Sorrento!

It seemed like the whole 51 people on our tour wanted nothing but to sleep on the first morning, many having gone out till 2am - some had not even been to bed. So the first hour and a bit to Sorrento was good. Even stopping for food and drinks for the mandatory driver break was fine. But a riot almost started when Katia, our Contiki mumma, wanted to play games. Kinda like speed dating, everyone in an aisle seat had to stand up and move down two seats to meet someone new. I was sceptical at first but put in the effort. Unfortunately some were too tired or just not interested. This was followed by an Italian phrase lesson, which for the ladies included a cast away line to ward off unsolicited attention from the “Italian stallions“.
The three-hour trip to Naples didn’t take long at all and perhaps the most tedious part was winding our way up impossibly narrow streets to the hilltop resort-esque town. Fabio, our driver, seemed to take it with ease, even with the kamikaze oncoming traffic. So narrow were the streets in Sorrento proper we had to walk 10 minutes to our hotel while our luggage was transferred - still this was luxury to some of our own transfers earlier in the trip. We found the hotel to be a pleasant surprise too, all new fittings and very clean. We dumped our bags in the room and our TV remote (which you are given at reception with the key) and went for lunch as a group. The café-restaurant was perched on a cliff at least 100m above the water, like most of the town is. We were guiltily glad it tailored to tourists too, so I could order a steak and dodge some of the carbs. Alysia ordered a hamburger. We got to know a couple of Canadians from the night before. A clear, haze free sky, would have made it a near a perfect lunch.
“Shot, shot-shot-shot, shot shot,” Katia sang from some US song on the pop charts. It was time to go and sample the real limoncello. In the back of the shop a couple of old Italian guys were peeling lemons, putting the rind into a vat of pure alcohol, where it stews for a few days. I thought they would just ferment the skins but then I’m probably naive. At 30 per cent it’s certainly strong enough but maybe one needs to develop an appreciation for it, because I wasn’t fussed. The crème version was certainly more appealing.
That afternoon many people went to the “beach” but I was happy to leave Alysia to relax by the pool while I went to do some laundry. Mundane? Yes, but holidays, or adventures, can’t always be exciting. The empty coin laundry was an unexpected place of solace, a place to relax and digest the past few days.
Many of the group had opted into a pizza night but we decided to do our own thing. We walked out of the hotel lobby turned left and took a seat in the courtyard of a restaurant. The clam spaghetti I had as a first was quite good and the chicken cacciatore was even better - it was a real home cooked-style meal which was just what I needed. I theorised with Alysia it was perhaps the sort of meal an Italian might come home to at the end of the day, a hearty casserole, perhaps a little tongue in cheek. Her green gnocci pesto with salmon was equally welcomed.
Afterward we scoped out a nearby pharmacy for some sunscreen but at near 20 euros we walked on only to find the supermarket closed. So it was back to the room for some rest and a little blogging. Tomorrow we were going to Capri, the town of the VIP.
Sam (August 20)