5.02.2011
So Close, Yet So Far
If you were to look at a map of Europe you would think that one could travel from the south of Italy to Croatia with ease. You would, however be dead wrong if you thought that. The journey from Ischia to Split, Croatia takes a minimum of fourteen hours, not including down time between busses, trains, and ferries, and a sleepover if necessary. For this particular trip, I left Ischia at 10am and arrived in Naples at 11:15am, to catch a 12:30pm train to Rome. Arriving in Rome at 1:45 (I took the fast train), I had to wait for the next train to Ancona, which left Rome at 4pm and arrived in Ancona at 8:40pm. Once in Ancona I stayed in a hostel and waited to catch the fast ferry which departed at 11:30am the next morning. So there I was, 25 and a half hours since I left Ischia, exhausted, and finally boarding a ferry only to wait another five hours to arrive in Croatia. On the train from Rome to Ancona, I began to get a bit nervous. Not quite sure why, just one of those uncomfortable feelings you feel deep in your gut, that somehow whispers to your heart that it should start beating faster, which tells your brain that it should think more than it normally does, which in turn screams back to your gut to be more uncomfortable, setting the whole cycle in motion, annoyingly once more. Yeah, that one. That was what I was feeling on the train to Ancona. Unfortunately, arriving in Ancona, a dirty, dodgy port town didn’t make me feel any better. I quickly made my way to my hostel, checked in and went to bed, hoping that a good nights’ sleep would make me feel better. I awoke feeling refreshed and a little more at ease, ate something and made my way to the port, which turned out to be mission all on its own. For some reason they thought it would make sense to have to catch a bus, from the train station to an office, near the port, but not quite at the port to check in, before you catch another bus to the actual port where you then have to wait two hours before you can board the ferry. At this point it didn’t even matter, I was just happy to be on a boat, knowing that when I stepped off I would finally be at my destination. I found a nice couch on the ferry, relaxed and opened my Lonely Planet: Croatia. I had ordered this book almost nine months and eleven countries earlier, having heard great things about Croatia and knowing that I wanted to see it for myself, but had yet to even look past the cover. As I sat there, flipping page to page my excitement for this tiny country on the Adriatic just kept growing and growing. All that nervousness and anxiety I had felt just a day earlier had suddenly turned into curiosity and excitement. Suddenly, I had my pen and paper out and was jotting down notes about different towns I wanted to discover, activities I wanted to do, national parks I wanted to visit, and islands off the coast I wanted to travel to. It seemed as though Croatia was this hidden gem right smack in the middle of Europe, and for some reason no one knew about it. I found myself picking up the book again and again just to look at the pictures, and kept saying to myself this place is going to be amazing, and before I knew it the boat was pulling within view of the shore. I grabbed my things and rushed out to the deck to see this place that I had been reading and studying about for the last four hours. Here it was… Croatia.
Another Week in Paradise
At the La Casetta I showered, unpacked a few things, and hopped on the scooter to go into town and surprise a few friends. The first stop, Il Triangolo, to grab a beer and say hi to whoever might be around. I have to admit, I was happy to surprise everyone, but at the same time felt a bit stupid, as I had cried and made such a big deal about leaving just one month earlier. I quickly realized that there was no need to be embarrassed as everyone was just as happy to see me as I was to see them. I can’t really explain the feeling I had returning to the Island. I guess the only thing I can say is that I am one very lucky person. That night I headed up to Gianni’s moms’ house for dinner. Mamma Maria also had no idea I was back on the island and was overjoyed to see me. I had been away from the island for a month, but here I was sitting in the MY place at the dinner table as if not even one day at passed.
Life on the island is very different in July than it is most other months of the year. Typically, it’s much warmer, the streets are packed with tourists, and only if you’re lucky, (or Gianni) can you find a spot on the beach.
Fortunately for me, Gianni has a spot on the “scogliera” (break wall), complete with lounge chairs, umbrellas, and food and drink delivery and as always, a place for me.
I spent every day out on those rocks, just enjoying the sun, the warm clear water, and time with my friends. A couple of days into my stay was Giacomo, Gianni’s cousin’s birthday, and being that I am “part of the family” I was naturally invited to the party. As I have mentioned before the Italians don’t really know how to do anything small, but celebrations are really what they are good at. Well, anything that involves eating, drinking, and socializing really. Giacomo’s birthday was obviously no exception. Upon arriving everyone mingled over a glass of wine (or two), snacked on a huge buffet table of appetizers and salads, before making our way to the tables for course after course of even more delicious food. Shortly after sitting down for the first course, in walks a three piece band, just in case anyone had thought that the food and drinks weren’t already enough.
After hours and hours of eating, drinking, and dancing, the party started to wind down and we made our way down to a bar for one last drink before calling it a night. Back at la cascetta, a bit overwhelmed with emotion, I felt compelled to sit down and write. I actually wrote this in Italian, but will put it in English here for you…
People say that in life you get what you give. I, however, do not know what I could have ever done to deserve so much. I only know one thing… I am a very lucky person. Thank you to all of my friends for making this life so special.
The next day, just the like the previous few days, I headed to the scogliera to meet Gainni. Today unlike the other days, his cousin Mary, the one whose birthday party we had attended only a month or so earlier, joined us. While sitting there, under the sun Gianni told Mary that he had arranged for her to have a ticket to a fashion show that night that was being held on the other side of the island, and that I was to be her date. Obviously I was very excited at this invitation. Everyone had been talking about the Rocco Barocco fashion show for a while now. Hollywood movie stars would be there and everyone wanted to go. I never expected that I would be going, let alone be walking in with a beautiful Italian. It was just a bit weird that that beautiful Italian was Gianni’s cousin. Not to mention, I was also a bit intimidated. Mary, is, in a lot of ways your typical Italian woman, very pretty, very stylish, and very confident. However, unlike most Italian women, she was single, worked for the airlines travelling the world, and very carefree about the way she enjoyed the pleasures of the world. At this point you are probably thinking, “Okay, Nick… and the problem is?!” Well here is the problem; I’m living out of a backpack, have NO clothes that would be appropriate for any fashion show, let alone one in Italy with a very fashionable Italian beauty on my arm. Oh, and did I mention that said Italian beauty is my best friend in Italy’s cousin? Yeah. So I did as any other person in my situation would do. I turned to Mary and said, “Well, I guess we need to go shopping!” Two hours and 150 Euros later I had a pair of beige pants that were easily two sizes too small for me, a VERY “fitted” black dress shirt, a haircut, and a shave. Gianni’s ticket included dinner at the fashion show and Mary and I had tickets only for the show, so I had dinner with Mamma Maria, the family, and Mary’s mom. Just after dinner Mary arrived on her scooter to pick me up. Not making things any better, as I was kissing Mamma Maria goodbye she said to me, “Be careful! Mary is a little crazy!” Then, just outside the house, Mary’s mom said the exact same thing. Not sure what to think, I said okay and nervously climbed on the back of the scooter. I wish I had a picture of us driving to the show, Mary, in a black dress and high heels, driving a scooter with me, doing my best impersonation of a fashionable Italian, sitting nervously on the back. I swear it could’ve been a scene out of a movie. The show itself was great. The Hollywood stars were there, the models were beautiful, the musical performances were great, and it was all topped off by a fantastic firework display at the end.
After the show we headed out for a couple of drinks, and a stroll through the piazza, before Mary dropped me off at my scooter and we said or see you laters. As I climbed into bed that night I couldn’t help but smile and say… just another night in Ischia.
The next few days passed almost without me noticing. The usual, lazy afternoons spent on the scogliera, dinners with the family, and warm nights spent sipping a Rucolino on the patio of one bar or another. I wished I could’ve stayed longer, but I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, I never would. So I packed my bags and planned my journey to Croatia. I didn’t have any idea yet, but what a journey that would be!
Life on the island is very different in July than it is most other months of the year. Typically, it’s much warmer, the streets are packed with tourists, and only if you’re lucky, (or Gianni) can you find a spot on the beach.
Fortunately for me, Gianni has a spot on the “scogliera” (break wall), complete with lounge chairs, umbrellas, and food and drink delivery and as always, a place for me.
I spent every day out on those rocks, just enjoying the sun, the warm clear water, and time with my friends. A couple of days into my stay was Giacomo, Gianni’s cousin’s birthday, and being that I am “part of the family” I was naturally invited to the party. As I have mentioned before the Italians don’t really know how to do anything small, but celebrations are really what they are good at. Well, anything that involves eating, drinking, and socializing really. Giacomo’s birthday was obviously no exception. Upon arriving everyone mingled over a glass of wine (or two), snacked on a huge buffet table of appetizers and salads, before making our way to the tables for course after course of even more delicious food. Shortly after sitting down for the first course, in walks a three piece band, just in case anyone had thought that the food and drinks weren’t already enough.
After hours and hours of eating, drinking, and dancing, the party started to wind down and we made our way down to a bar for one last drink before calling it a night. Back at la cascetta, a bit overwhelmed with emotion, I felt compelled to sit down and write. I actually wrote this in Italian, but will put it in English here for you…
People say that in life you get what you give. I, however, do not know what I could have ever done to deserve so much. I only know one thing… I am a very lucky person. Thank you to all of my friends for making this life so special.
The next day, just the like the previous few days, I headed to the scogliera to meet Gainni. Today unlike the other days, his cousin Mary, the one whose birthday party we had attended only a month or so earlier, joined us. While sitting there, under the sun Gianni told Mary that he had arranged for her to have a ticket to a fashion show that night that was being held on the other side of the island, and that I was to be her date. Obviously I was very excited at this invitation. Everyone had been talking about the Rocco Barocco fashion show for a while now. Hollywood movie stars would be there and everyone wanted to go. I never expected that I would be going, let alone be walking in with a beautiful Italian. It was just a bit weird that that beautiful Italian was Gianni’s cousin. Not to mention, I was also a bit intimidated. Mary, is, in a lot of ways your typical Italian woman, very pretty, very stylish, and very confident. However, unlike most Italian women, she was single, worked for the airlines travelling the world, and very carefree about the way she enjoyed the pleasures of the world. At this point you are probably thinking, “Okay, Nick… and the problem is?!” Well here is the problem; I’m living out of a backpack, have NO clothes that would be appropriate for any fashion show, let alone one in Italy with a very fashionable Italian beauty on my arm. Oh, and did I mention that said Italian beauty is my best friend in Italy’s cousin? Yeah. So I did as any other person in my situation would do. I turned to Mary and said, “Well, I guess we need to go shopping!” Two hours and 150 Euros later I had a pair of beige pants that were easily two sizes too small for me, a VERY “fitted” black dress shirt, a haircut, and a shave. Gianni’s ticket included dinner at the fashion show and Mary and I had tickets only for the show, so I had dinner with Mamma Maria, the family, and Mary’s mom. Just after dinner Mary arrived on her scooter to pick me up. Not making things any better, as I was kissing Mamma Maria goodbye she said to me, “Be careful! Mary is a little crazy!” Then, just outside the house, Mary’s mom said the exact same thing. Not sure what to think, I said okay and nervously climbed on the back of the scooter. I wish I had a picture of us driving to the show, Mary, in a black dress and high heels, driving a scooter with me, doing my best impersonation of a fashionable Italian, sitting nervously on the back. I swear it could’ve been a scene out of a movie. The show itself was great. The Hollywood stars were there, the models were beautiful, the musical performances were great, and it was all topped off by a fantastic firework display at the end.
After the show we headed out for a couple of drinks, and a stroll through the piazza, before Mary dropped me off at my scooter and we said or see you laters. As I climbed into bed that night I couldn’t help but smile and say… just another night in Ischia.
The next few days passed almost without me noticing. The usual, lazy afternoons spent on the scogliera, dinners with the family, and warm nights spent sipping a Rucolino on the patio of one bar or another. I wished I could’ve stayed longer, but I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, I never would. So I packed my bags and planned my journey to Croatia. I didn’t have any idea yet, but what a journey that would be!
5.01.2011
La Casetta
After getting off the phone with Gianni I prepared my things, waited for Rob and the family to get back, said some very heartfelt goodbyes, and was once again off to catch a bus, a train, and a ferry. I had no idea where I would be staying once I arrived in Ischia, but I knew that I would be comfortable and that Gianni, being Gianni, would have everything taken care of by the time I got there. So with my bags back on my shoulders, I stepped out in to the 100 degree heat to make my way to the train station. Once on board the train I called Gianni and let him know my train number and what time I was due to arrive in Naples. As I stepped off the train there was a man in a suit with a sign that said, “Nik” waiting for me. We quickly introduced ourselves as we made our way to the Mercedes and drove down to the port and onto the ferry. Once more, I was relaxed and already feeling at home as I made my way across the Bay of Naples, to the beautiful Island of Ischia. As the boat approached the dock I noticed Antonio waiting for me on the other side. We put my bags in the car and he told me that Gianni had arranged for me to stay in “La Casetta”, the “small house” just above Lacco Ameno, and that since Gianni needed his scooter Antonio would let me use his for the time that I was on the Island. I don’t know how he manages to do it every time, and I’m not about to ask, but once again, in just a matter of hours Gianni had arranged my transport, a place to stay, and a means of transportation, and all at no cost to me. I had originally thought that I would stay in Ischia for only two or three days, but I was already beginning to think it might be a few more. As you may have already guessed, I stayed more than three days.
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