Tag Archives: italy

Positively Positano, Amalfi Coast

October 20, 20163-bottom, Citizen Journalism, Entertainment, Food, Travelitaly, Lynn Strough, Positano, Travel, Travelynn TalesJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

Positano and the Amalfi coast are gorgeous, no question about that. But they have price tags to match. So what is a budget traveler to do? After a little research, I discovered that you can stay in tiny Piano de Sorrento and take buses and trains that link the pricier towns together at a fraction of the cost. And even better, I got to stay in a super affordable hostel in an old Monastery, with bells chiming, lovely staff and some of the nuns still hanging around.

Sisters Hostel is only a few minutes’ walk from nice swimmable beaches, and little trattorias, where you can dine to your heart’s content, on pasta, fresh seafood, fig torte… You can still get a $5 pizza fresh out of the oven at family run places, where Mama and her daughter will serve you while Papa, who resembles a benign Godfather, looks on…

A short walk to the train station, and an even shorter train ride, will take you to Sorrento, where you can catch a scenic bus along the coast down to Positano and Amalfi. My bus was full, but that didn’t stop dozens more people from climbing aboard and squeezing in, so I followed suit. It was standing room only, so I stood, jam-packed in the aisle on the most winding road I’ve ever seen with sheer drops down to the sea dotted with what looked like toy boats. I could see the driver — he was talking on the phone, holding the phone to his ear with his right hand, while driving that huge bus on those snake-like roads at the edge of precipitous cliffs.

And then he started talking with his left hand, as Italians are prone to do. Um, wait, if his right hand is holding a phone to his ear and his left hand is fluttering about in the air speaking sign language…who’s steering the bus? On top of all that, the older Italian woman next to me kept trying to show him a magazine. But we made it to Positano.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Positano is positively beautiful, with colorful buildings spilling down the steep hillside to the sea. Stop on your walk down from the bus stop for a frozen lemon slush, the ice cold sweet and sour taste is divine. Lots of fun clothing, jewelry, ceramic and shoe shops, along with art galleries and stands, line the way.

And the beach, dotted with neon umbrellas, beckons you into the azure sea for a swim. The water is the perfect temperature, cool enough to be refreshing, but warm enough to feel like silk. I floated and swam, got out, heated up and did it again. The views from the water are astonishing — rainbow houses stacked like blocks form a giant triangle up the steep hillside.

If you’re hungry, plenty of restaurants wait nearby, most of them with a view… As I was taking a photo of my wine glass with the umbrellas and the sea in the background, one of the young employees called out, “Wait!” and he brought me a little bowl of peanuts with a small silver spoon and arranged it near my wine glass for my picture.

Suddenly, while I was swimming, a storm blew in. And I do mean suddenly! One minute it’s sunny and lots of people are frolicking in the water, the next minute thunder is rumbling and a huge gray line of clouds is rapidly advancing on us, waves kicked up and umbrellas tipping over.

I stumbled out of the sea (it’s very rocky and sharp on the soles of your feet), and as I struggled to slip my shirt on, my lounge chair blew over. Dozens of us raced up the beach towards the row of restaurants. Huge jags of lightning streaked from heaven to sea, but the sky only dropped a few specks of rain. As hordes of tourists swarmed up the narrow zigzagging streets that climb the hill, I figured the bus would be packed, with everyone leaving at once.

I was right, the street was lined with dozens of people waiting. Luckily, despite the thunder and lightning, the rain held off. I happened to be standing next to a lovely lady from South Africa, and we kept each other company, comparing travel notes, while we waited a half hour for the next bus. We could tell not everyone would fit on — the bus was coming from Amalfi, and the seats were already full. When the bus stopped and the doors opened, the crowd surged forward, a mini-stampede.

Complaints were heard in English, with American accents, “Hey, wait! We’ve been waiting here 45 minutes, you just got here, that’s not fair!” as newcomers pushed ahead to the front of the line. Cultural differences — in America you get skewered for line-cutting, here it’s a way of life. My South African friend and I pushed ahead with the rest of the Italians, and although we stood for the whole hour ride to Sorrento, at least we got on the bus.

And just in time, it appeared, as the heavens opened up and the rain poured down. It grew even darker and the winding road looked like a slick black snake. Heat wrapped around us, and motion sickness threatened, but I managed to keep it in check. The drive took longer than it should have, as a middle-aged German couple couldn’t figure out which stop was theirs, so they kept ringing the stop button over and over, then not getting off. But eventually we made it, just in time for me to catch the last train back to Piano. (Sorry, no windstorm disaster photos.)

It’s another hour ride further down the coast to Amalfi from Positano, though I have to say to me, Amalfi is not as nice; it’s much more commercial and more expensive. The beach is kind of a carnival, basted with tons of bodies, but people looked like they were having fun. It depends on what you’re looking for.

About Lynn Strough

Lynn is a 50+ free spirit whose incarnations in this life have included graphic designer, children’s book author and illustrator, public speaker, teacher, fine art painter, wine educator in the Napa Valley, and world traveler. Through current circumstances, she has found herself single, without a job or a home, and poised for a great adventure.

“You could consider me homeless and unemployed, but I prefer nomad and self-employed, as I pack up my skills and head off with my small backpack and even smaller savings to circumnavigate the globe (or at least go until the money runs out). Get ready to tag along for the ride…starting now!”

All images copyright Lynn Strough and Travelynn Tales

Reprinted with permission

Pompeii: History rising from the ashes

October 13, 20163-bottom, Citizen Journalismherculaneum, italy, Lynn Strough, pompeii, TravelJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

Sweaty bodies. Women flapping fans. It was standing room only on the train to Pompeii, temps hovering around 100 degrees. I’m wishing I brought my day pack with a water bottle, the small fan my Japanese Air B&B host gave me as a gift, and my umbrella for shade instead of my small purse, but it’s too late now.

On the good advice from my hostel host, I already had a tour ticket so I didn’t have to wait in line. If you go to Pompeii, definitely pay for a tour — it brings a place that would otherwise be a lot of dusty roads, stones and bricks to life. Our very nice and smart young guide, an archeologist by degree and experience, gave a great tour and she handled the large group like a pro.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We learned about where people lived, how they lived, their bath houses and their lead plumbing, which led to mental illness and short lifespans.

We were shown how their road systems worked, using stones for people to walk across above the roads where the waste flowed, that were placed just the right distance apart for carriage wheels to roll through, and how little chips of white stone were embedded between the large paving stones, to glow like reflectors in the moonlight.

We were told about the red light district, with “arrow” carvings in the road to lead the sailors to the brothels, about the public meeting places and the “fast food” restaurants.

Row upon row of vases, sculptures and other antiquities line shelves at the site, like some form of ancient self-storage units, giving you a glimpse into the possessions of the people of Pompeii.

Our guide wisely told us to buy a bottle of water for a euro at the ticket office before we set off, as there were none for sale after the tour started. Once you had a water bottle, you could refill it at various fountains throughout the site — don’t worry, the lead pipes have been replaced.

I’d heard about Pompeii as a child, but it turns out there are several different cities that were buried by the volcano — Pompeii is just the biggest and most well known. It was buried in ash, whereas Herculaneum was buried under lava. So the people of Pompeii were actually killed by falling debris and suffocation from the ash. Quite horrific.

After the tour, we were allowed to stay as long as we wanted, to go to the arena for a special exhibit of the plaster casts of many of the victims. They were able to drill holes into the hardened ash, and pour plaster down into the cavity around the bones where the bodies had decomposed and left spaces, then carefully chip away the ash to leave plaster casts of bodies in frightening positions — sad, scary and macabre all at once.

When the tour split up, the guide gave me her map, and three young women from the group came up to me and asked if they could share it. “Sure,” I said, and a fourth woman came along as well. The three were from Lebanon, and one of them was living in Canada, near Toronto. “Not far from Michigan, where I”m from,” I pointed out. The fourth, who was traveling on her own, was Italian but grew up in Canada and had lived in Windsor — just over the border from Michigan — but has been living in the UK for the past three years. Small world, we all agreed.

The site at Pompeii is huge, about a half-hour walk from one side to the other. Besides the plaster cast exhibit, on the opposite side there was another, very well-preserved house with a newly restored fresco. It was worth the long, hot trudge over the dusty uneven roads. I’d drank about four bottles of water by then but this was Italy, so there were no toilets in all of the archeological sites. I was absolutely thrilled when one appeared at the exit right when we left the last house with the frescoes. Just something to bear in mind.

Right outside the exit, a lovely little very Italian restaurant appeared. The three girls from Lebanon said they needed to catch a bus, inviting me to visit them in their home country as we parted ways. The woman living near Cambridge and I decided to stay for lunch. They had a fixed-price menu for 15 euro that included either spaghetti with clams, or gnocchi with tomato sauce and basil, a seafood plate with calamari, anchovies, shrimp, and octopus, a basket of bread, a mixed salad, some little fried bread balls with tiny pieces of seaweed in them, and coffee or a slice of chocolate cake for dessert — a very good deal for a tourist hot spot.

We had a lively conversation about education — she’s a teacher — and it’s Italy, so there is no pressure to give up your table. The restaurant was filled with funny statues and bottles and fishing nets, an eclectic mess, and the old guy in charge (probably the owner) fussed over us. We caught the same train though she got off first, promising to friend me on Facebook, a great way to stay in touch with fellow travelers.

You meet the nicest people on the road! It was a fun and educational day at Pompeii.

About Lynn Strough

All images copyright Lynn Strough and Travelynn Tales

Reprinted with permission

A day on the Isle of Capri

October 6, 20163-bottom, Citizen Journalism, Entertainment, Travelbeaches, capri, isle of capri, italy, Lynn Strough, sorrento, TravelJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

The Isle of Capri — even the name sounds romantic!

To stay on the island would be lovely (and cost a king’s ransom), but for a much smaller sum, you can take an all-day tour. The driver met me in the lobby of my hostel and brought me to the harbor in Sorrento, where the boat captain and the rest of the guests were waiting. We climbed aboard Blu Toy, a medium-sized dark blue powerboat, and whizzed off across the azure sea. I sat out on the large cushioned bow next to a young Irish couple on their honeymoon, a happy synchronicity, as that’s my next country destination when I leave Italy.

We motored for about 15 minutes, then Captain Sebastian and his first mate Piero dropped anchor, handed us foam noodles and sent us off into the sea for a swim, which was great, as at 10 am it was already hot. The cool sea water felt superb. When we climbed back aboard, we headed for Capri, past Mt. Vesuvius and the isle of Ischia, swinging into a couple of caves near the shore, and then up to and through the two famous giant rocks, an icon for Capri.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We wound around several giant yachts and anchored in Marina Piccola, the little harbor, which apparently is much more quaint and scenic than the larger main harbor. A small beach stretched out along the shore, densely populated with bikini-clad bodies, bright umbrella and rainbow blow-up rafts. We motored in to shore in a rubber dinghy, and climbed the stairs to a restaurant for lunch. It’s Italy, so of course we eat pizza.

The town of Capri is up a hill, so we took a little bus. It was standing room only, on a very zig-zagging road about one lane wide, so it was interesting to see how two buses going in opposite directions pass each other (barely). Disgorged onto a busy street full of souvenir shops and tourists (in August, the busiest month of the year), across from a drop-dead gorgeous view of the bay dotted with yachts. I spied a stand selling lemon ice in fresh squeezed orange juice and ordered one up. It was the most refreshing drink I’ve ever tasted, all sweet and sour and cold.

I wandered down the street, which soon narrowed into passageways lined with the more upscale designer shops, fun to look in the windows though I didn’t go in – white linen dresses and suit coats, $150 Dolce & Gabbana baby shoes, sparkling jewelry which probably sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars, shops for celebrity budgets.

Flowers blossomed everywhere, bright pink against the blue, blue ocean and blue, blue sky. I wandered past 5-star hotels, knowing I could live and travel for a month on what people pay to stay there for two nights. Would I mind staying there? Um, no. But do I need to, in order to be a happy traveler. Not at all.

We had four hours to explore the island, or we could go back to the beach or boat to swim; I had planned to go back after about three hours but took a wrong turn — a good one it turns out — as I ended up by some stairs where for 1 euro you could enter a garden with the best views on the island (or so the sign said) but it turned out to be true. The gardens were edged with an iron fence overlooking the cliffs leading down to the bay, where you could see the iconic rocks and tons of boats speckled around them. Breathtaking!

It’s fun to take your time and wander away from the crowded spots, up stairs, down paths. Sometimes you see the inner workings of a place that way, like how packages are delivered.

When I got back to the harbor, the dingy took me out to the boat, where most of the other people were already swimming or drinking beer, and I immediately doffed my tank top and skirt and jumped into the sea to cool off. Aaaahhh!! Soooo nice!!! The only thing that got me out was an ice cold drink.

On our way back, we stopped to see another couple of grottos — there’s a green grotto, a white grotto and a blue grotto, and we also stopped to swim again, and snorkel. Then we headed to Sorrento, the sun still hot on our backs, and said our farewells. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t go on a lot of tours, but this one was totally worthwhile.

My driver back to my hostel had a bus instead of a car, and I was the only passenger. He spoke English and we chatted — he gave me a restaurant recommendation, and he also told me I should get a job as a tour guide and meet an Italian man, that they’re very romantic.

I love Italy!

About Lynn Strough

All images copyright Lynn Strough and Travelynn Tales

Reprinted with permission

Cinque Terre, Italy’s string of gems

September 23, 20163-bottom, Citizen Journalism, Education, Entertainment, Food, Holidays, Travelcinque terre, fun, italy, Lynn Strough, TravelJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

Cinque Terre (translated The Five Lands), a Unesco World Heritage Site, is a necklace of five seaside villages strung along the Italian Riviera. It’s some of the most beautiful and dramatic coastal scenery anywhere in the world (my opinion, but also that of countless others).

The colorful villages are linked by hiking trails that wind along the coast, up high through olive groves and vineyards, and down low along the water. The whole trail is known as Sentiero Azzurro, or the Azure Trail, and the part of the trail from Riomaggiore to Manarola is called the Via dell’Amore or the Road of Love. A fence overlooking the sea is embedded with hundreds of padlocks, souvenirs from visitors sealing their love for each other. A train also links the towns, mostly through tunnels, for those who grow footsore or weary, and boats cruise the coastline as well. No cars are allowed.

When I was there the first time, in 2008, you could walk from the first village to the last in a day, albeit a long day. But in October 2011, a flash flood washed out some of the trails, buried streets and homes in mud, and killed nine people. They have recovered relatively quickly, although not all of the trails are open yet. Still, the ones that are give you astonishing views of the villages and sea, and there are plenty of other things to do in this popular tourist destination. (This time I was there in August, but my recommendation is to go in either June or September to avoid the massive crowds.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Stay in one of the villages, if you can, in order to be able to fully enjoy your time in Cinque Terre, especially the peaceful evenings when people head out and stroll through the towns and watch the sun set. Both visits I stayed at Cinqueterre Residence, high up on a hill in Riomaggiore, a small, family-run establishment where they treat you like you’re one of the family. We had great views from our balcony, and they serve a tasty breakfast, including cappuccino with a smile.

Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso are all worth a visit, full of gorgeous architecture, a profusion of flowers, shops galore, and many, many dining establishments, from tiny trattorias to fancier ristorantes, or just pick up snacks along the streets. They’re known for their local limoncello, basil, garlic and pinenut-filled pesto, and anchovies (if you ever thought you didn’t like anchovies, you haven’t tried these!), as well as focaccia in many different variations — rosemary, olive, tomato, cheese. And of course, there’s plenty of gelato.

The main thing to do in Cinque Terre is hike, between the villages, but also in the hills above, where you can get away from some of the tourist crowds. Check your guidebooks, as some of the hikes are relatively easy, but others are quite strenuous, especially in the summer sun. Bring plenty of water, but if you’re lucky, you just might find someone selling fresh-squeezed juice along the way.

You can also hang out at the beach. The longest and busiest beach is in Monterosso, with chairs and umbrellas for rent, and sand that’s soft on your feet. You’ll find other beaches as well, in other villages which are less crowded but tend to be rocky.

Shopping is a pastime for some, and you can certainly pick up lots of souvenirs, but my souvenirs, with my shoestring budget and small backpack, mostly consist of photos, and there are plenty of photo opportunities here.

If you’re in the area for a while, and you want a day trip away from the Cinque Terre, check out Portofino, a short train ride up the coast. It’s full of high-end shops and the yachting crowd. Colorful buildings line the harbor, and you can rub elbows with the rich and famous, although be prepared for prices to match.

Cinque Terre, like many beautiful places, has become perhaps a little too popular, but it’s so beautiful, it’s definitely worth braving the crowds to see.

About Lynn Strough

All images copyright Lynn Strough and Travelynn Tales

Reprinted with permission

Visions of Venice

July 28, 20163-bottom, architecture, Citizen Journalism, design, Education, Entertainment, Local Faces, Travelentertainment, gandola, italy, Lynn Strough, Travel, veniceJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

When words simply won’t do… Lynn Strough takes us on a visual journey of Venice.

[huge_it_slider id=”55″]

About Lynn Strough

Lynn is a 50-something-year-old woman whose incarnations in this life have included graphic designer, children’s book author and illustrator, public speaker, teacher, fine art painter, wine educator in the Napa Valley, and world traveler. Through current circumstances, she has found herself single, without a job or a home, and poised for a great adventure.

All images copyright Lynn Strough and Travelynn Tales

Reprinted with permission

Couch Surfing in Treviso, Italy

July 21, 20163-bottom, Education, Entertainment, Food, Travelcouch surfing, italy, Lynn Strough, TravelJoanne

By Lynn Strough

Travelynn Tales

What do you do when you want to go to Venice, but the hotels are way out of your budget, and you’d really rather get to know the locals anyway, than stay in an anonymous hotel in a crazy tourist area?

You try couch surfing!

Couch surfing is more of a cultural exchange than a free place to stay. True, there is no charge (although it’s suggested that you bring your host a small gift, or cook them a meal). If you are not familiar with couch surfing, go to the website for all kinds of information. You become a member (free, or a nominal charge if you want to be “verified”) and then you can host or surf or both. It’s not like a home exchange, you can surf and not host, or host and not surf, and it’s a fantastic way to meet people from all different cultures and make travel more affordable, too.

I unofficially couch surfed at the beginning of my trip in 2014, staying with a woman in Australia that I’d never met, and then with several of her friends. But this was my first official couch surf using the Couch Surfing site. And what a great experience it turned out to be!

My host, Tiziana, an Italian woman about my age, welcomed me with a smile and a big hug, and whisked me off to a huge, late night party where I was the only non-local and non-Italian, and I got to try my very first “spritz,” (prosecco and Aperol). The next night she invited her Couch Surfing friends, both hosts living in the area, as well as their guests, to a dinner at her home to welcome me.

She cooked her grandmother’s pasta recipe for me (I cooked for her as well, although it’s not my area of expertise, so I also gave her a watercolor that I’d painted, and took her out for lunch). She showed me around the city of Treviso, where we dined like the locals in a restaurant full of old phones, checked out the market, and she showed me the architecture as well as telling me a little about the city’s history –- Treviso is known as home of the famous Pinarello bikes.

(continued below slideshow)

[huge_it_slider id=”53″]

I did get to go visit Venice for two of the days that I stayed in Treviso, once on my own, and once with a couple of lovely young couch-surfing girls from Germany. Typically, a couch surf is for one to three days, and Tiziana had agreed to host me for two. But we were having so much fun that she kept extending the invitation to stay longer. We still had to go wine tasting, she told me.

The area is known for its famous prosecco, and we were told to go to a small, boutique winery known for the best. It’s the kind of place where the owner is also the winemaker and tasting room host in his home, with old family portraits on the walls. His mother and daughter came to say hello, and we were given several wines to taste. We were not only not charged, but when we tried to buy some wine to take with us, he insisted on giving it as a gift. There was even a small sculpture garden nearby that he and his daughter showed us on our way out.

But the fun didn’t end there. Also nearby was a tiny but famous restaurant, where there are no employees; you just help yourself to what you want –- bread, cheese, wine, charcuterie, hard boiled eggs –- and then you check yourself out on their register. In the barn attached to the restaurant, a couple of cows lay snoozing, and the view outside where the few tables lay scattered is spectacular.

One of the other local couch surfing hosts invited me to a dinner with even more couch surfing guests. We all pitched in to help with the cooking. Francesco taught us how to play cards, a game called Buracco, and we realized that out of the group of us, we were from six different countries, including Italy, France, Romania, Azerbaijan, Albania, and the U.S.

It’s nice to help pay for gas when your host takes you touring places, and also to offer to help around the house, like doing dishes, cooking prep, laundry, or whatever special skills you might have to offer.

Tiziana asked me to help her out with my art skills and create a sign for her school where she teaches English, and I was happy to oblige. We visited her school, which had just let out for the summer, and she introduced me to some of her colleagues, and provided me with endless amounts of art supplies. Again, not your typical tourist experience.

My couch surfing experience was so amazing that I lined up my next couch surf while still in Treviso –- next stop? Paris!

About Lynn Strough