Roman for a Day on the Island of Capri

For a brief moment today I was transported back in time to 27 A.D. and became a Roman soldier under Tiberius's rule. From high atop a craggy peak I scanned the Mediterranean Sea for approaching enemy ships. The only sound was the rustling of cypress, juniper, and olive leaves in the mountain breeze. I patrolled an overgrown dirt path on a narrow ridge overlooking a vast empire where men’s fates were decided according to the whim of all powerful Gods. For now all was well on the Roman capital island of Capri. Suddenly, through the wind, I heard a distant voice call my name. “Jeff, Jeff, where are you? I need to pee”. Snapping back to reality I pocketed my phone, turned on my heels, and headed back towards Jenna waiting patiently at the café.

Surveying the Roman empire

In planning our trip to Positano we consulted many websites, blogs, and guidebooks. We would be spending 9 days on the Amalfi coast had plenty of time to fill.  We considered the standard fare: wandering the streets, sampling the food, relaxing on the beach. One activity we had planned from the start was a visit to Capri. Departing from Positano, it would take us an hour by boat to reach the island resort. On the way we would pass crumbling Roman ruins, secluded rocky coves, and hidden underwater grottos. 

Once again our journey would begin on the Positano pier.

After another breakfast at the Hotel Buca di Bacco, this time finished off with two strong cappuccinos, we headed out in search of our guide. Following in the footsteps of American tourists before us we stopped at the first company on the pier with a sign that said “Capri”. We held out our tickets and were met with shaking heads and pointing fingers. “Your company is over there”. Sheepishly departing, we soon located the correct checkin line at L’Uomo e il Mare (The Man and the Sea). Additional companies offering similar Capri tours were lined up side by side along the pier. It was so popular, it seemed, that next door at Capri-Jet even a cat had mustered early to wait in line.

Ticket for one, please.

At 9:30 AM sharp the Donna Asunta chugged up to the dock and the crew lashed her to the pier. We boarded and sat towards the bow where instead of seats were laid large plastic mats. As the boat hurdled through the swells, the surf spraying our faces, our guide pointed out the passing landmarks. We passed the Li Galli islands, rumored to have been inhabited by the sirens from Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey. The sirens called out to passing ships luring the sailors to their deaths. Having written my English thesis on Homer’s other great work, The Iliad, I was giddy with delight at being in such proximity to the islands. I turned to Jenna and excitedly recounted the adventures of Odysseus: the sirens, the cyclops, the poppy fields, Scylla and Charybdis. I waited for a reaction but she was preoccupied with some photos on her  phone. “I wonder how they make these pastries” she said. The boat continued on.

Luckily the sirens were napping and we passed without incident

Every so often our guide would gather us on the boat deck to describe a coastal village or ruin on shore. One village was a hotspot for the best chefs in Italy. Another was a lavish resort town with 5 star hotels. An old lighthouse boasted the best sunset views on the coast. When my phone received a faint signal I opened Google Maps and the GPS displayed our coordinates: a small blue dot moving steadily towards a jagged green square, the island of Capri.

Video: Traveling up Mount Solaro on the island of Capri

Once on land we split up into groups of 6 to ease the cost of the taxi ride up the hill to Anacapri. There we could board the chairlift to Mount Solaro which offered one of the most scenic views in all of Campania. As we scanned the row of cars one enthusiastic Italian taxi driver waved us over. He opened the door to a cherry red convertible and we all climbed aboard. After weaving through the crowded squares of Capri we were soon on our way up the hill. On our right the sea stretched into the horizon where it blended with the sky at a distant point. We soon arrived in Anacapri, posed with the stylish car, and made our way to the chairlift.

Traveling in style on the island of Capri

All of my previous chairlift experiences have been in subzero temperatures with a snowboard strapped to my feet. I would wait patiently in the cold as the rumbling metal lift slowly carried me up the mountain, stopping occasionally for some poor soul whose summit dismount had not gone according to plan. The chair lift on Capri was a welcome change of pace.

“Hello, hello” the Italian lift operator bellowed practically shoving me towards the green dot where I was supposed to stand. Slowly, surely, the tiny metal chair came around the bend and scooped me up. I was soon on my way up the mountain with my feet dangling treacherously over the passing farms and villas. Up ahead I noticed Jenna had thoughtfully removed her sandals before boarding the chair. I grasped mine tightly between my toes and considered doing the same. As the lift creaked up the hill I passed over a graveyard of bright blue, orange, and red flip-flops. I reached down, removed mine, and stuffed them in my pockets.

The view from the lift was incredible.  In the distance clusters of white houses glinted like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight.  Capri has always been a resort island, even in Roman times, but from the chair I observed the hustle and bustle of any modern city. The repetitive metallic taps of a hammer traveled through the air. Dogs barked from distant apartment patios. Chickens clucked. I was startled when a nearby rooster, hidden from view by the thick foliage, screeched loudly. He greeted us warmly on our way back down the mountain too.

I had to duck and turn nimbly in my seat as the lift traveled through large tree branches and clusters of mysterious fruits. I overheard American tourists attempting to identify the species of trees below. “Are these kiwi fruits?” one woman asked. “I don’t think so,” her boyfriend replied, “figs maybe?”. I have never seen a fig tree up close but the spiky green berries we passed were definitely not figs. Without a proper tour guide the clueless Americans would have to do.

Up and up we went, the lift ascending gradually for some stretches and at impossibly steep angles for others. Welcomed gruffly at the top by more Italian lift workers we hopped from the moving chair and stumbled to a halt on the cement platform. Taking in the scenery I asked Jenna “Can you imagine what this would be like in Roman times?”. “Yeah,” she said “no chairlift. They’d have to walk.”

No walking for me!

After climbing a short staircase we found ourselves on top of Capri’s highest peak, Mount Solaro. Grasping the railing I peered over the edge where the sandstone cliffs dropped off sharply to meet the sea below. The water’s surface rippled softly by the afternoon breeze. The Mediterranean stretched endlessly into the distance and it was hard to tell where water stopped and sky began. Tourists buzzed all around, jockeying for positions from which to take the perfect photographs. I directed my gaze out to sea and tried to imagine what it would be like in ancient times. There would be no railings and no chairlift. There would be only the cliffs, the ocean, the sky and the clouds. The people would be at the mercy of mother nature and the wrath of the unpredictable Gods. 

Video: The Peak of Mount Solaro 

After taking pictures we headed to the Canzone Del Cielo bar and cafe for another cappuccino and then strolled along a cement path that followed the peak’s perimeter. At one point I noticed a dirt trail winding through the thick shrubs and grass. There were no signs prohibiting access and so grasping the opportunity I hiked for a short distance away from the tourists and towards a silent bluff. Here I imagined myself transported back to the time of Homer when men made sense of the world through epic poems passed down through generations. I imagined myself on the shores of Ithaca awaiting Odysseus’s return from the Trojan War. There, far out at sea, I imagined that I saw the white sails of his approaching ship. 

Where sea meets sky

Back at the cafe Jenna and I once again boarded the lift for our descent down the mountain. We split another cab, this one the standard white and black, and were soon deposited on the streets of Capri. We joined masses of tourists moving through the squares like schools of fish. High above we observed private apartments with open windows and laundry hanging out to dry. As we turned one corner we found ourselves surrounded on all sides by designer shops. There was Gucci, Armani, Dior, Dolce & Gabbana and Louis Vuitton. Like Homer’s sirens the shops called out to us with their shiny gold jewelry and sleek leather clothes. And just like the unfortunate sailors we were unable to resist their sweet songs.

Stepping into one store we were met with skeptical looks from the well dressed clerk. Apparently my shorts and hoodie sweatshirt did not scream life long Prada customer. While Jenna browsed the clothes racks I examined the men's shoes. I tried to play a game wherein I'd guess the price before turning over the shoe to see the tag. This quickly sputtered once I realized they were all similarly price. Shiny leather business shoe? €470. Yellow suede loafer? €470. Casual sneaker? You guessed it, €470. Either someone really rich was getting a great deal or someone like me was getting priced out. As we moved towards the front of the store, the clerk at our heels, one golden leather handbag caught Jenna's eye. We fumbled through the pockets until we found the tag: €1,550. We made a beeline for the door.

21st century siren calls

After lunch we made our way back to the harbor for our 2:30 PM departure time. Cutting through the waves we headed towards our next destination: the Blue Grotto. Until recently I had never heard of the Blue Grotto. I knew nothing of its storied history as a private swimming pool for the Roman emperor Tiberius and his top officers. Dating back to the 1st century A.D., the sea cave was a hallowed spot for the Romans. Ancient statues depicting the sea gods Poseidon and Triton were recovered from the cave in 1964. Today the grotto is privately owned and visited mainly by tourists who pay €13 per person (plus tip) to get a glimpse inside.

The grotto’s entrance is marked by a small, jagged hole in the cliff just at sea level. As boats full of tourists arrive they are surrounded like sharks by the grotto guides in their tiny wooden rowboats. A quick headcount was taken of those willing to pay the price of entry and then we carefully stepped into the rowboats in groups of three or four. “Sit, sit” says the Italian guide. “Lower, lower” he instructs. We are required to lay almost flat on the bottom of the small boat so that we can squeeze through the rocky opening. Suddenly day becomes night and our gasps of surprise are echoed throughout the cavernous space. The water shimmers with electric blue light and casts wavy reflections on the rock walls. Just when the we think the scene cannot get more surreal our Italian guide breaks out in song. His off-key melody booms throughout the cavern and soon the other guides join in like a pack of wolves howling at the moon.

After some paddling we coast to a stop and our guide says we can swim. This was unexpected. Jenna and I had assumed swimming in the blue waters would be prohibited and so were still wearing our clothes. Faced with the once-in-a-lifetime experience we both took advantage and climbed overboard with Jenna still wearing her earrings and dress. The water was cool and refreshing. I took a deep breath of air and swam under the surface. Opening my eyes I was met with a spectacular sight. Below the tiny grotto entrance, deep under water, there was a second hole in the rock. This one was ten times the size of the entrance and the main source of sunlight entering the cave. I emerged, gasped for air, and was then hoisted back into the rowboat by our guide. Once again we lay flat in the tiny wooden boat and returned to daylight.

Come on in, the water's great!

On the way back to Positano we anchored at a few choice swimming spots and dove into the warm waters. We conversed with a young couple who had shared our rowboat and learned they are also on their honeymoon. Sarah lives in Australia and is 5 years away from completing her obstetrics residency training program. Ryan is an ER doctor originally from Canada and the two met while finishing med school in Sydney. We compared our Italian adventures and told them about our plans to rent scooters the following day. Ryan insisted we’d be fine and recounted his far more death-defying experience renting a scooter in Bali. After hearing his story we felt much better about the relatively relaxed ride we had planned.

As Positano came into view our boat guide popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and we all sipped the sparkling wine from plastic cups. Wrapped in towels, we cruised to the dock and stepped off the boat. Jenna and I both stumbled with our first steps on land before regaining our balance. Cold and wet but entirely satisfied we headed back up the stone steps to our hotel. Exhausted from long day we decided to forego a fancy restaurant and opt for take out pizza instead. With the fresh pie, made to order right in front of us, we retired for the night. We’ll need all the rest we can get. 

Tomorrow we trade the boat for a scooter and tour Italy by land.