The island of Capri is alluring and capable of enchanting anyone who comes for a visit. One look at the rugged cliff walls and rock formations will convince you that Homer’s sirens do exist and still sing their seductive songs. We learn from Homer’s mythical book, “The Odyssey,” that it was brave Odysseus himself who ordered his crew to stop their ears with wax as they passed. He had himself tied to a mast with strict orders that no one release him regardless of how much he begged. As a result, they were able to escape the siren’s wail and shipwreck on the calamitous rocks.
High above the sea stands the Villa of San Michele in Anacapri. A long and winding road leads upward into the clouds where you will find the white villa, magical and unique in its ancient setting. Read more →
Oh welcome gentle sea breeze and bright Capri sunlight! Oh rest and beauty, come to me…
Experiencing Capri with my husband for the first time. Great expectations. Weather looking questionable…will it rain or shine?
The days have been filled with non-stop dashing, bustling, climbing, darting, hastening and scurrying through the gritty grandeur of Naples. We are ready for a warm retreat.
We dock with the ferry, gather our backpacks, and wind our way through Capri’s Marina Grande. All is white everywhere…white buildings, white clothing, even a white sky….but the sky over Capri should be blue!
As we climb the steps toward the village, I watch the wind gently tease the little white sails on the harbor boats. Small whitecaps begin to form on the green-blue sea.
We check our map to mark our route, then cram ourselves onto a tiny overcrowded bus that will take us up, up the winding little back streets to Anacapri, the smaller of the islands two main villages.
After getting off the bus, we begin our fifteen minute hike through orchards and lemon groves. As we pass a spattering of small country homes, our pathway brings us to our lodgings for the night. The building was large and spacious, with rooms off the hallway. All was quiet as we seemed to be the only ones there. The clouds begin to hem us in like the batting of a quilt.
We awake the next morning to the sound of wind blowing against the glass. Stepping outside, my heart sinks. No warm exotic weather for us! The wind has changed from playful to billowing.
“When life hands you a lemon….”
We decide to brave the storm and walk down the winding pathway to the little village. The rain begins its banter, giving expression to the swirling wind. My cheeks feel its cool sweep as I lean into it, determined to make our destination.
“Know’st thou the land where the pale citrons grow…thither with thee, O, thither would I wend!” Goethe’s ‘Mignon’s Song’
Finding shelter under the lemon trees was sweet!
Passing through an orchard we find ourselves in the open, taking in the tumultuous sea. The thick-set heather and myrtle was all around us, frisking in the wind along the open terrain, holding tightly onto their plot of earth like rocks. Cypress trees sway and dip. My hair quickly morphs into a tangled mess.
We find a small store and buy bread, prosciutto, cheese and gherkins to make sandwiches back in our room. Choosing a couple of books on display, “The Story of San Michele,” and “The Twelve Caesars,” we retrace our steps back through the elements of the raging gods. Heads down, enduring the pelt of rain and buffeting of wind, our pilgrims bodies once more find the comfort of ‘home.’
We dry off with warm showers, make our prosciutto, cheese and gherkin sandwiches, and find hot chocolate from the kitchen. Tucking ourselves into our magnificent bed with airy white comforters, we begin to cherish the simplicity of the day. It was not what we had hoped for, but better than we could have imagined. Our sandwiches were the best, the hot chocolate delightful, and our books kept us engaged with some of Capri’s most illustrious former residents–the generous Axel Munthe (click for my article on this amazing man) and the unforgettable Caesars of the early Roman empire.
We made lemonade….
In the land where the pale citrons grow.
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