Anyhoo...thanks for sitting through this stuff. It feels like the 60's when people would sit you down to look at their slide shows.
We were done with Naples and it was time to get the rental car we'd be in for the rest of the trip. A VW Caravalle van.
Spacious for 6. Think it is time to talk about the road for a couple of minutes. This is a new car with plenty of USB inputs, but we could not figure out how to link my Bluetoothless iPod to the sound system. That was trouble...a lot of the music on there is not for anyone other than myself and a few like minded friends, but I have a ton of great songs that anyone can enjoy and had a bunch of mellow classic playlists ready for the many hours on the road ahead. I know that no one else had the library I did and that their stuff was as awful to me as my worst 15 minute guitar wailing Yo La Tengo skronk would be to them. Fortunately, on my cell phone were dozens of KEXP live podcasts. KEXP is a great station and has something for everybody. They do a ton of in studio performances that sound as good as if they were done in recording studios and from bands from all genres. I have things on my phone from all genres and during this trip, I hit play at A and we got through the letter T. A lot of them were my kind of jangly or punky bands, but there was a bunch of jazz and world stuff in there too. They are on air performances so between songs, the DJ's would talk to the artists. We heard music from (among others) Ukraine, Mali, Israel, Japan, Iceland, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Mexico and Germany. Wasn't allowed to crank it, but good (I thought) driving music.
Also in the van with us was Tiffany Amber Theissen. That is the name we gave to the GPS machine we rented that was mostly invaluable and sometimes mind boggling. She would take us on the most direct route, which sometimes meant a glorified donkey path or a narrow alley where the review mirrors would brush along the parked cars. Not a huge deal to me as that is my morning commute, but a bit disconcerting to those used to the ample byways of the States. Another thing that "Tiff" wasn't good at was seeing real time traffic. At certain times, Betty would turn on her Google maps and it would give us a slightly different route and there would be a group discussion about directions. There is nothing a driver likes more than 4 people (and machines) telling him 4 different ways to go. The Boy was my designated co-pilot and he has been well trained (by me) as to how to be dependable and calm at shotgun. We made a boo-boo here and there but overall, a superior effort navigationally.
I drive fast. Some (including many in law enforcement) would call it speeding, but don't feel that I drive recklessly. Am totally confident behind the wheel and feel that way due to vast experience (conceived in a car for crying out loud) and my record on collisions is spotless. I also understand that being a passenger is unpleasant for most. I almost can't do it...dread having to take a taxi and loathe other people driving me. And am acutely aware of motion sickness cause I get it bad. We were on a lot of winding mountain roads and got some grmbles from the back seat about taking turns too fast. I want you all to know that I tried my best to smooth them out but it was gonna happen and we did have to get to our destination eventually. All in all, going in I felt like a great driver, but by the end of the trip, I felt I was more than that. Traveling in Italy, religion is a constant companion. Churches are a major destination everywhere and the culture has been directed by Christianity for 2000 years. By the end of this trip, I was feeling a bit divine cause with regularrlity, as we were flying down the autostrade passing oil rigs or narrolwly going past cars coming the opposite way on hairpin mountain turns, I kept hearing "Jesus" from the back seats. I hear you my children.
A common stereotype of the Italians are that they are rude drivers and I find them to be quite the opposite. They do drive fast, which I respect, but they also adhere to proper road etiquette. Stay out of the fast lane unless passing is massive for them and they all do it with a religious fervor. Another example is at a roundabout...when you come to one, you give way tot he car in the circle. In Taiwan, they barrel into them and pretend to look straight ahead so they can claim they didn't see you. That's bullshit Taiwan drivers, I know what you are doing and wish you'd knock that crap off. You'd be way cooler.
Finally, the van performed well. It had some kick when you put down the pedal which is a necessity in a pass-happy culture. The only problem we had was that it was a diesel. Diesel isn't a problem in itself, it's just that they burn dirty. To combat it, they are making them with catalytic converters that need a special lubricant. We learned that the kind for our ride was called AdBlue. When we got in the car, it said in a dashboard warning light in Italian something about AdBlue and 800 kilometers. At each 50 kilometer interval, it'd beep. At one refueling stop, we asked a cop about it and they looked at it and pointed to a diesal additive and said...well not said but gave us the Italian hand gesture of 'don't worry about it'. When it warning for 50 kilometers left came on, I said aloud, "I wonder what it'll do when it gets to zero?" It got to zero on the road from Siracusa to Palermo and we kept on trucking. It was time for a pee break so wew pull into the gas station for a wiz and espresso.
Quick tangent...the quick espressos are fantastic and everywhere. 60 to 80 cents, you order one up, it's at your hand in 20 seconds, down the gullet in 20 more and you're on your way. Simply the way to organize a society.
We pull into this station and it has the coffee bar as they all do, but it's not the best we've seen. We went into one of them previously and not only was immaculately clean and there was a bakery on site with the widest array of delightful pasteries and panninis you could imagine. Better appointed than a Whole Foods and smelled elicious. The one we pulled into after the AdBlue went to zero was not this kind, but it did the trick for a bathroom stop. Back in the car, we then learned what happens when AdBlue goes to zero...the car won't start. Shit...we are in rural Sicily, which means not a ton of tourists and not a lot of reason for the local gas jockeys to learn English to accommodate them. A prolonged game of charades then ensued and we learned a couple things. The cop who earlier said it ain't no big thing was dead wrong, and the additive needed for this ride, which I assumed at the time would be a common thing in an EU country that has a ton of diesel machines like ours, is also not carried everywhere. After pulling out the car manual (who woulda thought of that 600 kilometers ago?) and more gesturing and broken conversations between our contingent and the Italians and they finally communicate to us that they are gonna drive some over from another station a few kilometers away.
Check out that Mazzeratti hearse.
Dude arrives about 30 minutes later with a couple gallons and here is something else we learned...Italian gas stations don't have funnels. Getting it into the tank was not going to be easy.
Success. It works way better, they get it down the hatch and the van starts up. That moment where Betty and the Italians are working together to make something better was a highlight of the trip for me. I felt like I was on the Marco Polo expedition and they put noodles and tomatoes together for the first time. It was an epic moment of human history just like that.
We ordered a few things to share and AM ordered a pizza insalata. I will say that the further away we got from Naples, the better the pizza was, but this night, the insalata pizza was a lovely cheese one with a flaky crust, but topped with a huge pile of lettuce. Not arugula or some fancy baby spinach...just raw iceberg. I could simply not understand it and thought it was perhaps the dumbest thing I have ever been served. Raw, uncooked lettuce on a pizza? Why? Put a vegetable on the pizza if you feel the need, but something with no nutritional value and little fiber content is simply ridiculous. As I am wont to do, I railed on the pizza for the next 24 hours, but we were so delighted with Gilda that we all returned the next night. AM must have been sick of my ranting on her pizza choice (which is understandable) so ordered it again I am sure to either spite me or keep my aggravation going (and probably both). Gilda entertained us again in fine form the second night too. For example, towards the end of the meal, she picked AM and asked if she wanted to play a little game. She takes her to the other side of the restaurant to a table with an elderly couple that spoke no English. Don't know what went on in that conversation, but they came back a few minutes later and Gilda set-up an arm wrestling contest between our contender and the old lady. With the entire restaurant (staff and patrons)watching, the American took down the old Italian lady. Then Gilda, who could pose for the picture of solid rural Italian mom sat across from AM and took her out. Everyone had a good laugh and she gave AM a little shot glass from the town and a jar of preserves made by the grandmother. After the relatively disappointing food of Naples and the good but expensive chow in Sorrento the afternoon before, we started to hit our culinary stride.
On our second day on the Amalfi coast, we decided to hire a driver/guide to show us around the towns. Francesco arrived on time and had a deluxe Mercedes van and we were off. It was grey and drizzly at times, and the towns were super quiet for the off season, but you could totally get the vibe as to how amazing it must be in the peak season. We started in Ravello, which is in a hill just above the coast and hosts a summer long concert series in simply spectacular setting.
We popped into the city of Amalfi next for a stroll through the town and duomo
And finally, spent an hour or so in Positano...
Francesco was a decent guide. I do the majority of booking the hotels and tours, but the ladies sourced Francesco and it was immediately obvious they chose him cause of his profile picture. They didn't deny it either, calling him a hottie. A bit shallow, but I get it. He shows up, and as a man in touch with his feminine side, I didn't think he was all that. He did have a nice head of that long and snakey Italian hair...the kind where he is constantly touching it...pulling it out of his face and such. It looks great but damn if it doesn't annoy me when they are constantly primping it out. Call me jealous if you'd like and no question I have always wanted hair that blows in the wind and looks just like it.
So we are driving around and he is giving us a decent tour with good info and photo-op shots...but then I made the mistake of making a joke/insulting the Italians a bit. I see a ratty Kia or Hyundai on the road and ask to Francesco, 'why would anyone buy a crappy Hyundai here in Italy when you already have your own shitty Fiats?' He gets defensive and asks me if I know what they call Fords. Of course I do. Found On The Road Dead he says. I counter with Fucked Over Rejected Dodge and add that Fiats are called Fix It Again Tonys.
Later in the day, I ask Francesco where he learned his English. I find it helpful to compliment the local guides on their ability to speak it so well first as I know it is hard to speak multiple languages and have complete respect for those that make the effort to do so. Second, it pumps them up a bit and maybe we get a little extra on our tour. Francesco says he learned it in school but has visited the States several times and spent a couple months in NYC last winter. He loved NY and specifically, going to Broadway musicals. At this point, he is either feeling comfortable with us or is still miffed at my attack on the beloved Fiat, and he starts telling us what he finds wrong with Americans. I kept a list.
- American refrigerate everything. Sorry that we invented refrigeration dude.
- He alluded that Americans were stupid citing a girl that he met, and said he wanted to date but never did (you can't fool me with that posing Francesco...your fondness for Broadway musicals is a dead giveaway). They were talking about how hot it gets in town in the summer and he said it can get to 100 degrees and she said to him "in Celsius". That is dumb as 100 Celsius is the temperature where water boils, but concluding that Americans are not world wise cause one of us didn't know the intricacies of Celsius seems a bit unfair. I've lived for years in metric countries and still have a hard time knowing the conversion without looking it up.
- We are also completely ignorant of geography apparently cause one tourist asked if she could see Yugoslavia from there. Granted, Yugoslavia is on the other side of Italy. And Yugoslavia hasn't existed as a country for 25 years. And Americans are notoriously poor in geography, but there are people that don't know stuff everywhere and some don't give a shit about geography anyway. I held back on this one even though I wanted to challenge him to a geography quiz on the spot.
- He questioned the American affinity for garlic bread volunteering that Italians would never eat it. I asked if he ever tried it and did he enjoy it if he did and he replied that it was good. So...not only what is your problem with our fondness of a piece of delectable golden brown and crunchy garlic bread, but why don't Italians make it if it is good?
- Finally, we American "categorize" everything and something always has to be "the best". He cited a tourist who was saying at dinner one night that the gnocchis he was eating were the best he ever had. The next morning, this same guy said that the sunrise was the best he had ever seen, or something like that. So what? It's a figure of speech. Kind of like saying 'how are you' but not really wanting to know.
All in all a good day. The Amalfi area would be worth a return visit, but you want to do it right, which means coming in the summer and being prepared to spend a mint in accommodations and luxuries. And we were able to get a running gag for the trip. Whenever I was bored, would do a Francesco accent and start saying things like, 'Americans a-like-a their toilet-a paper soft-a', which provided hours of entertainment. As we said goodbye to Francesco that day, I told him we had a nice time and that he was THE BEST tour guide we ever had.
We faced a 4+ hour drive to our next destination the next day, but kept our sightseeing options on the way open in the advance plan in hopes of hearing about something to do from our interactions with the locals. Naples Daniela mentioned a mozzarella factory on the way and when we inquired about it with Francesco, he gave a glowing (for him) review that made it our must-see.
We found ourselves mid-morning on the grounds of Tenuta Vannulo.
Italy's only organic buffalo mozzarella producer, we were the only visitors there and they were kind enough to give us a tour without reservations. I learned a ton about the product and will never eat another caprese salad the same way. First, water buffaloes were brought to Italy from India at least two thousand years ago, but the exact when/how/who did it has been lost to history. Vannulo uses only water buffalo milk (as opposed to most others producers who combine it with cow's milk). They produce 400 kgs of the white gold daily and it is sold only locally as it can not be refrigerated. Theirs is non-pasteurized (which is what makes it organic) and the cows are never milked or handled by humans (apparently, they don't care much for the human touch). They are milked by specially made (in Sweden) machines. The buffaloes are micro-chipped and daily, they know to go into the machines and if they have been in too recently, the machine reads it and they are turned away. Otherwise, they go in and an infrared scanner spots the teats, affixes these milking machines and away they go. I rarely take videos and have never tried to attach one to this journal, but hope this works,
There was a history of the farm museum that had neat photos of the old days, the old equipment and this delivery van.
The store that sells the mozzarella is there too and most of it is pre-ordered, but they have some same day sales and we were lucky enough to get a kilo to take away. We were told...actually we were implored under some Italian rule of etiquette, to not refrigerate it and it'd be good for three days. It didn't take that long as we greedily enjoyed it on a piece of warm bread the next morning. I know for my part, I will never be able to eat another piece of mozzarella without comparing it unfavorably to this amazing moment.
The Yogurtaria next door is a café, and we collectively got some ice cream, some pudding to take away, and a buffalo milk cappuccino for yours truly. At our end of trip retrospective dinner, every single one of us put this tour in our top two things we did.
I think that should do it for today...banged this one out watching my beloved Raiders lose, but the Seahawks just took care of business, so will see you next week.
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