Barbara's Travel Blog

Ciao, Ciao!

As I sit on the hydrofoil waiting to depart for Capri, I feel both sad to be leaving Ischia, and excited for the adventures to come in Capri and Positano over the next few days. It’s funny how in just a week and a half, Hotel Romantica and the little town of Sant Angelo have come to feel like home.

Though barely anyone spoke English there, we did make friends with Francesca, the incredibly hard-working, helpful, and friendly woman at reception, and Anielo, the middle-aged waiter who has worked at the hotel since he was 14, and is now attempting to learn English. He comes to work at 5am and leaves at 11pm every day, seven days a week - yet he always has a smile for us.

And while most of the other guests keep to themselves, Erik, Lenore and I have our favorites we love to talk about: The two old ladies who know everyone - one is quiet and regal, the other mouthy and garish, but both are adorable; the freak who makes the weird cat noises at the spa; the girl who pulls her swimsuit up her butt crack to get a better tan; the young guy with the funny swagger; the couple who secretly fed the stray cats every night - a duty that we took over upon their departure; the German guy who’s mean to the cats; and so on.

Most of all, I’ll miss the beauty of this charming little island that somehow has escaped the attention of the hordes of American tourists that seem to dominate and often defile so much of Italy. As Erik so succinctly put it, “This is as quaint as all freaking get out.”

The boat is moving now, and out the window I spy the Castello de Ischia; now the island is behind me. And so I say good-bye to Ischia, and hello to Capri. Ciao, ciao!

Il Giorno Misto (a day of variety)

Yesterday was a well-timed break from our usual spa/pool/food routine. After more than a week of R&R, the gang was ready for a little adventure, so we headed out to explore the island in a teeny-tiny rent-a-car. As the most fearless (or some might say foolish) among us, I was the designated driver of the day. And let me just say, everything they say about Italian drivers is true. Mama mia! But in spite of frighteningly narrow streets, competing for space with full-sized city buses, reckless scooter riders whizzing by us non-stop, blind hairpin curves, confusing road signs and a strange noise coming from our engine, we managed to circle the entire island, taking in many sites along the way – and even driving on the sidewalk once!

Our first stop of the day was the 10-meter high “mushroom” in the bay of Lacco. It is said that this massive stone fell off Monte Epomeo (here’s hoping no one was swimming in its path!), and it has long been the most recognizable symbol of the town. The town launched a project in 1987 to protect the precious mushroom, which was being eroded by wind, sea and rain – and threatening what is surely their biggest tourist draw.

Next we headed to the Castello d’Ischia – a mighty castle fortress that towers 800 meters above the town of Ischia Ponte, on its own isoletto, which is connected to the main island via a 227-meter causeway. The castle was used for centuries as a strategic defence for the gulf of Naples, and housed hundreds of island residents when pirates made life on Ischia a tad unpleasant for, say, a couple hundred years. The castle complex includes a church and a nunnery, which has a creepy history of questionable death that makes me even less likely to become a nun than ever before. Aside from the creepy ostuary though (see photo album for more info), the rest of the Castello d’Ischia is beautiful and serene, and offers endless opportunities for photos straight off a postcard.

After cooling off over an air-conditioned lunch in Ischia Ponte, we set off for Monte Epomeo – the highest peak on Ischia. Rising 800 meters above the sea, the top of this ancient volcano offers amazing 360-degree views that go all the way to Capri and Naples on a clear day. We drove about two-thirds up the mountain, then hiked the steepest part on foot (unfortunately, in the hottest and most humid part of the day). The view at the top was well worth it though, as you might guess from the zillions of photos in my album. Amazingly enough, there’s a church and a restaurant near the top of the mountain – imagine making that commute every day!

And finally, we finished off the day with dinner at a spontaneously selected restaurant we spotted from the road. It was half castle, half giant rock – an architecture that’s actually quite common in Ischia. Apparently, around the II century AD, following a series of cataclysms and earthquakes, enormous blocks of stone fell from Monte Epomeo. Later, the island’s residents created shelters for themselves in these stones when they sought refuge from marauding pirates, converting them into homes, warehouses, cellars and even churches. On the inside, they look just like regular buildings!

On a side note, I’m pleased to report that I’m starting to pick up enough Italian to be able to communicate somewhat functionally now – which is especially helpful in light of the fact that Erik, Lenore and I are the only Americans staying at Hotel Romantica! And after the incident with Dr. Strangelove (see previous blog entry for background, if needed), I decided “mime” wasn’t quite working out as my primary means of communication.

I’m loving Italy and am excited to head to Capri on Sunday, but I just want to say that I miss all my friends and family back home, and wish you could be sharing this experience with me. And Gnorley misses you too!

~Barbara

Grimace and Bear it

After nearly a week in Italy, I am coming to accept that my name is no longer “Ms. Grimes,” but now is “Mrs. Grimace” – at least, that’s how the Italians pronounce it. I just wish someone would introduce me to my husband!

This morning Erik, Lenore, Gnorley and I set off on the trail we normally take to town, but this time we headed uphill instead of down, to see just how far up the mountain we could go. The very steep path starts in town as about a one-lane road, narrows after about a quarter mile to the width of a sidewalk, then after our hotel goes to a narrow paved path, and finally about a mile up the mountain it becomes an unpaved trail. There are homes all along the path, right up to the end, where we found a home and a small vineyard. The homes are carved into the steep stone walls of the island (see photo for one of the coolest examples of this I’ve found so far). There are also shops in town that are similarly carved into the rock.

The town is small but has enough restaurants and shops to keep us busy for the week and a half we’re here. We’ve witnessed all kinds of interesting goings-on in town, but one of the most memorable so far was a public display of affection that exceeded all expectations. Over dinner one night, Lenore and I spied an Italian couple who were clearly smitten with each other – so much so that the woman felt it necessary to lick (yes, lick) her companion’s hand quite aggressively over a period of about 10 minutes. Now, I’m not talking a gentle lick, a dainty dab of the tongue – this was a veritable hand bath of the most thorough kind. And as if that wasn’t enough, they then started a full-on make out session right at the table, with no shortage of heavy petting. It was quite the show!

Tonight we’re headed by microtaxi (pronounced “meeeecro-taxi”) to the nearby town of Forio, to scope out new restaurants and see if there may indeed by night life on this tiny island. St. Angelo, while charming, isn’t exactly a hotbed of excitement. We’ll also see if they have a store with an appealing supply of caftanis (the cute swimsuit cover-ups all the women here seem to wear, and that Lenore and I now covet).

Fango My Fandango

After a few days here in Ischia, Erik, Lenore and I have figured out our way around and settled into a nice routine of sorts. A typical day consists of breakfast, spa treatments, lunch, pool time, then a trek into town for evening shopping and dinner. We mix this up a bit with the occasional hike, water taxi to a nearby town, etc.

The spa treatments are a great way to ease into the day… you wander in kind of drowsy and half-asleep, then proceed to get coated in mud, massaged, pedicured, facialed, etc. The massages have improved from my first day, though they still can’t compete with the ones I’ve had in the U.S. But then again, they’re not costing nearly as much!

The fango treatment (or “fandango,” as Lenore likes to call it) was interesting, but not something I feel compelled to try again. Basically, you strip down to your birthday suit in front of some massive, hairy Italian guy, hop up onto a table that has a giant pile of extremely hot mud on it (hence the big guy – women apparently aren’t strong enough to move around the heavy mud), then lay down and he proceeds to coat your body in the hot mud. He then bundles you up in blankets and leaves you to cook for about a half hour, occasionally returning to gently wipe the sweat off your face (unexpected, from the giant ape of a man). After you’ve adequately “fangoed,” he then puts you in a shower to get most of the mud off, and uses a high-pressure hose to get the rest, esp. those hard-to-reach areas (I kid you not). Anyway, I didn’t notice feeling any different after the fango, so I don’t think I’ll be shelling out any more cash for that one again.

Aside from the spa, the pools here are what really sell the place. There are 13 of them, most of which are in a large area with great views and lots of lounge chairs – this is where we spend most of our afternoons. The pools vary in temperature, and include a couple cool Japanese pools with funky rocks and bubbles.

That’s Dr. Strangelove, To You

Unfortunately, the food at our hotel doesn’t even begin to compare to that of yesterday’s lunch. We had hoped dinner last night was just a fluke, but lunch today reinforced it – gak! We were getting a bit discouraged, but today our faith in the Romantica is restored after having spent hours lounging in and around the hotel’s thirteen (!) pools. A couple are regular chlorinated pools, but the rest use the natural thermal spring water the island is famous for, all at varying temperatures. Magnifico!

My first experience at the spa this morning landed somewhere in between the dining and pool experiences on the satisfaction scale, but tops the “oh yeah, we’re definitely in a foreign land” chart. Before getting any spa treatments, guests are supposed to consult with the on-staff doctor, so I arrived bright and early this morning for my expert medical analysis. Now, I’m generally a pretty open-minded person, but right off the bat I had my doubts. I mean, putting a long white coat on some cigarette-smoking, jeans-wearing, gold-medallion-necklace-sporting Italian stallion does not a doctor make.

Upon looking at my schedule of spa treatments for the week, he immediately became visibly disturbed. There was clearly some issue with my “fango” plans (a mud pack treatment that the spa is apparently known for). Unfortunately, he was unable to express the exact nature of said concern using the roughly four English words he knew. Thirty minutes, a visit downstairs to the lady that runs the spa, and a call to the reception desk later, I learned that the issue was that I only had one fango treatment booked – a travesty!

After booking another session and agreeing to consider more sessions if I liked it, we returned back upstairs for my actual examination. The “doctor” pulled out a blood pressure cuff (apparently the standard exam consists solely of a blood pressure reading) and at this point I felt it appropriate to mention that I have high blood pressure – which I conveyed both verbally and by patting my heart with my hand. Now, I recognize in hindsight that my mistake was trying to communicate at all, because what exactly I was expecting to get out of this exchange I have no idea. But either not understanding what I was saying, or seeing an opportunity, he then instructed me to remove my shirt and bra for a more thorough examination.

In my own defense, let me say that I had my doubts at this point – I may be gullible, but I’m not stupid. But you’d be surprised how thoroughly your will can be worn down after 45 minutes of trying unsuccessfully to communicate with people who don’t speak your language. So I sighed, reminded myself I’m in Europe (everyone gets naked here, right?), and bared (nearly) all. My esteemed medical practitioner then proceeded to listen to my heart – through my right breast. The man is a medical wonder, I tell you. You can imagine my relief when he proclaimed me just fine, and sent me on my way.

As for the spa treatments themselves, I’m reserving judgment for now. My pedicure was better than most, but the anti-stress massage was a bit more of an extended oil application than an actual massage. Hopefully the therapeutic and shiatsu massages I have scheduled later in the week will be a bit more intense.

The Long and Winding Road

We arrived in Ischia yesterday afternoon, after a lengthy train, taxi, ferry and then another taxi ride. We were rather impressed by our cab driver’s negotiation skills on the first taxi trip… upon arriving at the ferry terminal in Napoli, a line of cars was in our way – apparently tourists who didn’t know where they belonged. He walked to the front and quickly negotiated with about 15 different drivers to move out of our way, then skirted between cars with only about an inch to spare on each side of our van, positioning us in a prime spot to get on the next ferry. The second leg in the taxi was a little hairy though – about 45 minutes on curvy, steep roads to get to the other side of the island from where the ferry dropped us off. That was good fun on an empty stomach. :P

Checking in at the hotel in Ischia, we were informed that all of our many questions (where is the spa? When is breakfast served? How can we get into town? Etc. etc. etc.) would be answered in the information binder in our rooms. Right... After an extensive read-through of the provided materials, we (or rather, Lenore, our begrudgingly designated communicator) called reception and tried our hardest to get the receptionist to explain how we could find our way into town. After several confused phone calls and a slightly treacherous trek through a garden shed, we settled on an 8-Euro taxi into town. (Later Erik did manage to find the path, which takes a whopping three minutes, so that’s the last of the taxis).

The town is quaint – very small, with no cars in the core part of the village, just small cobblestone-ish roads for foot traffic that wind through steep cliffs, with shops literally carved into the stone (see photo). We took the receptionist’s recommendation and dined at the lovely seaside “Neptuna” restaurant. I can’t say this enough: The food was utterly phenomenal. We were attempting to decipher the menu, when the waiter came over and poured us free sparkling white wine and said he’d bring food out and if we liked it, great, if we didn’t, we could send it back. That sounded good to us, so just a couple minutes later he started bringing dish after dish after dish of amazing food. Fresh tomatoes and mozzarella… a light salad with fresh shrimp… the most tender muscles and calamari I’ve ever tasted… sautéed mushrooms… the list goes on and on. I can’t imagine better food, and to top it off Erik and I shared the best piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted. Mmmm!

The only down side was the increasingly amorous (and decreasingly subtle) overtures I endured by our waiter throughout the meal. At first it was sweet, then it was slightly irritating, and by the end I didn’t know whether to laugh or take a shower (or at least give my cheek a good scrubbing). Lenore valiantly defended my honor – making it clear that no, he would not be going back to my hotel with me as offered – but even she could not stop the determination of this man, who went so far as running across the room and interrupting me mid-scratch to relieve my itchy back himself. Boy, those Italians really know how to woo a girl!

You Say Gnocchi, I Say Guh-noshe

I’m on the train from Rome to Napoli (aka Naples) now, with Lenore, Erik and Gnorley in tow (see photo). For those of you who don’t know Erik & Lenore, they are my dear friends from Seattle, whose wedding I performed last year; they’ll be with me in Italy until Sept. 16. And if you don’t know Gnorley – well, that’s a tragedy really. Gnorley is a legend… an enigma… a little rubber gnome. He has traveled extensively with his primary keeper, April (of chocolate wrestling fame), and is now taking his first European adventure with me.

I got into Rome safe and sound yesterday, though predictably tired (much less so though thanks to the aforementioned shower in Frankfurt). After checking into my hotel (a free night at the Ambra Palace, thanks to my travel writing gig) and interviewing the hotel manager, I then met up with Erik and Lenore at the fancy schmancy St. Regis Grand Hotel. We then headed over to the Pantheon (which was closed, sadly) and onto dinner at a nearby restaurant where we enjoyed (shock of all shocks) some fine Italian fare. Unfortunately, my craving for gnocchi was not satisfied, as apparently yesterday was the first day back from Italy’s month-long August holiday period, and there wasn’t enough time to prepare the labor-intensive gnocchi dumplings.

This morning before the train ride I attempted to get online with the wireless hotspot at the Termini train station in Rome, but spent about a half hour just trying to find it. Imagine the looks of confusion when you try to ask the info desk staffers where exactly the train station’s free wi-fi can be found. I finally came upon a signal using my hotspot finder (a little electronic device – very handy), but it turned out to be a pay-for-play hotspot, and at that point I was already five minutes late to meet Erik & Lenore on platform eight. Oh well, maybe next time!

Once we arrive in Napoli, our hotel has arranged to have a driver meet us on the train platform (hopefully preventing any potential confused flailing about that might have otherwise ensued), then take us to the hydrofoil and over to Ischia to our next hotel (the Romantica Spa & Hotel). We’ll be there for about a week and a half, relaxing by the 11 of the hotel’s 13 pools that are “not suitable for children,” lazing about on the beach, getting massages and other spa treatments, and generally just being lazy bums. Rough life, eh? =)