite difficult. So one could see why I was so excited for my “weekend retreat,” a weekend to spend on my own in an entirely new environment. I asked God to meet me there.

I left work last Friday after a half-day. In an hour, I was on a train, heading to the Amalfi Coast, one of Italy’s must sees. After three-hours in sweaty second class, I hopped on board a bus in Salerno, which was to take me to my final destination. For those who do not know, a bus ride on the Almafi coast is one of the “great white-knuckle” rides. It is a narrow and winding road on the edge of a cliff that plunges into the sea. Frequent hairpin turns are equipped with large mirrors so that busses can be aware of oncoming traffic to avoid ramming them through the guardrail. It reminded me of my ride through the mountains of Rwanda, when Caleb and I played a game to see who could stay up. Same as then, I was not afraid of falling off. If it had happened, it would have been a good way to go.

Though most who travel to the Amalfi Coast stay in Amalfi, I stayed in its lesser-known sister town, Altrani, the smallest municipality in Italy. Both are beautiful and full of Arabesque and Moorish art and architecture, but ynlike Amalfi, Altrani does not have a touristy feel. Sure, there were English menus in its town square, but there were not gelatorias on every street. I took a good whiff. It smelled like sea and dirt with a pinch of spice; it smelled like southern Italy.
Though I had reserved a bed in the hostel’s dorm room, the owner was far from full so he gave me my own room. Well, my own walled space, but I still shared a ceiling with a few others. After securing my stuff anyways, I went out and ordered a fresh pizza with white cheese and ripe little tomatoes instead of a sauce. Though it was sprinkling, I was comfortable in my t-shirt. I took my meal to the shore and climbed rock to gaze at the sea. The sight was incredible. Waves burst up from the sea and a mighty lightning storm was ripping across the horizon. As I finished the best pizza I have ever tasted, the clouds receded to display a majestic night sky and a brilliant moon that lit the seaside village. I was comforted to know that God had met me after all.

I took advantage of the light and walked around the town after dark. All of these villages are a cartographer’s nightmare, which is what makes them so fun. When they were originally established, no one was thinking about the long-term. Narrow walkways wind and twist through passages and over staircases. About the only sense of direction I had was that if I went down, I eventually would reach the sea, and if I went up, I would eventually reach the hills. Getting lost in such a quaint village is quite amusing. In fact, when I asked the hostel owner earlier what there was to see in Altrani, he responded “Oh it is so nice. There are little streets, with little windows and little houses. Oh it is so nice.” Indeed, it was. I got back to my enclosed living space late and slept well.

Saturday began with an amazing breakfast provided by the hostel. Though I had come to expect prison food (bread and water), this is not the case for the A’Scalinatella hostel. I was served a abundant European breakfast of juice, a hot drink (I chose tea), a roll with jam, and best of all, a large croissant, the best I have had.

And after my meal, I climbed, and climbed, and walked, and climbed up about 1,000 steep stairs to the small village Ravello. For of all you graphic art enthusiasts, I learned that M.C. Escher paused to draw a flight on his ascent as well. He probably sketched to give himself an excuse to rest. Whereas Altrani touches the sea, Ravello touches the sky, set atop one of the mountains of the coastline. But the climb was wonderful because the higher I went, the more amazing the panorama became.
When I reached the top, I paid a visit to Villa Cimbrone, which was used as a villa for a English gentlemen in 1904. Its gardens were very nice, even though it is late in the fall, but the highlight was the villa’s famed “Terrace of the Infinity,” a balcony that hangs on the edge off the peak of the mountain, presenting an OMNI-MAX view of the sky and the sea. From here, it is often hard to locate the horizon, which makes the view all the more mesmerizing. If you looked at it long enough, you could almost imagine what it would be like to fly.

By the end of my day, I developed quite the fear for steps. To reach another village, I had walked down into a valley and up again. From here I walked up more to the Torre della Ziro, an medieval Aragonese tower with a spectacular aerial view of both Amalfi and Altrani. I laughed to see how small Altrani was considering that I had gotten lost in it the previous night. However, I did not find my return route amusing. Though Altrani was so close, I had to backtrack and go down into Amalfi and around to Altrani, using a path that I could clearly see from my position. I almost jumped down, but thought better of it.
When I finally returned, I was sweaty and warm, so I put on my suit and went into the sea, but it was salty and cold, so I quickly got out. I finally relaxed in a hot shower back at the hostel. My feet were telling me to turn in for the night, but I told them to suck it up. Besides, I was not going to walk around more, but get something to eat. I decided to try a sit-down restaurant down by the sea. This meal cost significantly more than the pizza, my homemade ravioli with squid sauce was the best food I have had in Italy, and it came with the best service. Along with the cost came a pre-dinner and post-dinner drink that my waiter had made himself. He told me that the former is used to ready your taste buds, while the latter is designed to freshen your breath. Both worked well.

I spent my last night in the village sitting in the town square, watching the locals. What I appreciated about Altrani was that it was not so influenced by tourism that the local Italians would not come out at night. To the contrary, they walked the shoreline, filled the bars and celebrated birthdays in the restaurant. The Italian soccer was on television too and every time the home-team scored, noise would erupt from the bar, followed by an uproar throughout the entire village. It was a classic “I’m in Itlay” moment, and it gave me tingles.

After a restful sleep, I woke up and packed an hour too early, literally. I had forgotten about Italian daylight savings. So while waiting an hour for the hostel breakfast, I walked the town and its shore one last time. Soon after my meal, I was aboard another bus bound for Sorrento, which covered the rest of the coastline. This stretch may have been even more twisting and beautiful than the one from before. I took particular interest in locating each of the Turkish pirate watchtowers that still stand by the water, which would have used roof bonfires to signal the others in case of an attack. Of course, when I learned about the bonfire communication technique I was reminded of The Lord of the Rings, which probably explains my fascination with it.

From Sorrento, I immediately got on a commuter train that took my north to my next destination: the famed ruins of Pompeii. Off in the distance, the looming Mt. Vesuvius provided an ominous backdrop to the city’s ruins. It was the ash-fall resulting from the eruption of this volcano in 79 AD that put Pompeii in its current state. I had always thought that they had coming, being that they lived under a volcano, but I surprised to learn that the people assumed it was a mountain, until it exploded, rained tons of ash and killed everyone in the city. If you look at it now, it has two peaks, but prior to its eruption it was one connected peak that stood much higher than it does today.
It was strange to look at the plaster casts of the victims, which they can archive by using the empty space (once filled with a body that has since decomposed) as a mold. Though these people lived almost two millennia ago, you can not help but pity their fate. However, others will point out that their unintended sacrifice has provided us with a great insight into Ancient Roman life. Given the choice, though, I am sure they would have chosen survival.

Having said that, Pompeii is a fantastic ruin, and walking around the enormous seaport city (then populated by about 20,000 people) is fascinating for amateurs and experts alike. Some of Pompeii’s highlights were its forum, many temples and government buildings, political graffiti, brothels (with surprisingly graphic frescos), wheel-groves and “stepping-stone” sidewalks (used by locals to cross the streets when they were being cleaned). However, it reminded me of my visit to Ostia Antica in many ways too. Even though Pompeii has a much better drama to accompany, its popularity and continuing excavation makes its much more restrictive to the visitor. Besides, what made Pompeii so unique is that it came equipped with ancient artifacts and artwork, but most of this has since been relocated to the Naples Archeological Museum.
So, leaving Pompeii at about mid-afternoon, I hopped back on the commuter train and journeyed to Naples. I went directly the museum and spent a few hours looking at its exhibits of Roman statues, Egyptian artifacts, and the riches of Pompeii. Though each collection was extensive, I was annoyed by how unprofessional the museum seemed. In terms of proper lighting and artifact protection and placement, I felt like I could be a better curator. As I soon discovered though, this style was simply characteristic of the entire city of Naples.

It was dark when I was done with the museum, and I wanted Napoleon pizza, since it was invented here, but I was not about to go out alone at night. Fortunately, my gift of gab (passed down from my father) had gained me three American friends who shared a similar guidebook. So together we ventured in search of a pizzeria recommended in the book. On the way, we discovered that Naples in much darker than Rome, in terms of color, architecture and atmosphere. There are parts when you know it is not wise to pull out your English edition of “ITALY 2008!” Yet at the same time, there was something about it that was appealing too. It had continued to retain its character.

The pizza was good, but I liked my pizza in Altrani better. After I filled myself with the greasy-goodness, I took off for the train station. I returned to Rome at eleven at night and was sleeping an hour later. So for my entire weekend I spend two hours in Rome.

Thank you for reading this record-long post! God bless!