Seizing the day in sunny Sorrento
In search of la dolce vita, Mary Conroy heads to Sorrento and learns to live each day like it’s her last!
The intense heat of the day is dissipating slowly, and the sun has just slipped below the horizon opposite, leaving a divine shade of light blue stained with the palest coral. Lying between us and the outline of Mount Vesuvius is a sea of terracotta tiles and magnolia apartment buildings, dotted with pine trees… and the Bay of Naples. Sitting in this achingly hip bar located on the rooftop terrace of the Majestic Palace Hotel in Sorrento nursing a wasabi martini, I think: this is the nearest I will ever get to la dolce vita. It’s no wonder that the Irish are the latest invaders of the Sorrentine Peninsula, as our Topflight rep told us earlier. Here, just an hour south of Naples, we really have found a little bit of heaven.
And we’re not the only ones to think so. Sorrento has been a much-loved destination for those in search of sunshine and great food and wine for hundreds of years. Even the ancient Romans, no strangers to the good life, valued the endless vistas over the Tyrrhenian Sea. According to legend, the Sorrentine Peninsula was always a place of intrigue. The entire promontory takes its name from the sirens of Homer’s Odyssey, creatures so beguiling that sailing boat crews navigating these waters that heard their enchanting songs would fail to return home. The appeal is obvious: the people of Sorrento are warm and have a keen sense of humour and irresistible charm. ‘You know what happens to girls who don’t finish their dinner...’ says the waiter at L’Antica Trattoria in the city’s old town as he chides a woman in her early 60s for failing to polish off a huge plate of pasta. The woman can’t help giggling as she joins in, ‘...they get no dessert.’
To tell the truth, I understand the woman’s dilemma: negotiating the quantities of food here is quite a challenge. As soon as we took our seats beneath the pergola, Genaro swooped with a glass of prosecco and a savoury profiterole filled with par me san flavoured cream to welcome us. Delicately fried courgette flower, a delicious aubergine parmigiana and a cialda filled with light lemon cream and fresh fruit all followed. By the time we re-emerge on to the cobbles of Via Padre R Giuliani, a walk is in order.
We are just a few metres from the Corso Italia, the road that connects Sorrento to the rest of Italy, and the spine along which the town forms on either side. But by turning away from the Corso, and following the warren of tiny streets in the opposite direction, we soon alight on the Villa Comunale park and its panoramic cliff views over the Mediterranean.
For an even better view, we take ourselves into the Chiostro di San Francesco, the neighbouring monastery that gifted this park to the city of Sorrento in years gone by. A handful of Franciscan monks still live here (and the attached church hosts an English-language Mass every Saturday evening, officiated by a Fr Murphy from Dublin), and the courtyard of the cloister – intimate and sheltered, with bougainvillea creeping up the romanesque arches – is a popular venue for weddings. Upstairs is an exhibition space that leads out on to a balcony where the azure of the sea and the blue of the sky are framed by the sprawling canopy of a large stone pine tree.
The journey by foot back to the Corso Italia is a joy. You can easily cover it in just a few minutes but why hurry when there are so many opportunities for a little window shopping, checking out the understated style of the locals or, who knows, perhaps stopping for a gelato or a limoncello spritz in one of the countless cafes and watch the world go by?
As undoubtedly beautiful as the heart of Sorrento is, I relish returning to our hotel, the Majestic Palace, which is a 20-minute walk (or short bus ride) away in Sant’Agnello, tucked away on a quiet road off the Corso Italia. The sheltered pool to the front of the hotel is the perfect spot for whiling away an hour or so with a book, while the orange grove to the rear is a real hidden gem.
Overlooking this oasis of peace is the hotel’s Michelin-star restaurant Don Geppi, where chef Mario Affinita is earning a reputation for excellence as he flexes his culinary muscles creating such delicacies as steak tartare fashioned into a fake tomato (complete with ‘skin’ made from the flesh of fresh tomatoes). Service in the boutique restaurant is outstanding, with waitress Maria Laura explaining that the simple line drawing of a rotund man that adorns the menu represents Don Geppi himself – or Geppi Rossano, the owner who opened the hotel in the 1960s. In recent years, he’s handed over the reins to daughter Giulia Rossano but in the few days we’ve been here, we’ve noticed the dignified elderly man who regularly sits in reception, keeping a close eye on things… Don Geppi.
Although it is a 1960s-constructed building, much of the decor draws on the classical styling of 19th Century Italy, while the dining room, where we dine on excellent local fare, is bright and airy. Similarly, our bedroom is modern and sleek, with a balcony that faces Vesuvius. As my travelling companion Sinéad notes, Vesuvius is an ever-constant presence here.
As every schoolchild knows, the mountain wasn’t always such a benign feature of the landscape. In 79AD, the volcanic mountain erupted, spewing lava and hot ash with devastating consequences for the thousands of people who lived at its base. Most people have heard of Pompeii, but nearby Herculaneam was also badly affected. Both towns have been extensively excavated in the two centuries since they were rediscovered, yielding remarkable insights. However, Herculaneam is small and, say people who have visited both, makes for a more manageable visit for the casual student of history. And unlike Pompeii, which was pelted with broiling ash and pumice, Herculaneam was covered to a depth of 24 metres with boiling ‘mud’ which served to preserve the artefacts of the town extremely well.
For instance, you can see the wooden bed (the wood having been carbonised in the eruption, unlike in Pompeii where most wood was simply incinerated) on which the temple attendant would have slept. Our guide Roberta walks us along the old town streets, leading us into a set of Roman baths, taking us through a Roman villa that would have belonged to a typical wealthy family. What’s remarkable is what
EVEN THE ANCIENT ROMANS VALUED THE ENDLESS VISTAS
remains: the distinctive red and blue paintwork in the tepidarium, the large terracotta pots in the ‘takeaways’ where citizens bought their food, the frescoes in the temples, even the public notices at the water fountains issuing dire warnings about abusing the facilities. With Roberta’s commentary, it’s easy to understand how this resort town functioned. A little too easy: it’s with a jolt at the end of the tour that you pass the boat sheds where you can see models of the skeletal remains of townspeople who, on that fateful day in 79AD, gathered on the beach, hoping in vain for a rescue vessel that never came.
If this journey into the past teaches me anything, it is to seize the moment. Enjoy every stroll along the bustling Corso Italia, relish every gelato, and savour every single wasabi Martini.