Dispatch from Capri, Italy - I Can See Tomorrow From Here

Capri is so beautiful, it should have its own soundtrack - something operatic with a lot of timpani drums. The music should begin as you approach the island, build to a thunderous crescendo while you are there, and then soften to maybe one plaintive violin when you are departing. 

www.capri.net

OK, that's a little overly dramatic. But the way the island juts out of the water and clutches for the sky. The craggy rock cliffs set against the blue sea. Lemons the size of grapefruits hanging from the trees. Beautiful smells to match the jaw-dropping views. Elegant hotels tucked into the sides of the hills. Quaint churches. It's all so elegant.


But I'll tell you one thing that is not elegant on Capri: me when I am there. It's not like I don't try. I pack smart clothes and stroll the streets. I try to look effortless when I am sitting at a restaurant. But I also want to see every inch of this glorious place and I'm on a budget. So I am not being squired around in a motorized cart that was arranged by my chi-chi hotel. I'm hoofing it - up the 924 Phoenician Steps to Anacapri like in my previous post or exploring the side streets and lanes in the town.

www.comunedianacapri.it

Today I'm high on the island in Anacapri. I dodge the tourist-heavy main streets and end up in a pleasantly quiet old part of town. There I stumble into the Chiesa Monumentale di San Michele - a pretty little church with a most extraordinary draw. The floor is made entirely of tiles depicting the biblical story of Adam and Eve. You have to navigate around the perimeter of the church on these thin raised scaffold boards that protect the tiles from tourist traffic. 

Ahead of me is a group of sturdy German men, under whose feet the scaffold boards groan and creak. They tip-toe along trying to lighten their loads, and they have their arms outstretched like they are tight-rope walkers. I'm thinking that the boards are going to give way at any time and we are going to fall onto the delicate tiles in a shower of toothpicks. But we make it. They seem more relieved than I.

Back out in Anacapri, I am thinking about calling it an afternoon when I see this big wheel turning in a roundhouse. I go over to check it out. I discover that it is some sort of chair lift that appears to take a scenic trip further up the mountain. So on a whim, I go in and buy a ticket. 

Before I know it, I pop back outside through a door. This guy grabs my arm and places me over a faded red dot painted on the concrete platform. Before I can process what is happening, a chair bangs into the back of my knees and I fall into it. The chair rocks back, the guy flips a flimsy aluminum bar down over my lap, and I am off, launching off the platform and looking at a huge drop down. 

tripadvisor.com

Now, as a non-skier, I have never been on a chair lift and this one is not sturdy like the Germans back at the church. It appears to be made of flimsy aluminum and looks like it needs some TLC. My chair is attached to the cable above by this thin aluminum bar and my chair lurches each time it crosses one of the metal towers that stretch way down to the ground and support the whole contraption. I can see a lot of rust and I can hear a lot of creaking. Good grief. What have I done. This contraption is going to fall apart. It has been exposed for God knows how long to sun and salty sea air. It looks like it was built during Mussolini's time.

Keith Haring

I picture a haughty Italian coroner signing off on my death certificate with a flourish citing the cause as "Death by Misadventure", next to a photo of my body splatted against the rocks looking like a Keith Haring drawing.

So I freak out and go into a full-on panic attack. I mean this thing does not look state of the art. It looks like some dodgy carnival ride and I am easily 50 feet above the rocky ground heading for the top of a mountain. I clutch the bar but my hands are sweating so badly that they keep slipping off. I get dizzy and think I am going to fall out of this chairway to hell. 

tripadvisor.com

I look up and see that the ride seems to go on forever. That doesn't help. And it is one way - there is no turning back and no stop button. I alternate taking one hand off the bar to wipe off the sweat and replacing it with a death grip by the other. And I begin talking myself through it out loud, quoting positive affirmations that don't really make sense. 

To avoid looking ahead, or God forbid down, I try to focus on the chair ahead of me, but my attention is diverted to the chairs coming down the other side. 

I burst out laughing. What I see looks to be an Asian seniors' tour looking as funny as I no doubt do, dangling in these swing-like chairs. Coming toward me is a smiling, elderly Asian woman, holding an umbrella over her head with one hand to shield the sun and taking pictures with the other hand. Here she is hands-free enjoying the ride and I am clutching the pole of my chair like I am about to fall off the edge of the earth. 

en.wikipedia.com

The Asian seniors inspire me to get a grip and I start to enjoy the ride. It is exhilerating. I am gliding high over people's houses and gardens, including one garden that is festooned with a fully-dressed mannequin and all sorts of shell creations, as well as a bird's nest with fake birds and a fish pond with fake fish in it. Hundreds of hours of work but crazy as all get out. I wonder how many tourists he's had to scoop out of his yard?

When I reach the top, and I mean the top, a guy flips up the bar, dumps me out of the chair, and pushes me off to the right to avoid getting clothes-lined by the chair behind me.


Now I am literally at the top of the island. There is nothing but blue sky above and wind swirling around me. The view takes my breath away. It is panoramic - the Med, the island, the iconic Faraglioni rocks jutting out of the water, the harbor, Mount Vesuvius off on the mainland. I am so high, I can see tomorrow from here.

There are Roman ruins scattered around the mountain top and at the edge of a cliff, I look straight down to a beach far, far below. Yachts that are anchored look like small white dots against the blue sea. Seagulls are gliding in the wind far below me. I feel like I am flying - like I am looking out of an airplane but without the filter of the plane and window.

tripadvisor.com

After many pictures, I head back to the lift. I am placed on another faded red dot, a chair cuts me off at the knees, and I am off, though this time the guy doesn't flip down the bar. I guess he thinks by now I've got it figured out. 

The ride down is actually scarier than the ride up, because you are on top of the world looking down so you have a keen sense of how high up you are (and how far you can fall). But just at the onslaught of another panic attack, I see another group of seniors, this time Americans, ahead of me. They are laughing, turning in their chairs to take pictures of each other, and thoroughly enjoying the experience. So I do too. 

Sometimes you just have to stop over-thinking things, sit back, and enjoy the ride. 

commons.wikimedia.org