Rising to Capri

We stayed up late trying ot book charters to Capri, an island off the Napoli Coast.  Corbett and I finally gave up and pronounced to Ted that we had to go in person.

We did and we made it!

But first, we kill an hour in a different part of Napoli.  We have a cappuccino and Corbett has a cheesecake and an orange Fanta.  We watch the students, mothers and business people cross and recross the piazza.  A very nice spot except for the cigarettes.  The outdoors is always full of smokers.

Eleven comes and we are on the fast "jet" to Capri.  It is really a giant catamaran to the island.  Forty Five minutes total.  We get off the boat and try and orient.  Then I see the funicolare.  Love those.  Up and up and Ted not feeling the love so much.  Heights he says.  But aww the view.

I don't have photos of this, but the buses and the trucks and the cars and the anything else traveling on the road of Capri are truly the bravest and most technical people I can think of.  Today, the buses were so close that we felt the breath of the other riders.  Ted said there was an extra three inches, but I did not see it.  And on our right, the cliff straight down.  Look across the photo above and imagine driving around the rocky protrusions.  The drivers inching forward, squeezing busses into fiat size streets, mirrors in, people gasping, and me - I am sure that I tried to suck my belly into my lungs to help the cause.  And even then, with no buses coming, the roads sidle the edge and the lady next to me is doing the sign of the cross (a catholic thing).  Her boyfriend tries to comfort her and I tell Ted, there are worse ways to die.  And then the experience is in the past, as we are out on the streets and taking in the island views.

In case you are wondering, men from America act like men from America even in Italy.  "Do you know where you are going?"  "of course!"  Do you want to look at a map?  "Well that is inconvenient, but if you insist."  Should I ask someone for directions, Ted says?  Well yes.  And then we turn 180 and head up the hill not down the hill.

 Nope, no directions needed at all, why do you ask?

Ana Capri

We walk the top of the island.  One of the tourist offering is a lift up the mountain in single chairs, like a ski lift.   Ted does not want to ride the swinging chairs up the mountain as the clouds are covering the top.  I am sure he just doesn't want to ride the solo swinging chairs.  He is accompanied by a woman from New Hampshire, saying "no way!"  Ted offers to stay and have a beer with her while the rest of us go up.  But we decide to keep walking.  We have to be back at the port by four thirty and Ted is worried about time.  We take a short cut through the town, following the lovely Italian ladies below.  The view is the perfect ending to another day in paradise as we are told boarding our catamaran back to Napoli.  But if I ever come back, the swinging chairs for me!

A perfect end to the day indeed.

Adieu Jolie Avignon

This is one of my favorite photos because of the light and the view across the river.  We were waiting on a small ferry that make limited free runs.  We caught the last one for the night.  As Charles walks us through the piloting of the boat and the motor and how the captain must swing wide, he notes that the captain is very good.  He must be quite skilled.  When the boat was tied off by the old deck hand, the young blonde female captain, opened the door to wait for the loading of people.  How refreshing!

He looks French already!

Back at our little apartment, we readied for the trip the next morning.  Another train ride and then four nights in Lyon.

The Train to Lyon

The trip itself was uneventful.  We researched the night before the station and the length of time to arrive at the next apartment.  We had booked with #airbnb all the way through and so far no problems with the reservations.  We also managed to easily find the train and platform, though I must admit it took me twice to comprehend Twelve fifty two in French.  I actually have the numbers down, its just that it is not always easy to hear them as fast as necessary - if that makes sense.

The train turned out to be a double decker and we rode up top.  The view is better but the luggage must be toted up there with you in a small winding staircase.  Sorry guys, I am taking all the small bags.  Meet you up top!

All seated, we took off and the short hour ride was pleasant.  Ears popping as we ascend to the new altitudes.  Charles is dozing and reading.  His favorite way to travel.  Patrick buries his head in a book from Theodore Frank.  I try to concentrate on a magazine, but I find my eyes wandering to the view and then up and down the aisles.  The people are just as interesting. The guy next to Pat is hip hop clothed.  The woman across from Charles sporting a British flag bag.  The young mother walking her chattering young daughter to the water closet (WC).

We arrive and depart the train in the reverse order and walk into the Gare station.  Taxi easy to identify and he drives us right to our destination in ten minutes.  We are early, so we stand on the corner eyeing the neighborhood and waiting for our hostess.  She is just a few minutes late and lets us in quickly.  She is adorable and has relatively understandable English.  You can tell she has done this before.  We gather all our information and then she informs us that all stores and restaurants are closed because it is Sunday.  There is one Exception:

DOMINO'S FR Pizza

So we eat something here that I wouldn't eat at home.  But it tasted good and we split two beers three ways and settled in for the evening.  By 8;30 pm, we are all but asleep.  Good night Lyon, see you in the morning!