A Little Bit of Me

Jottings and Writing, miscellanous misgivings


Ah joy. Found the no5 bus. It deposits us in Ercolano after a disjointed drive with cars blocking the route. Much tooting, arm waving and sighing.
Our pool has two distinct areas. Where people usually sit , under the shade of large Mediterranean pine trees the marble tiles are populated by very large, angry, black ants. They form long columns and occasionally you will see a fight to the death as two three solders have it out. The corpse is then dragged away to be turned onto some sort of food (I suppose). Along the side of the pool there are terracotta tiles and here the ants are smaller, and dont fight or kill as much. They also have a remarkable ability to transport large crumbs across the tiles to their nests. Reminds me of tourists in Florence and Venice but today is going to be a turning point. I’ll explain.
Rico met us at the stazione, quiet accidently. He is a final year Med student and before he starts 2orking is doing a cycling tour of southern Italy. Has not been here before and, like me, finds it hard to understand and be understood with the dialect spoken in these parts. Wrong train to Sorrento, good guard informed us. Got off at Lorenzio and there he was,? NORTHERN ITALIAN. That’s good. They sort of rule Italy
Med student , EVEN BETTER. A Thoroughly nice man.
Has been in NZ. BETTER STILL. Spent some time in Queenstown as an exchange student.
We are doing the Amalfi coast via Sorrento and the Amalfi coast. Arrive in Sorrento and its pandemonium. Wall to wall tourists all rushing for the ferry which is down a thousand steps in the port. I don’t realise that there is a time limit and am meandering about but shewhomustbeobeyed is getting increasingly anxious that we will miss the 1030 sailing. The queues for Capri ferry are a hundred metres long and not moving. It looks like we will miss the Sorrento furry but we stroll on without a ticket (the ferry is running on Italian time. Packed to the gunwales with happy tourists who all seem to be taking selfies with the stunning coast as a backdrop. We arrive at Positrano and, for some reason, must slight while the ferry continues down the coast. The place is teeming and it seems that a lot of people stay here as their bags are transported to the wharf by semi nude Italian male models. We catch a smaller ferry to Amalfi and the cliff top mansions and hotels are a sight to behold. Again selfies and over eager tourists snapping everything in sight. Amalfi is a nightmare. Tourists and tat. The main street is almost impassable with brightly clad bodies, shops selling overpriced rubbish and scooters and cars weaving between bodies. We fond a nice little out of the way restaurant and are tucking into pasta when a tourist group arrives and loudly take over the place. Oh well the food was good!
We decide to forsake the ferry back and take the bus. I remember that this stretch of road has featured in films before and from the ferry it looked interesting. Straight away I can see its going to be an experience. The road is narrow, twisted, drops of thousands of feet on one side and solid rock wall on the other. The driver should have some sort of medal for the way he effortlessly negotiates not only the terrain, but other drivers, scooters, cars and, more importantly, other buses. At times I would not have been able to put a finger between the respective mirrors of the buses. It has to rate as one of the most exciting rides I have ever taken.
We pull into St Antoine station as a man publically urinates in the bushes off the platform. He clumsily puts his organ back in his pants with some difficulty as he picks his plastic bag of bottles and dirty clothing and lurches into our carriage. He then spends about ten minutes making sure he has indeed got everything tucked away while he carries on a conversation with an imaginary friend.
Paula and Henry have recovered their bags and their trip to Amalfi is over. She, liver eyes, he varicose veined though he is impossibly handsome. It seemed to both of them that they has missed something. The guidebook was full of praise nut Henry is mentally tallying up the bill and Paula hopes that her face have not been ravaged too much by that merciless sun. . Small luggage, though Vespa .leather bag an d ,locked suitcases. They examine a map. No24 Napoli. She wriggles, he squirms. It’s a train from Sorrento to Naples darling. Pederasts, drug smugglers, ethopian teeth grinders. We miss our stop. ECOLARNO with graffito. Oh!!! Ours doesn’t have the graffito. €25 TO GETTA YRS HOME. GET LOST. But I end up paying €20 anyway.
An exhausting day and I most definitely do not want to see Capri to tomorrow which Alison has set her heart on. What does one do when the thought of repeating the bus, the train, the crowds, to see the Blue Grotto which could be closed or so full of tourists taking selfies that my day will be like a nightmare from hell.20160926_224620.jpg


No comments yet»

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: