A trip to southern Italy III

Day 3

"She is so beautiful, she needs three men!"

This is what a Naples dress shop owner said about Jarmila as we browsed through his wares.

I wasn't present when he said it, else I would've said this one man is more than she can handle, or something similarly macho.

But the ladies in that store simply fawned over Jarmila, bringing dress after dress for her to try on. She even modelled dresses that she herself didn't like because the ladies just wanted to see how she looked in them – their Barbie doll brought to life.

The store was one that Giovanna frequents, and as a matter of logistics Jarmila and I were accompanying her before she dropped us off at the port for the ferry ride down to Amalfi.

In the end, Jarmila bought a cool and unique dress that she'll always have as a souvenir. Unfortunately for me, the men's section was pitiful, which I think is a recurring theme in Neapolitan shops – they cater to the women, with the men being an afterthought.

After the dress store, Giovanna had to run an errand so we split up and agreed to meet at the car. Ten minutes later we got back to the car and a Sri Lankan man was standing there waiting for us. He told us there was a problem with out car, and sure enough, there were scratches, scrapes, and large dents on the rear of Giovanna's auto.

We nervously waited – our ferry was leaving soon, and we were concerned about the car as well – until Giovanna arrived. We showed her the dents but she waved them off, saying, "Those are old. No problem!"

(Indeed, the Napolese are so disarmingly unconcerned about their cars because fender benders there are exceedingly common. In fact, on the first day as we taxied to Giovanna's, our driver ground the front fender of his new taxi into a parked car. Of course he cursed, but it was of such little concern for him that he didn't even leave a note on the car he had dented and scratched so badly.)

We caught the ferry with time to spare.

A trip to Southern Italy, Part II

Day 2

While giving us very useful advice on what to do and see in Naples, Nicolas scribbled so much information on our map that it was rendered almost unusable. An idea would come to him and somewhere on the map he'd write a name, draw an arrow, circle an area, list what kind of fish to eat or what kind of wine to avoid, which museums were worthwhile... In short, he was an overflowing fountain of information, and with the options presented us, we felt badly we had only two days to visit around Naples.

One of the pieces of advice that we did manage was to visit the island of Procida, visible from Giovanna's spacious and elegant balcony. We were advised that the island, while not the most spectacular in terms of scenery, had resisted the onslaught of tourism and retained its age-old tradition of fishermen leaving every morning and returning with their catch in the evening. There was also a lovely abbey to visit.

To get to Procida, we first took the slowest train in the history of locomotion from Naples to the end station Pouzoulli, and then hoofed it down to the harbor. When we arrived, a huge ferry was being loaded with vans and trucks. We approached the harried head honcho and asked if we could take his boat out to Procida.

"No! No space," he barked, shooing us out of the way of an onloading semi-truck.

Disconcerted, we lingered around for a few moments before deciding to approach someone else. The second man welcomed us aboard and asked for our tickets. We didn't have any. He pointed to the ticket kiosk about a kilometer away and then looked at his watch. We'd never make it. He talked to the head honcho, who looked us over and then waved us aboard. Confused, we looked at the ticket-taker, who waved us past.

Score one for the stupid tourists - we got a free boat ride!

The most telling point regarding the lack of tourists on Procida came when we got off the ferry in its harbor. We were the only two to disembark, and the head honcho yelled at us in a commanding voice – "Hey, this is Procida, not Ischia!"

"Si, si, si," we yelled back. Seems we were in the right place if we wanted some peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, it was a bit too quiet when we got there. All the stores lining the harbor were closed for their siesta, so we headed to the beach and overpaid for some beachchairs on the seaside. I pushed the deal through because I didn't want to sit on the sand with just one towel between us, and the price we paid – €16 for two hours – still gets Jarmilka all fired up.

We rested on the beach for a couple hours and then headed back to the harbor to rent a scooter. It was such a simple affair – no security deposit, no credit card number – just my driver's license number and the cash up front. The woman asked €25 for two hours, but I gave her the silent treatment for a moment and she countered with €20. (A very cool thing about Italy – most prices are open to negotiation.)

Boom, we had wheels.

We headed up the cobbled streets and away from the harbor, wrong-turning our way through historic districts hundreds of years old, children running in front of us, old men and women watching the goings-on from their stoops beside the road, stray dogs, dented cars, girls dressed up for a stroll, all in the late-afternoon heat of southern Italy.

The Abbey of San. Michel, the archangel, lies at the top of a very steep, two-sided cliff overlooking the sea. And though our scooter was relatively powerful, it almost petered out when faced with the last climb (Jarmila almost had to bail off).

We ignored the no entrance sign (only with a permit could motor vehicles pass) and were rewarded with a trip into the past. The Abbey, which dates from 1026, has been continuously inhabited since then, a fact illustrated by the trappings of both antiquity and modernity - the buildings are roughly hewn but wondrous, and the cobbled streets are dotted with cars and scooters. A woman carrying a basket of laundry ambled by, chatting away on a mobile phone.

There were satellite dishes on balconies and on the sides of buildings.

We found an overlook and sparred over who would get to take photos, and then we had to hustle to get the 20:30 ferry back to the mainland.

The sunset was divine, and once we arrived back at Giovanna's, Nicolas broke out his coveted white wine and we enjoyed a lovely evening of conversation before bedtime.

A trip to southern Italy, Part I

Days 1-2

"We live here with more passion," said Nicolas, the adult son of our Italian host Giovanna and her English husband Albert. It was Sunday morning and we had just arrived at their bed and breakfast in the Naples suburb of Posillipo.

"The soil in Campania is so fertile," he continued, "that it fills the foods grown here with extra flavor, extra..." he searched for the correct word, but couldn't find it.

"You know what I mean, don't you," he asked, giving me a double-handed, shrugged shoulders gesture.

It is often said that Italians punctuate their speech with their hands, but in Naples and Amalfi, I observed something more – they actually punctuate their speech with the entire upper body. Shoulders shrugs, head movements and hand gestures all complement their words, as if the English language is simply not adequate to convey the richness of their ideas.

Anyways, I wasn't exactly sure what Nicolas meant, but I still agreed with him. Pleased at our mutual understanding, he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Now you simply must try this," he said, as he rummaged through the refrigerator. He took out a plate of freshly caught shrimp, bright red and with all their appendages. He peeled two for Jarmila and me as he explained that Mount Vesuvius not only makes the soil extremely fertile, but the sea more nutrient-rich as well.

He placed the uncooked shrimp on a plate, followed by a touch of olive oil, salt, and fresh pepper.

The delicacy of the flavors were immediately recognizable, and Nicolas loved that we appreciated it.

We retired to our room to freshen up and when we returned, Giovanna, who we later learned often appears on television cooking shows, had prepared a breakfast for us. Crispy flat bread on a plate, smothered with olive oil, tomatoes, mozzarella and garlic. Cappucinno. Fresh orange juice. Sweets. Fruits.

It was simply divine, and with apologies to my mother and mother-in-law, it was the best food I've eaten in years. Nicolas was right about the flavors of the food – the tomatoes were bursting with ripeness, the mozarrella was made from buffalo milk and so had an extra dash of... something, and the olive oil was more flavourful than any I'd ever had.

We had stumbled into a gourmet's kitchen, and for the rest of our stay enjoyed not only lovely food, but Nicolas would later break out his stock of fine white wine from the cellar. It was stored in a 10 liter jug which he lovingly poured into smaller jugs, bottles and a carafe which he shared with us on our last night as we all sat around speaking about life.

And though I realize I'm raving only about the yummies, it was only a small fraction of the hospitality that we enjoyed with that family. They were extremely open, friendly, funny, and helpful, which added to our overall sense of well-being.

Giovanna even spent two afternoons with us, showing us places in Naples that non-natives rarely venture to, for which we are extremely grateful.

If you ever plan a trip to Naples, do yourself a favor and try to arrange accommodation at www.posillipodream.it.

And tell them Jim and Jarmila said hello.