Nathan Goes Kayaking

While I was in Istanbul in June, Nathan decided to take our heavy, sit-on-top, plastic, tandem kayak out for it's maiden voyage in Italy. Below is the email I received from him:

[After a rough start to his morning, he] "set about putting the kayak dolly together. 

What a pain. It was like a Chinese puzzle - straps and extra pieces - a total disaster.  First, it took me an hour just to locate the parts in the garage closet (btw, everything is soaking wet and covered with slimy, fetid funk),  so the garage now looks like a band of gypsies sacked the place [editor's note: this is not a prejudicial comment, but rather a reference to some specific bands of gypsies who live here in Naples and are responsible for a great deal of pickpocketing and car break-ins at shopping centers]. 

Off I go down the crowded (i.e. beach trafficked) streets of Lucrino whilst dragging a 17-ft kayak (twice as long as most of the cars on the road). Imagine the stares! 

I get to the beach access point and am accosted by some schmuck who thinks it's his job to control who/what gets through. There are poles set up across the pathway under the tracks to prevent cars (and kayaks?) from getting through. However, [not so] remarkably, the tunnel is crowded with scooters.  He looks at my insanely huge kayak and simply shakes his head in the "no" direction. Pretending to not understand the Italian (and international) "no" gesture, I turned the boat on edge and shimmied through the poles and perilously past the line of incredulous ragazzi perched, smoking and/or making out, atop their scooters in the tunnel to the second set of barricades, on the beach-side of the tracks. This guy obliges and removes them since it's clear I am not going to acquiesce to their self-aggrandized sense of import. I'm in. 

But now I am faced with a sea of humanity positioned menacingly between me and the actual sea. There is no way I am going to get this boat in the water without crushing at least 143 Italians in the process. Add the awkwardness of 184,000 people who seemed to hush and stare as though I just landed on Earth aboard my 17-ft pointy orange spaceship.  If I could peel my humanoid face off and expose a reptilian countenance, I may have had better luck by scaring them off with a flick of my forked tongue and the jaundiced gaze of my lizard eyes. 

I dragged the ark to the far end of the public beach and found the narrowest part of the beach where I had to interrupt only one young couple's make-out session in order to put to sea. Lots of yelling and reluctant movements, but I was in the water. I hurriedly paddled off amidst what seemed like the ire of the entire Italian population and briefly considered paddling back to the States. 

So, there I was finally with some peace. Naturally, I immediately started wondering how I was going to get this boat out of the water. I resolved to paddle until the start of the Italy vs. Spain soccer match that was to air in roughly 5 hours. This was the impetus for my decision to paddle to Miseno - about 5 times further than was my intent when I [ahem] "planned" this odyssey. 

Notably, Italians in boats are much more civilized than Italians in cars. Maybe they were too taken aback by this unpowered, extraterrestrial craft and just elected to maintain a safe distance. Nevertheless, their conduct presented itself as courteous and respectful - ironically very alien itself, in this part of the universe. 

I paddled straight to the Baia castle and then hugged the coast all the way to Miseno (about 2 hours). Lots of people on the shore and scattered about the various breakwaters in Baia, Baccoli, etc.  Lots of quiet anchorages with people splashing around, making out, and lazing in the sun. Very nice paddle but for the constant staring, pointing, and general disbelief among the natives of this strange land I have only begun to explore.

I explored some coastal caves, lingered and eventually stopped on a beach in the Miseno harbor (next to the Guardia Finanza marina), ate an energy bar, and then headed back. The wind shifted and made for a long, hard paddle through the mussel farms (about 2 hours). 

Upon reaching the Lucrino beach, my fears were assuaged, and I found a spot to land and drag the boat up. My suspicion was at least partially correct and the beach was roughly 30% as crowded as when I left. Now, I had to field a multitude of questions about the boat, its wheels and why I do these things. The answer to how far I went was invariably received with a stout "MAMMA MIA!" and a horrified look upon their realizing that I may have actually come from another planet since I am capable of propelling my craft at least as far as Miseno. 

Getting up to the house was no big deal, I think because most people were home getting ready to watch the soccer match - still an hour away. 

I parked the boat in the garage, poured myself a deserved beer, and watched the natives in their second favorite activity - second just after making out on the beach."

Why We Pay To Go To the Beach

I grew up going to beaches along Florida's Panhandle. They are free, beautiful, and clean. We lived in San Diego. Lots of free, beautiful, clean beaches. Mississippi - close enough, Key West, yep. When we moved to D.C. and started going to the Chesapeake Bay, we noticed some towns had small beaches on the bay for which they charged a fee for non-residents. That was weird. Then we moved here. In Naples, there are only a few free beaches. One of them happens to be a block from my house. I thought this was fabulous until I realized just what paying for a beach spot gets me. For somewhere between 10-20 euros (roughly, $13-25), I get a clean beach, a toilet that may or may not be clean and may or may not have toilet paper/soap, a chair, an umbrella, a beach cafe for lunch, and in some cases, a shower or access to a pay shower...and men to walk around the beach, approaching my chair approximately 20 times in four hours to see if I want to buy a watch, sunglasses, sarong, jewelry, or tablecloth. Here is what you get at the free beach:

I think it's clear which side is free and which side is pay.

 I took this picture on my phone while having maternity photos taken by Renee Williams. She has a much better shot of it done with her camera (and her photography skills!). I think it goes without saying that beach maternity shots are done on the pay beach (called a lido or beach club) side of the fence!

In this blog, I try to be really honest about my feelings on living in Italy, and in Naples especially. There are highs and lows. There are things I like and things I don't like...like everywhere and every aspect of life. I try very hard not to let the negatives outweigh the positives and affect my attitude. That said, Naples does not have nice beaches. We've spent this summer visiting beaches in every direction radiating out, from south to Sicily (and to the Cilento area last summer) to east to the Adriatic side of Italy to the islands off the coast of Naples and up the coast to an area called Gaeta. In every direction, one can find clean, gorgeous water and beaches. While Naples has some excellent lidos that keep their beaches raked of trash, you can't change the water quality. That takes a massive change by the entire Neapolitan society, who to this point, has not realized on a large scale that throwing garbage out of cars means garbage in the waterways, that sewage leaks can and should be controlled rather than just clucked over with a shoulder shrug (that's just how it is), and that if you are a free beach goer, you should still take your trash with you at the end of the day...because the next time you come to the free beach, you don't want to have to rake a spot just to put your towel. I love sitting on the beach, and I've done it here in Naples...I especially love being able to snorkel over Roman ruins, which is such a unique occurrence. BUT...here is why I prefer beach trips out of town:

In Formia, about 1.5-2 hrs in traffic from our house. Clean, clear water.

Vieste, on the Gargano Peninsula (east coast of Italy). Even cleaner, clearer water.

Taormina, Sicily. The cleanest and clearest of all, like swimming in a salty water bottle.

A Winter Day at the Beach

Last weekend, we had gorgeous weather with clear, blue skies and warm temperatures. Thinking it would be nice to take Scully on a walk on the beach, we soon changed our destination from our small, local beach to the wide expanse of sand just over the hill from us. We had yet to visit this beach, but we've taken good looks at it from up on high, while visiting the ancient ruins of the Cuma settlement. A friend who takes her dog there gave us directions, and with Scully full of excitement in the back of the car, we headed out. After a few wrong turns, expected, we found a road we thought could lead to the beach (our directions included "turn down the unmarked, dirt road") and voila. The unmarked dirt road is one car wide, full of ruts, huge pits, water, and has broken, barb wire fencing falling into it, but it does parallel the Cuma hill, which has some really cool caves that are only visible from the beach. This beach is unlike almost all other beaches in the area. There are no "clubs" with parking and fancy structures and beach beds, the beaches are wide with light colored sand rather than volcanic sand, and edging up to the sand is all vegetation, not a human structure in sight. Getting out of the car, I almost doubled over in horror at the smell. Stink is not even the word for it. Horrible, putrid, icky! There is a sewage outlet at this beach, and supposedly, the sewage is treated before it's dumped. But this is Naples. Now I'm not saying the sewage water wasn't treated, but I am saying the place smelled like a public toilet that hasn't been cleaned in a few months...or years. But Scully was just so excited, so we decided to at least let him run on the beach. That is until we actually stepped onto the beach and saw the trash covering it. My picture above doesn't really capture just how much trash was present. Tiny pieces of litter were everywhere in addition to the big stuff, like metal drums, cargo ship sized boat fenders, even a refrigerator. There was so much trash we decided to keep Scully leashed in fear of him cutting up his feet. Between the smell and the trash, we didn't last long. Thankfully, the same friends who gave us directions also recommended a walk in the forest.

Heading back to a turn-off road, we followed a narrow, dirt path that opened onto a small parking lot and a walking trail. We could hear the roar of the sea, but smelled only fresh air while surrounded by trees. Scully even found an old temple to play on (these are the remains of a Temple of Isis, built in the 1st century B.C. and in use until around 400-500 A.D.). We may give that beach another try at a later date, or we may just skip it and head to the lovely walking trail. I love to think about how we're walking the coastline where the first settlers of mainland Italy landed and began creating a new city that, 3000 years late, is part of the densest city in Europe.

Perfect Summer Day in Italy

Yesterday was as near a perfect day as I've had this summer. I headed back to the beach with a friend who lives down the street. We set up our chairs and umbrella, pulled out water, snacks, and books, then promptly set to the hard job of relaxing on the beach. Our view took in the Baia Castle up on the nearest cliff, then on to Capo Miseno, that famed home of the Roman fleet at the time of Pompeii's eruption, and off in the distance, Capri was visible in the clear air. When time for a cool down swim arrived, I donned snorkel gear, and we set off for a nearby buoy. Where the buoy floats was once dry land, and with this particular stretch of the coastline being a former hotbed of vacation villas for wealthy Romans, under the waters lie the ruins. There are more watery ruins down the road in Baia, but those are for divers. The Arco Felice bits lie just off the beach where we were set up and the water is so shallow that in a couple of places, had I put down my legs, I would have been standing on an old, villa wall. The only villa we found during this swim was not one that had a mosaic floor, although those are out there, too. This one did have several columns, creepy with the algae covering up their former glory. One toppled column was not covered with marine life, so it's brick facing was clear. In other places, the columns just rose up out of the sand bed, with the walls of the villa surrounding them.

I'm always a little wary when I put on a snorkel. I'm not completely comfortable in the water, and for me, the unknown can sometimes be a good thing. I'm not sure I actually want to know what creatures are swimming around me. As with everything else in my new life, things are different here! There is no marine life. Nada. Just around the villa, I was thankful to finally see a few small, colorful fish - I suppose due to the marine growth on the ruins providing food. That made me feel a little better, but I've never snorkeled a place that just had nothing going on. Is it water pollution? Just a fact of no food = no creatures? Come to think of it, I now recall a headline from a couple of weeks ago in Italian, meaning I paid little attention to it. It was a news banner flashing across my email home page with the words "bianca" (white) and "Naples" in it and a picture of a shark. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention. This seems like it could have been important now that I'm actually swimming in these waters...okay, I've just done a Google search on the matter and found nothing. Although apparently some company named Evinrude is now distributing something called the White Shark line in Italy - see, that headline I read could have said anything. That's why I just count on ignorance and prayer to stay safe here.

Following a few hours under the summer sun and sporting a lovely stretch of skin that my sunblock spray missed, we packed it in and headed to our respective homes. Since sitting in the sun all day is hard work, I had no desire to cook dinner. As it turns out, a J-O-B. is actually hard work, so Nathan, too, was missing a desire to cook. He made the most lovely suggestion for dinner. You might think it was the words, "Let's eat out." That, however, is not the relaxing, easy way out - dinner out can be complicated, and very long, unless it's pizza. Since we're just off our diets, we're trying to spend weeknights with more healthy options. Off we went to Gennaro's, where we picked up prosciutto, salami, mozzarella di bufala, fontina cheese, and a large loaf of bread. Back home, adding in some olives and tomatoes and fresh basil to our spread along with glasses of wine, and we enjoyed my favorite, Italian dinner of all. And best of all, while we were at Gennaro's, we also stopped in to the gelateria for dessert first - a cone of biscotti gelato, and the day was perfect!

Caves and Beaches

Santa Maria di Castellabate beach - A Blue Flag beach (=good)

Summer weekends are fast disappearing, and we've been very lazy this season in our exploration. For the weekend of July 4th, Nathan had four whole days. This is prime travel opportunity time, but we decided weeks ago to spend the time exploring our own region of Campania. The plan was one beach day, one day on the Amalfi Coast, one day in the Cilento National Forest, and one day at home. Good plan. We didn't follow it. After two entire days of lazing about, we finally decided to actually get off the sofa and see something. On the Fourth of July, we drove to the Cilento region to visit Grotte dell'Angelo. There are two main cave systems in that area, this one and Grotta di Castelcivita. While I want to visit Grotta di Castelcivita someday - who wouldn't with this description out of Lonely Planet: "There are longer, three hour tours between May and September when the water deep within the cave complex has dried up. Hard hats and a certain level of fitness and mobility are required." - we opted on this trip for Grotte dell'Angelo, mainly because the tour starts in a boat that you take into the cave system, and you "disembark just before the waterfall" (again with the LP guidebook).

Cave Entrance

On arrival, we found that the next English speaking tour was in three hours. And off we went on the Italian language tour departing in 20 minutes. Therefore, I can tell you next to nothing about the cave. But it was awesome. We rode the boat, then walked for about an hour through caves and halls and itty, bitty little grottoes chock full of stalactites and stalagmites, many that had met in the middle over the millenia of growth. This and the other cave I mentioned have shown signs of human habitation, and Grotta di Castelcivita (the one we didn't visit) takes it's place in the record book as the site of the oldest settlement in Europe, with evidence of habitation dating to 40,000 years or so, give or take a few millenia. This makes our local, Roman ruins seem pretty puny.

Okay, here's where I get on my soapbox. To all Americans traveling overseas: (1) If you decide to take a tour in which the guide is speaking the language of your host country, IT IS RUDE to talk to your partner loudly while your guide is talking. Just because you can't understand him doesn't mean the others in the group can't; (2) It is also rude to just walk off in the middle of his sentence - you picked going on a foreign language tour, so by golly, stand there and pretend you know what the heck your guide is saying; (3) In a cave, DO NOT touch the stalactites and stalagmites; (4) Even though you didn't understand your guide saying do not take pictures with a flash, I'm pretty sure you can read - and there's a huge sign IN ENGLISH at the entrance with instructions - like "Don't touch anything" and "Don't take flash pictures." There were even accompanying pictures to these instructions.

Soapbox over, and I won't go into even more detail how completely Nathan and I were embarrassed by our fellow countrymen (on the Fourth of July, no less), but I will say we had a serious sidebar discussion about pretending we were Canadian in order to distance ourselves from these folks. With the tour over, we'd planned to visit a nearby monastery, one of the biggest in southern Europe, but we were toured out and in need of some beach time. Around the mountains and to the sea we drove, landing in Santa Maria di Castellabate, mainly because the town sounded nice and has a two mile beach, key in this high traffic, beach season. Parking was a dream, and we were lying on the beach in no time - the sand a nice golden color, refreshing after the black sand beaches closer to home. It was already a bit late in the day with a brisk breeze blowing, so rather than a swim, we promptly fell asleep with our books turned face up on our bags. Upon waking and sitting up, staring groggily out at the sea, a man came up, asking if we spoke English. Upshot is that he is from Naples and used to have many American friends who have now moved away. He is looking for someone with whom he can practice his English. Hopefully, we can get together with him as we're hoping to make some connections with Italian families.

All in all, a pretty good Fourth of July - although I sure missed parades and picnics and flags flying everywhere. I didn't miss fireworks. We have fireworks here every night. That's not an exaggeration.

Long Delay

Oh how I wish I had a fabulous excuse for my long silence here. Something like traveling all over Italy, attending loads of local markets, or spending the days lounging by the Mediterranean (side note: we're actually on the Tyrrenhian Sea, but that's so much less interesting to type). Instead, I've been dieting. My first ever and extremely difficult. For a few days there, all I could think about was food. Have you ever watched the show Survivor? Invariably, each season, the players start talking about food, in detail. That's what I was like. I imagined sitting down with a bag of chips, pictured drinking a nice, cold glass of white wine, dreamed of eating the chocolate bar sitting on our hutch. Then I pictured the beaches here in Italy, full of women in bikinis. Now admittedly, Italian women here in the south are not as fit as what I think Americans imagine - the svelte beauty, limbs toned. But that's the media for you. Instead, Italian women aren't obsessed with covering up their body flaws - or maybe in this culture, extra pounds and stomachs curling over the tops of pants aren't considered flaws. I don't really know. Bikinis reign here, regardless of age or size. The nonnas (grandmothers) do put on full coverage bikinis, but that's about the extent of their concern.

I went to the beach last week, my first time this summer. This is a crying shame since we literally live one block from the beach, including a free beach and three pay beaches. I believe I've mentioned the beach culture before, but just to clarify, the beaches are lined with "beach clubs," places who clean the sand, have bathrooms, maybe a cafe or restaurant, and chairs/umbrellas for rent. Entry is somewhere from 3-10euros per person, with extra costs for chairs, umbrellas, and so on. Some clubs have pools, too, which is yet another cost. The pools, I have found out, are very important here because of water pollution. There is a sewage treatment plant about 20 minutes up the coast that routinely dumps sewage into the water. Our location is in a large bay, separated from the coastline by a couple of peninsulas, so my guess is that the water near our house is okay for swimming, given the water current. However, when we go to church on Sunday (our church is located on a huge stretch of beach heading up towards the plant), the beach is filled with families enjoying the day...and not a single person in the water. It's a little eery, actually. We're hoping to do some beach exploring this summer and kicked that off on the Fourth of July. More on our Fourth later, but I hope you all had a lovely holiday and that you ate lots of burgers, chips and brownies, which is what I dreamed of all day long.