May 14 - Tuesday - Rick Steves at the Kebab Shop

Cathedral ceiling

I was at loose ends with what to do with myself today. I was sick to death of the Circumvesuviana train and didn't really want to travel anywhere so I chose to hang out. I decided to go to mass at the cathedral, as I wanted to get a look inside. I got there at 8:25AM, thinking there was a daily mass at half-past as posted, but nothing happened. I walked around and decided which saint I’d ask to intercede regarding the bout of blue lonlies that came upon me in the middle of the night (it only seems to happen in beautiful places, like Sorrento). That's the job of saints--they're go-betweens with influence. Then the bell rings and in walks the cardinal, all by himself--you can tell he was a cardinal by the red dress--and mass began. I didn't understand a word, but remembered well enough how it went from my childhood, and followed everyone else, up and down, kneeling and standing. I was really touched by his service and the way he held up the host (a thin bread wafer, for you non-Catholics) and wine--I could see that he really felt a transformation of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ.  It sounds horribly cannibalistic, but the idea is to become one with God, in imitation of the last supper.

"Magdalena" by Artemsia Tedelschi

After the service, I made an offering to Mary of Perpetual Mercy—she had her own little archway and fancy carved setting where she stood, life-size, embracing a little girl (so of course she would help me out). After, I wandered around town for a while and ended up at a somewhat funky museum with a nice garden and belvedere (a view out to sea). The museum was apparently the former home of some countess connected to the Grimaldis, and all her old artwork was on display. A lot of the paintings were so in need of restoration they were nearly black, but the clay figures of peasants in one display case was outstanding—full of emotion and expression.

Only nine inches tall, these figures are typical
of the intricate pieces many families collect
each year for their Christmas nativity scene.

I hung out in the garden, crossed the street to the lemon orchard, walked back into town--in the orchard, a lady was walking her very cute bunny, leashed with a chihuahua-sized harness. As I was making my way back to the hotel, a Sri Lankan man engaged me in conversation. He told me about his dream to open a hotel for tourists in a fancy new home he had bought (showed me pictures on his iPhone), and he was in Italy to work and make some money. He continued to chat me up, then suggested we pop into a nearby cafe to continue the conversation—that’s when I decided to take off. Maybe he was just lonely, missing the wife and son he said he left behind, or maybe he was hungry, as he hadn’t found work as yet. Who knows.

I first thought these were announcements of concerts
until I read them--they're public obituaries,
posted on boards all over town

Stopped in a cafe and spent time talking to a lovely couple from Minnesota. The wife confessed on the way out that the husband had injured himself severely in a motorcycle accident, whch ended their moto touring--they had traveled up Route 1 from San Francisco in the past, and had originally planned on touring the Amafi coast on motorcycles. She said, “after seeing how they drive here, I’m kind of glad we didn’t”. I couldn’t agree more. Driving in Italy is like roulette with large hunks of metal.

How cute are they! 

I came back and listened to a very long promo for a new age-y woman-empowerment seminar supposedly sent to me by a friend. A teensy bit of good info, a lot of jargon-based hype. Empowered, I decided to go out and get a pedicure. I went to a place nearby--it seems a lot of businesses in this town are owned by sisters, in this case, the Elegance Salon of Maria and Raffaela. It seemed like Raffela sanded a pound of dead skin off my feet--I didn t realize how crusty I truly was: All that hopping about dig sites in Pompeii and Herculaneum, not to mention the streets of Delhi and Jaipur, and the volcanic islands of the Galapagos.

How cute are THEY!

After, I popped down to the end of town and secured some more euros, just in case. On the way back, even though I had a ticket for a free drink courtesy of the pedicure sisters at a place called Bar Tiffany (it looked a little dangerous), I went for a falafel at the Kebab Shop--a tiny hole-in-the-wall on a street behind Corso Italo. Excellent kebabs and home-made pita, and pretty much the ONLY non-italian food in town.

Who should walk in but Rick Steves himself, with his Italian guide. I admire him: Rick Steves has managed to parlay a small set of self-written guidebooks into an empire. I went into schoolgirl mode and got all gushy, narrowly avoiding embarrassing myself and everyone else. I had my picture taken with him. Most of the time when you see someone like that, they're disappointingly short or creepy, but this guy was tall--over 6 feet, and a real sweetie. He was friendly, and it occured to me after (perfect timing) that he could probably use a little conversation with someone from home. Oh well.

The narrow alleys of Sorrento, early morning

See more images of Sorrento, Pompeii and Herculaneum on my website gallery page