|The lovely, pedestrian zone of Anacapri|
I don't, however, care for the bus rides. Both trips recently, there was a particular route that, of a group of about 20 waiting to board the bus, about 5 actually make it on. With the bus only running every 20-30 minutes, this means a pretty long wait, especially if you're trying to make a ferry down at the port. My aunt, from south Georgia, had a really hard time with the pushing your way forward that happens at most places here in Italy. The concept of lines and personal space are practically nonexistent, and what we'd consider outright rudeness is just the norm here. The cultural differences are real and vast. At the end of our Capri day, we were trying to get to the port from Anacapri, a 15 minute bus ride to Capri, then a wait for another bus and another 10 minute ride. As I looked around the huge group standing at the Anacapri bus stop, I thought to myself, "There is no way my aunt is going to push her way onto this bus." I let Mike and Katrina know that there would be room for only a few of us to get on the bus, and if we didn't place ourselves at the door and weren't ready to push, we were waiting another 25 minutes or so, where the process would then repeat. They were troopers - those two took what I said to heart, and we were first on. It was helpful that my uncle was a foot taller than anyone else trying to get on and therefore able to run a block maneuver. The locals who depend on bus transport must absolutely despise tourist season.
While on Capri, we spent a small amount of time in Capri Town, just enough to look at the view and visit my favorite patisserie for a takeaway lunch and sampling of pastries, then hopped a bus to Anacapri. We did a little shopping, went back to Chiesa di San Michele (the tiny church with the gorgeous, painted tile floor of the Garden of Eden - posted about in Across the Sea, to Capri), and visited my new favorite jewelry store (owned by a family with their own factory on the mainland, where family members make all the jewelry - and for the cynics out there, both times, when I talked to the owner about living in Naples, she and her son invited me to visit their factory, located nearby, and gave me their personal cell numbers).
We made it back down in the chairlift (although I admit to a bit of vertigo this time), shoved our way onto the bus, arrived at the port to find a ferry leaving in only 3 minutes, managed to buy our tickets and run to it in time (despite a heckler next to the ticket counter mocking my Italian when I used the wrong word for dock - oh, how much I hate not knowing the language well), and got home quickly, helped along by Nathan, who braved driving in downtown Naples to pick us up on his way home.