Positano - 14th Sept

After a day full of walking around ruins and walking up volcanoes, I just wanted a short stroll for dinner tonight. However, once I get going there is no stopping me. And how I'm glad there wasn't. Slowly leaving behind the garbage strewn Piazza Garribaldi, through the laundry hung streets of the Centro Storico (Historical Centre), I suddenly came upon an oasis.

I had discovered via Toledo and via Chiaia. And how.

Streets that would grace the most classy and sophisticated cities in the world. Pavement cafes, expensive boutiques and people just strutting their stuff. If the woman of Naples I had seen so far were beautiful, just multiply that by a factor of 10 and you may get some idea of how drop dead gorgeous these girls are. Just strolling up and down, languidly lounged on Vespas, casually smoking a cigarette in ways that go beyond sexy. As a very good friend of mine would say, “this my friends, was Disney land for dads!”

The day after, my final full day, saw me back on the train to Sorrento, connecting to a local bus for the short drive to Positano. I had heard so many wonderful things about Positano that it had been on my bucket list for a while. And it didn't disappoint.



Hugging the sheer cliff faces, the hotels and houses seem to defy gravity. From the main coastal road high up, you descend via many steps, down to central, small Positano. Through narrow cobbled streets, ending up at the spiagga (beach) facing the ocean on one side and beautiful Positano on the other.



It is a breathtaking place. Described by the writer, John Steinbeck, as staying with you long after you leave. I don't think he will be wrong. I had a short stroll along the coast, before coming back, securing a cafe seat with a perfect view of the sea, and whiled away a couple of hours, eating and sipping a couple of large Peronis. Heaven.

The walk back to the bus stop, different to where I got off, was equally stunning. A vertiginous climb up the other side of the cliff front, with sweeping views back across Positano. On this final day of sightseeing, it would be difficult to pick a highlight, but it would be equally difficult for it not to be Positano.

Pompeii and Mt Vesuvius - Mon 13th Sept

Ok, ok, I promise not to make any mention of the beautiful girls of Napoli, or the unfortunate looking prostitutes for the whole of this blog post. IF, and only if you agree to, this week, at least read one of them all the way to the end. Deal? Well?

So this is a cultural post. I promise it will be the only one this week but I couldn't come to Naples without seeing the world renowned historical sights of both Pompeii and Mt Vesuvius. Forever entwined in history.



Only about 30 minutes on the train from Naples, Pompeii is an historical treasure. Once a busy port, the first reports of Pompeii date back to the 7th century BC. Always under the menacing eye of the great Mt Vesuvius, Pompeii was in a period of reconstruction following a massive eruption in 62 AD. However, in August 79 AD the now infamous eruption from Vesuvius buried Pompeii under ash and rock, keeping it hidden for centuries, until 1748 when full excavation work started under King of Naples Charles III of Bourbon.

What the world has now is a beautifully preserved ancient city with all the dividing neighbourhoods clearly defineable. Wandering around the streets, silently, under the shadow of Vesuvius, one really does get a sense of ancient days gone by. Strolling through to the massive amphitheatre, one of the oldest and best preserved in existence that used to house gladiator battles. With the participants parading through one gate whilst the dead or injured were removed through the other.



And from Pompeii, it was time to see the protaganist of this story up close. Getting one of the buses upto 1000 meters, it was then a 30 minute, steep walk, upto the crater of the beast. But, oh how it was worth it. Fantastic views on the climb up, and then, before you know it, you are hit smack in the face with it. The gawping crater of Vesuvius. The size and scale of which you just can not do justice in a photo. However, to prove I was actually there, and not still in Pompeii sipping chilled Peroni, a photo below.



However, after the walk back down, bus to Pompeii, and then train back into Naples, I was ready for a chiiled beer or 2.

Cin cin!

The authentic Italian experience

So last night, I just had to revisit Vesi pizzeria, just to make sure that the perfect pizza wasn't a fluke. And I had to order a different one just to make sure that they didn't only do one good pizza. Being a little too eager, I got there before the place even opened but the girls remembered me. "eet's the guy from lasta night". And indeed it was. Let me in girls, i'm starving.

The pizza i decided on was a Ripieno di Forna. And when it arrived i got a bit of a shock. It came in the shape of a cornish pasty, or calzone to most people I know. Only, flatter than the ones i'm used to in England. Lightly brushed with tomato on top with a sprig of basil, it was filled with mozzerella, ricotta cheese and salami. My word. Beautiful. Proving conclusively that last night wasn't a fluke. The search is officially over.



Now that i am off duty, i decided it was time to let my hair down and have a few beers. This is how I found myself in Piazza Bellini, which turns out to be the headquarters of Napoli's version of the infamous Ultras, the Napoli Mastiffs. The hardcore Napoli football fans. What an incongruous place for a bunch of hardcore hooligans to get together. A beautiful little square that surrounds the exposed ruins of some 4th century Greek walls. And what better night to be there. Live football as Napoli played out a 2:2 draw with Bari. What an authentic Italian experience. If there is one thing Italian men love more than their mothers then it's football. I even passed this shrine in the wall to Diego Maradona. Many, many years since he wore the blue of Napoli and dragged them to the Serie A title.



Walking home before the end of the match, I was walking past one bar that had brought the only TV they had outside and propped it up on crates. Imagine my surprise, as I walked past it, WITHOUT TOUCHING it, to see it, in slow motion start toppling off the crates. Yeah, fully off and onto the floor, smashing! It wasn't me guv!

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat and called in for a late night espresso and a Napoli favourite, Sfogliati. You trying saying that wthout getting laughed at, ha ha.



Buono sera folks!

Sorrento - Sun 12th Sept

The evening started out much like any other. No sense of what was to come. No outward signs of anything different. The same constant car horns. The same unfortunate looking prostitutes. And the same masses of garbage being blown about Piazza Garribaldi. So off I went in search of dinner without a care in the world, apart from trying not to look like a tourist and a prime target for the moped muggers.

I came across a very unassuming little pizzeria. It looked like a local joint, very simple furnishing and lots of shouting waiters and waitresses. So, in I went without expecting too much.

And then, wham! There it was. Mamma mia! Il pizza perfetto. The perfect pizza.



Pizza Amalfi. Cooked to perfection in the wood fired oven A crust to die for. A topping of smoked cheese, parma ham, lots of rocket and topped with padano cheese. Heaven on a plate. It wouldnt bother me if I never had another pizza again. I had reached pizza nirvana. And if you want to sample for yourself, check out Vesi Pizzeria, Piazza Miraglia. Who needs Da Michele? Not that I could get near the place again! Elizabeth Gilbert has got a lot to ask for. Whatever time of day or night I pass the joint, it's ram packed with hordes of "Eat, Pray, Love" crazies.

Stomach full of perfect pizza, I went to bed that night a very happy man.

The following morning saw me on the train from Stazione Garibaldi to Sorrento, just over an hour from Naples. Sorrento turned out to be every bit as beautiful as I had read about. Perched on a cliff overlooking the Bay of Naples. The imposing Mt Vesuvius overseeing everything in a slightly menacing way.

With many little intersecting cobbled, narrow streets. Passing the supermarket on the way in, and stocking up on supplies, I found a tranquil spot and had the picnic I had purchased. Fresh bread, ham, cheese and a bottle of red wine. Drunk from my new purchase of a tin mug, the only drinking receptacle I could find in the supermarket. Once more, not for the first time on this trip, I was a happy man. Soaking up the sun's strong rays, eating al-fresco, sipping wine, reading my book, Naples '44 by Norman Lewis.



I spent the day exploring Sorrento in a slight red wine buzz, saving the rest of the bottle for later. The town, like Capri the day before, is somewhere that I could definitely spend a lot more time in. One day maybe. It was with a heavy heart that I had to leave for my return train to Naples.

And for dinner that night? Surely not another perfect pizza?

Capri - Sat 11th Sept

So last night, as i'd had pizza for lunch i decided to put the search on hold and go a little more traditional. After being forced indoors for a couple of beers due to the wet weather, I located a very traditional looking trattoria on Via Tribunale. And here I had the Italian tradition of primo piatti followed by secondi piatti, then dolce, or coffee. I had Gnocchi alla Sorrento, followed by grilled lamb and then a caffé corretto, espresso with grappa.

Whilst in the restaurant, an American couple asked one of the waiters, "what is the fish tonight?". Without further ado, he came back through the restaurant, with a whole fish wobbling on the plate, saying "this issa the feesh".

After some great red wine, and a couple of auditions for Italy Has Got Talent, in the form of a guitarist, followed by an old signore playing the accordion, I decided to call it a night. Now, when I booked this hotel i did realise the area wasn't renowned for high class hotels and boutiques. See the picture below that highlights an all too depressingly familiar sight in Naples. But I didn't realise it was the stomping ground of the low class hookers of the city. Brazenly standing around at the back of my hotel. Unfortunately for them, that last wine had just tipped me over my daily budget, so off I trooped, alone, to my hotel.


This morning's plan was to go to the island of Capri, some 45 mins from Naples. So following a dreary breakfast in the hotel, and wondering why my key wasn't working in room 101, i was in 201, I went off for the long walk to the port, queued for a ticket, and got the 10.35am boat to Capri. And for the millionth time on this trip, I was faced with something of immense beauty. This time, Capri. What a beautiful place, reminicsent of Taormina in Sicily. Playground of the rich and famous. Hiking the couple of miles up a steep path to the top of the island I could have been transported a world away from Naples. Bougainvillea clad cottages, 5 star boutique hotels hugging the cliff sides, and views to die for across the sea.


There is serious money here. And shops that wouldn't look out of place in any fancy city in the world. And the women on Capri. Dare I say it? Even a notch up from the usual Italian heartbreakers. I spent many a pleasant hour just wondering around the little island, taking little streets to see where they ended up and discovering many a quiet corner, not invaded by the masses of tourists that descend on Capri on a daily basis.

Lunch was a simple, but delicious baguette of parma ham and fresh buffalo mozzerella. And a chilled Peroni sat in the shade back down by the marina, watching the boats come and go.


Now back at the hotel, relaxing before heading out for dinner tonight. And on the menu?

Pizza of course. Ciao!

Mamma mia!

Italian women are beyond beautiful. Let's just get that out of the way. The amount of times I was almost flattened by a speeding Fiat 500 or screeching Vespa as I was stopped dead in my tracks. The teenage girls start beautiful, they become beautiful young women, then beautiful mothers and ultimately, beautiful grandmothers. And all without losing any of the elegance, beauty and style they seem to inherit in their genes. Yes, it may be a little difficult to walk in heels that high on the cobbled streets of Naples, but oh how the Italian ladies are dedicated to their cause of looking damn sexy. If it wasn't for the over zealous caribieneri I would post of few photos just to verify my claims. Alas, the memories will have to stay in the mind.

I almost forgot why I was here. Oh yeah, the pizzas. That said, it turns out that the Italians do other foods as well. As the young Irish traveller on the table next to me at dinner asked a waiter last night, “do you have that lasagne thing? With meat”. It transpired that they did in fact have lasagne, so the young man promptly ordered it. With chips!

So after a slightly sluggish start to the day I am now in Naples. Why sluggish? Well, the problem with a good glass of red wine is that one glass just doesn't cut it. Nor 2. See where I'm going? I had to try a few more just to make sure they were all just as good. Call it quality control. What I didn't need first thing this morning was an argument with an uptight SKY representative who took umbrage to me using her display stand as a coffee holder. Much histrionics followed and I only wish I had a better grasp of the Italian language as attempts with witty one-liners lose their effect when delivered in English.


Naples immediately has a different feel to Rome. More of an edge to it. To the point that I was advised in one café that I should remove my watch. Even though it is only a replica Rolex, I thought it wise to take his advice rather than have my arm ripped off in an attempt to get my £10 timepiece.

Arriving at Napoli Centrale train station is described by Lonely Planet as “arriving at the scruffy door mat of Naples”. I couldnt have described it better myself. The ubiquitous lucky-lucky men line Piazza Garribaldi as you make your way into the city. I found my hotel, not very salubrious, and left my bag as I went to explore the city. I was going to get some pizza from “Da Michelle”, made famous in Elizabeth Gilbert's book, “Eat, Love, Pray”, soon to be released as a film with Julia Roberts playing the lead role. Made a little too famous as I could not even get near the door for the hordes of tourists vying to see if they agreed with Gilbert's glowing assessment of the pizza margerhita slices.


Me, I settled for pizza from a less famous, though no doubt no less tasty pizzeria down the road. The verdict? Very tasty. But not the perfect pizza.

The search goes on.

Roma - Thursday 9th Sept

Up at 5am, a complimentary bacon butty, strong coffee and I was making the short transfer to the airport. I thought I had given myself plenty of time. I mean, who would be flying that early? Half of Liverpool it seemed! I only managed to clear security, dash through the airport, and just make my gate in time. Not even time for the obligatory purchase in the duty free shops of the after shave I don't even need.

Flying a budget airline such as Ryanair really is an education in human behaviour. We 've all got a seat on the plane, yet people insist on queuing as soon as they reach the gate. And once on the plane all you can hear is the squawking of “there's 2 seats together here”, and “come and sit near us, there is a 3 and a 2 here”. For god's sake, sit down and shut up. We are not flying to Australia, we are only making the short hop to Rome. You will see your friends soon enough. And you have to hand it to the girls of Liverpool. Its 6.30am and we are about to board a Ryanair plane and yet they dress as though they are about to step out in Puerto Banus. Easy on the make up, false tan, jewelry and heels girls. There will be no Premiership footballers on this plane. And Mr Rooney is lying low right now.

Give Ryanair credit, we got off painlessly and even arrived at Rome slightly early. Right on time for my first issue. I didn't get any Euros in England as I had counted on using my card in the ATM at the airport on arrival. What I hadn't counted on was the only ATM at Ciampino airport not working! I started to wonder how the hell was I going to get into Rome, a 40 min transfer by bus, without the money to buy a ticket.

That is when I remembered that I had a stray £10 note in my wallet that I could take to the Bureau de Change and get enough Euros to at least get me into Rome. And that's exactly what I did and this enabled me to get to where I am now, Hotel Canada, a short stroll from Stazione Termini in Rome.

I had forgotten quite how breathtaking Rome is, and it's only a year since I was last here. I took off on foot to explore all the old tourist favourites. Walking down Via Cavour, I started at the Colosseum, in all it's splendour such an impressive structure, even after all these years. Close your eyes, block out the hordes of tourists and you can almost hear the crowds roar as the gladiators are brought out, in the glare of the midday sun.


From here, i strolled along to the “Typewriter” building, Il Vittoriano to give it it's proper name, and up to Piazza Navona, of course calling in to marvel at the Pantheon. It seems that turn a corner in Rome and you stumble across something quite magnificent. Like walking around a film set. Talking of film sets, next stop, following a much needed shot of caffeine in the form of an espresso, was the Trevi fountain, immortalised in “La Dolce Vita” when Anita Ekberg took a midnight dip. I had been here before, but either today was especially busy, or as time passes you forget just how many tourists visit the fountain. Everybody hustling and bustling for the perfect shot. And why do so many people try and get their partners to get a photo of them in front of the fountain without anybody else in the shot? Do you think that if you pose, and your husband points the camera at you that everybody will magically disappear? No! It's not going to happen. Just deal with the fact that you will have to have a random chap from Halifax invading your holiday pics.


From the fountain, I headed up to the Spanish Steps, a familiar sight in many fillms, including one of my personal favourites, The Talented Mr Ripley. I even walked to the top of the stairs and pretended I was Tom Ripley, looking down on Marge as she sipped her espresso below.


Enough of the daydreaming and back to reality with a well earned gelato, Frutti di Bosco. So tasty it was beyond words. Eaten as I walked back towards the hotel, via Piazza del Republicca, picking up a couple of chilled beers for the room, in the Cormack holiday tradition. It's with these beers, and with Dean Martin singing “On an evening in Roma” on my travel speaker in the hotel room that I'm writing this blog. I'll wrap it up there for the time being, finish my beer, maybe have a disco nap, and head out for dinner tonight and maybe my first attempt at finding that “perfect pizza”.

Ciao!