Pompeii

This will decrease my credibility as a tourist but Pompeii was never on my list of places I wanted to go. I mean, I did want to see the area. But I didn't want to see the civilization; I wanted to see Vesuvius, the mountain that was capable of freezing that civilization in time.  Vesuvius is considered one of the most volatile and dangerous stratovolcanos in the world; it hasn't had a serious eruption since 1944 and the 3 million residents residing in its wake are currently enjoying the longest period of inactivity in the last three centuries.  My inner geology geek squeaked with delight.

Vesuvius looms (and its ashy remains produce delicious wine)

Thankfully, Rosa and Lauren were a lot more desirous of seeing Pompeii itself.  Unfortunately so was an entire cruise ship full of tourists sailing the Mediterranean.  But we did quickly learn that in a place 170 acres across, it is possible to avoid the throng of tourists.

We bought our tickets (about 11 euros) and began scaling the site, from amphitheater to vineyard to everyday dwellings. The civilization was founded between the 6th and 7th century and the Oscans who built it knew a thing or two.  Drainage and drinking wells were ample; floor plan dwellings were considered; social space, worship space, communal space was given to all.

Lauren and Rosa, both friendlier than me, made friends with a random stranger who turned out to work on the site.  He offered us some on-the-side tour that I'm not sure was 100% legit.  We were led away from the tourists, underneath 'work in progress' tape and into open-roofed ruins tucked behind one alleyway or another.  We poked our noses around an excavation in progress where the bones of a family with two children were frozen trying to escape the ash cloud of 79AD.

she's finally taller than someone

We stayed away from the mainstay attractions, mostly because we couldn't get past the tourists.  And in the end, we only had 3 hours to wander because we had a train to catch.  It wasn't enough time and it was impossible to really take in what we were seeing.

I'm doing this no justice, I am aware. But I was in awe. Cliches aside, Pompeii really is one of those places you need to see to believe.

Our trip sort of ended there.  By sort of I mean Lauren and Rosa left me to book the flight home.  And because it was 1/3rd of the price and only half a thumb away on the map, I booked us a flight from Pisa.  This meant getting from Naples to Pisa on the train.  This turned into a seven-hour ordeal--a three hour train from Naples to Rome, followed by a night in the very dodgy area around Termini Station, followed by a four-hour train from Rome to Pisa.  In this process, Lauren managed to drop the bottle of wine she'd purchased as a gift.  It bounced and, in delight, I picked in up because I'd never seen glass bounce before.  This is of course when the bottle shattered all over my legs, my bag and my clothes.  I spent the journey smelling like a wino.

Which is not the most auspicious ending of a trip to Italy.  Then again, we did consume a lot of wine so maybe it was fitting.

Capri and Positano

On one of our remaining days in sun shining paradise, Lauren, Rosa and I hopped a boat to the island of Capri, home of the Caprese salad and a whole lot of flashy money.  Our ferry boat made frequent stops to the various villages on the Amalfi Coast before finally shuttling us across to Capri.

We were met with yachts in a range of sizes upon arrival and after wandering up a steep hill, we found our way to the centre.  It was underwhelming.  I mean the view was delicious but it was covered in tourists--the ones who go in to jewelry shops to show how capable they are of dropping a small fortune on a tiny piece of bling.  In fact, the centre was chock full; we jostled shoulder to shoulder.  Until the cruise ship arrived.  Then it was impossible to ignore the horde of middle-aged American women arguing with waiters who didn't speak their language about how they wanted their Caprese without tomatoes (therefore, not a Caprese salad) and their champagne extra chilled.

the skyward view shows the nice bits of central Capri

We got out, quick, and headed down to one of the beaches, near Marina Piccola (I think). This involved boarding a mini-bus that resembled the Older Person's Centre white minibus including wheelchair lift.  It struggled to navigate winding twists to the ocean but once it did, we were in for a view:

We sweated nicely in the sun and battled the occasional jellyfish before retiring back to our ferry boat for a stop in Positano on the way back to Amalfi.  My machinations of Positano were drawn from the film version of 'Under the Tuscan Sun' where Diane Lane's character has an affair with a dishy Italian man who perpetually wears well fitting linen suits.

Our encounters with Italian men proved this to be fallacy but that didn't stop the town from being pretty charming.  The sun started to go down so we wandered the pedestrian-only cobbles and poked our heads into shops selling ceramics, posh yacht clothing or tourist-type bracelets, earrings and temporary tattoos.  It was cute, really.

view from the top

But at the end of the day, I think we got lucky with our accommodation and positioning in Amalfi.  It was somehow quieter, somehow perfectly sized and as it went, we made friends with the owner of a gelato shop there.  Now there's a good friend to have.

Ravello, Furore and surroundings

On our third day of the trip, we gathered the courage to remove our car from parking impound and take to the roads.  I had nothing to do with the driving and preferred it this way.

Ravello
Up in the hills northeast of Amalfi lies the stunning village of Ravello.  Its location on the cliffs of the area lend to spectacular views which is precisely what we found after turning a corner through a non-descript tunnel.

the tunnel

I've never given much thought to where I might one day like to get married.  But, without looking, I found it.  So we sat and drank 5 euro glasses of prosecco decorated with a skewer of strawberries and soaked up one of those brilliant travel moments that you can't plan.

And a further wander down the road led us to a sculpture garden where we couldn't resist being entirely childish:

Anonymous areas along the coast

My memory is failing me and I cannot remember the names of the other small towns and villages were frequented.  This does not detract from their beauty.  Lunch spot cliffside: 

the home of ceramic everything 

another typical view 

Furore 

Our last stop in our little day tour took us to the village of Furore.  This is an entirely misleading statement because we never really 'found' the village.  We did however, keep finding this sign:

Much later on, I discovered that a village doesn't exist at all.  What we did find was the bridge that was housed above the mini-chasm over the fjord of Furore.  So we did what any smart tourist does and found a lay-by on the side of the dangerously curving road, ran across the street hoping to not get hit by a car going around the blind corner and snapped some shots.

If I ever find the names of those not-so-anonymous villages, I'll come back and update.  I'm not holding my breath but I do have the odd moment of clarity when I'm on a teaching hiatus. 

Amalfi

I've saved this for far too long to blog.  All I can say is that Amalfi is worth every bit of the hype.  Minus the obnoxious American tourists.

The view from the road gave us a lot to look forward to.  We were flanked by the Mediterranean on one side and ancient village on the other:

The village itself is laid out with one longish pedestrian thoroughfare that lead to little cobbled sidestreets that go up narrow stairs into narrower alleyways.  If you imagine a fishbone, that's kind of how the streets are laid out.  To use a very American word, the village was quaint.  We quickly discovered a gelateria and set ourselves the gelato challenge--gelato every day ONLY if we experimented with different flavours until our last day where we could  have whatever we wanted.

This led to some crazy experimentation which included making friends with the owner and his 20-something crew.  This led to an after-hours limoncello party, romantical walks around the piazza and a motorcycle ride into the hills.

That aside, the village itself was beautiful.  We picked an excellent base for our Amalfi coast wanderings:

The Cathedral

morality messages 

Free breakfast in the square

gigantic plate or tiny head?

Hard not to fall in love. 

The Amalfi Coast

The Amalfi Coast on the Southwest side of Italy happens to be one of those places that is as big as the hype suggests.  It boasts a series of stunning cliffside views, perilously winding roads and, most importantly, family run gelato shops.  Unfortunately it's awash with tourists--mostly the loud card carrying American types whose knowledge of travel extends to the stereotypes that the roads are better in America, the food is better in America, the hotels are better in America.  It makes me tired, this portrayal. If it's so much better, stay in America.    

Alas.  Back in May 2012, the lovely Lauren from my high school clarinetting days came to visit.  She brought Nutterbutters.  She left loud ethnocentrism at home.  This is why I like her. 

We picked up Rosa along the way and hopped a flight to Naples, the apparent armpit of Italy.  One car hire and a veer through the steep, mountained hills later, we found ourselves at our accommodation, a B&B perched high on one city wall or another.  

Our view:  

And then we mapped out a route in, up and around to the surrounding villages.  The village of Amalfi itself was probably the most picturesque, with colourful houses built into the steep cliffs and a small beach.  Having left 12 degrees and rain, we basked in the 23-degree sun. 

And then we dug our car out of the 20-euro a day parking spot and made our way to the villages of Ravello, Furore, Positano et al.  Our favourite spot boasted 5 euro glasses of prosecco and strawberries perched high in the air.

Pictures are slow on the upload which is what happens when you use the free wifi at Foyles along with the rest of the trendies/cheapskates.  Slowly, slowly. 

Gran Canaria

I'm writing this post in 2013 but backdating it to the chronological time that I should have documented this post, if that makes sense.  Meaning...I neither wrote this post in June 2012 nor travelled to Gran Canaria in June 2012, rather February 2012 but i'll throw my entire traveling season out of kilter if I date it in either way.

Yep, confused.

Now I didn't have high expectations of a trip to Grand Canary, mostly due to the fact that it's known as Britain's haven for tans, cheap English breakfasts, cheap English beer drinking and more winter (or summer, come to think of it) sun than anyone could shake a stick at.  Unfortunately, during my five-day stay on the biggest Canary Island, the only rumor we dispelled was the sun one.  

It wasn't the most well planned of trips, to be honest.  Rosa and her flatmates (two Canadians and a Brit) planned it and I jumped along for the ride.  This is how we ended up in a villa (cute rooms) full of Scandinavian families, one buffet that served Chinese/Indian/Spanish/Italian food (with picture menus to match just in case you forgot how to read), one on-resort shop and a pool that was about 5 miles away from any sort of civilization. No, seriously. I took a walk one day and the most exciting thing I found was a petrol station selling snacks that we didn't have on the 'resort'.  

From time to time, the sun came out and then the breeze blew clouds that blocked it.  This didn't stop goose bumped topless Scandinavian mothers from stretching languidly on beach chairs.  Or kids bombing themselves into the pool whilst we bravely tried to replenish our vitamin D supplies whilst shivering under towels.  

We did make the best of it though.  This revolved mostly around two things: 1. hiring a car for the day and pointing to things in the distance and then driving to them.  2. playing drinking games like we were half-flunked out college students.  Actually, come to think of it, a couple of Rosa's flatmates did act a lot like totally-flunked out college students.  

I've got a few pictures but due to this google images 1G of space fatwa (see entry from December 2012 in reference to this), it's a massive pain in the bum.  Thus, the two pictures I have on my phone go up.  There from our lone day trip to Las Palmas in the North of the island, a brief glimmering joy of a day trip. Before the rain, of course.  

So my verdict--do your research before you decide where to go/what to do in Gran Canaria.  I'm sure we didn't get an authentic feel for the island; considering we heard more Swedish than Spanish, I'd say that's a dead cert. And check the weather--islands off the west coast of Africa aren't always what they appear to be...