deadtree
I was originally going to title this post something exotic like "Dalle isole alla terra", but after an unfortunate course of events yesterday I felt inspired to change it. 'Deadtree' is Let's Go jargon for a researcher without his or her laptop, which is exactly what I am from this point on. Yesterday afternoon, my not-so-trusty borrowed computer decided that it had had enough of the Italian heat, and with a bang (literally--there were sparks!) it ended its life (don't shed TOO many tears... the sticker on the bottom assuring me of its Y2K compliance leads me to believe that it led a fairly long life). What this means, however, is that rather than using the luxury of a word processor, I now get to spend my nights cutting up photocopies of last year's guide and gluesticking them to sheets of paper, complete with editing marks and new prose. Instead of mailing a sleek little floppy disk every week, I now get to send in envelopes containing dozens--maybe hundreds--of these pasted sheets. Such is deadtree. There is a small, lesser-known circle of hell in which travel-guide writers do nothing but write listings in deadtree. But I am lucky that my computer failure happened so close to the end of my route... it could have been much worse. Besides (warning: this sentence has what we like to call extreme rationalization), there is something very real and romantic about writing up my travels in pen and paper-- there is a very alluring old world charm to it :)
(more after the jump)
One more quick computer note before I jump into the actual post: I have been saving everyone's emails to a disk and then writing responses on my laptop (to cut down on internet cafe costs), and I wrote a whole slew of emails yesterday and was all set to send them off today, only to lose them along with everything else. So if you wrote me and have yet to receive a response, that's the reason. I'm going to try to catch up on emails in the next few days.. I'm really sorry to be so slow at responding to you!
Ignoring my computer woes, the past couple of weeks have been absolutely amazing. I spent a week exploring a seven island archipelago called the Aeolian Islands, after which I took a boat to the mainland, where I have since been exploring the region of Calabria (the 'toe' of Italy's boot shape). The Aeolians were stunning, although after six weeks, 12 islands (13 if you count Sicily), and over two dozen boat rides, it feels pretty nice to be back on solid ground again.
But the Aeolian Islands-- wow, what a week! Not only were they all gorgeous, but each had a very unique personality, distinct from the other six. This means that while I certainly preferred some of them to others, the variety made it quite enjoyable to visit them all.
The island of Lipari was my base of operations. I rented a room here for most of the week, and made day trips to most of the other islands. Lipari is the most developed of the seven islands, and with its overpriced restaurants and seaside cafes, it was much more touristy than the others as well. Although it was a bit too busy for my tastes, Lipari was still very beautiful, with the striking cliffs and turquoise waters that the archipelago is famous for.
My first day trip was to another island that wasn't among my favorites-- Vulcano. An island whose pungent sulfur smell is noticeable long before you get off the boat, Vulcano is best known for its unusual mudbaths. A large natural pool of yellowish-gray goop carved into the mountainside, the mudbaths are both stinky AND radioactive. Despite this (or perhaps because of it?), loads of tourists pay to cover themselves from head to toe in the muck. I opted not to join in-- in addition to my general desire to stay away from anything radioactive, I was also turned off by the signs warning you that the mud is known to eat holes in bathing suits, not to mention the fact that it soaks them with that oh-so-pleasant sulfuric odor (I'm not kidding here.... they actually sell disposable swimwear on this island for 5 euro apiece!).
My next trip was to the two most remote islands in the archipelago: the distant Filicudi and Alicudi. In my last post I raved about the beauty of the isolation in Pantelleria-- these two islands take that idea and expand on it. With a combined population of only 400 people, they aren't the place to go for loud discos or chic shops, or even ATMs. They just got electricity ten years ago. This is the real deal... few tourists, understated lodgings, and loads of untouched natural beauty. This was especially prominent in the tiny Alicudi (population 100, and they all live at the port). I had a few hours to kill in Alicudi--it only has one tiny hotel and two restaurants, so there's not much to research--and I walked along the rocky shores around the island. As I got a bit farther from the town, the number of sunbathers became more and more sparse-- as did their clothing. By the time I was 1km out of town, topless had become bottomless, and virtually everyone was nude. I hope this isn't too much information for anyone, but having a bit of time to kill, I thought "what the hell? when in rome...." and decided to follow suit and sunbathe au naturel for a bit. The experience was very relaxing-- Europeans are much less preoccupied with nudity than Americans are. To them it is something much more natural, rather than the sexual taboo that we view it as in America. It wasn't any sort of a nude beach per se-- just an isolated stretch of beach on an isolated island, which to many Europeans means there is no need for a bathing suit.
After I returned from my trip to Filicudi and Alicudi, I next went to the island of Salina. I was especially excited to see this island because one of my favorite Italian films, Il Postino, was filmed and took place here. As the boat pulled in, I kept having visions of Massimo Troisi's character biking up and down the hillsides, and once I even thought I saw Pablo Neruda's house up on the hill, although I later found out that the house from the movie was on another part of the island. Salina is quite large, but mostly undeveloped. Its economy relies more on agriculture than tourism, and is known for its food-- the capers are supposed to be the best in Italy, and the island's grapes are made into a wonderful dessert wine called Malvasia.
And it was on Salina that I had the culinary highlight of my trip. My editor (who researched my route for last year's guide) told me about a restaurant on this island that is absolutely amazing-- it has been featured in Bon Appetit, and the cook is known worldwide. Normally I am totally incognito when reviewing food, so that the meal I review is the same food that our readers would receive, but my editor told me that the food at this restaurant is so amazing that there is no way I would write anything but glowing words about it, so I might as well tell him upfront that I write for Let's Go-- that way I can get the meal for free. I am so glad I took her advice-- I was treated to the largest, richest meal of my life. I literally ate until I couldn't have another bite. The chef chose my meal, and he treated me to three amazing antipasti (appitizers), a wonderfully spicy pasta dish, and two fresh fish entrees that were absolutely divine. Most of the ingredients in the food come straight from his garden, and nothing comes from off the island. The wines are made from grapes in his backyard, the capers grow wild near the entrance to the restaurant, the fish were all caught from Salina fishing boats. And to top it all off, the view was spectacular: I was able to watch the moon rise over the neighboring islands, adding the perfect touch to an already perfect meal.
After Salina, my next trip was to the chic island of Panarea. Easily the most picture-perfect of the Aeolians, Panarea is the playground for wealthy Italians. A constant stream of white linen and Louis Vuitton luggage, Panarea wasn't exactly my type of island, although I could certainly appreciate the stunning views from the hotels I visited, and I might have thought about spending the night if most rooms didn't come with a 400 euro a night price tag.
The final island I visited was the complete opposite of Panarea, and was definitely my favorite. Equally rugged and energetic, the island of Stromboli is known mainly for one thing-- the entire island is an active volcano. Of course, I did what any moderately reckless 20-year-old male would do-- I climbed the volcano! Granted, I'm not totally crazy, so I went with a guided group, and unfortunately the top part of the hike (near the crater) was closed a year ago after a particularly nasty eruption. Still, I got to go most of the way up, and it was absolutely amazing. The groups leave in the evening, arriving just before sunset. The volcano has minor eruptions every 20 minutes or so, and while you can't see them during the day, they are spectacularly vivid at night-- I can't wait to show everyone the pictures I took! And, to top it all off, I did this hike on the night of July 4th, so while I was probably the only American on the 300-person island, I still got to have my own form of fireworks that night.
After Stromboli, I went to the Sicilian port town of Messina, and then the next morning took the boat to the mainland. It was hard to say goodbye to Sicily-- I spent a month and a half exploring every little area of the island, and had become so used to it as my setting. Sicily is only one of Italy's 18 regions, and yet there were so many treasures packed into it. I can't wait to explore the rest of the country as I move on....
When I got on to the mainland, I spent 4 nights in Reggio di Calabria, a decently large city just across the straits from Sicily. The area along the water was gorgeous-- you could see the Sicilian mountains on the other side, so it almost felt like you were on the shore of a large lake. Reggio has seen some beautiful redevelopment efforts in recent years, and the area near the water was the perfect place for a "passegiata" (evening stroll).
One of my day trips from Reggio was to a town called Scilla, which is right on the Straits of Messina (the point at which Sicily is closest to Italy... as close as 2km at some parts). For those of you who remember the Odyssey, this strait is where Odysseus and crew avoided the whirlpool Charbydis only to encounter the monster Scylla, from which the town gets his name. While scholars still have plenty of debate about whether Homer was setting his story in real settings or imaginary, the general consensus is that this section was based on the Straits of Messina. Much of the book likely took place in the area around Sicily and Tunisia, and many of the sections are thought to be set in areas I have visited. Odysseus' meeting with Aeolus, god of the winds, is thought to have been set on the Aeolian island of Vulcano, and the encounter with the cyclops is probably set somewhere in Sicily, either in the Western parts, or else near Mt. Etna. If you have never read the Odyssey, all of what I said probably means very little to you. But if you're anything like me, the idea of seeing the areas where these stories were set is just too cool for words. Yeah, I'm kind of a nerd, we all know that :)
Finally, after Reggio (wow, I've been to a lot of places since my last post!), I went to the town of Tropea, which is perched atop a high set of cliffs overlooking the Tyhrennian Sea. The beach is beautiful, accessible only by a stone staircase descending from the town, although even more impressive is the view from the town, where you can stand at the top and look out to see the waves crashing into the shore, 100m below you.
Well that's about it for the past couple of weeks. Right now I'm in the inland town of Cosenza, where I am becoming more familiar with the computer repair shops than with the sights. Tomorrow I head off to Camigliatello/Sila, which is supposed to be one of the premier ski areas in Southern Italy (a region that, granted, is not especially renowned for its ski areas). It should be cool, although I know it won't come close to the stuff in Utah.
Sorry that this post is so scattered... I'm afraid that composing the entire thing at an internet cafe doesn't allow for quite as much polishing as writing it on my laptop in my hotel room did. Still, despite all my whining about having to do deadtree, I usually try to have a positive outlook about these kind of things, so I'll just be glad that it gives me an extra degree of adventure. Next week I will be going to the region of Basilicata, a poor, relatively undeveloped area that is now most famous for being where Mel Gibson filmed "The Passion of the Christ". I suppose that the old pen-and-paper will probably feel fitting when I am staying in renovated 7000-year-old cliff dwellings (I'm not exaggerating... the area has been settled for that long).
I miss everyone a lot, and will try to catch up soon on responding to emails (damn computer...). Also, for those of you who are interested, I've started calling friends from home more than ever (it costs about 3 cents a minute-- cheaper than internet!), so if you want a phone call just send me your number and I'll try to call you some time. If not, I'll be back in August, so I'll see everyone then.
(more after the jump)
One more quick computer note before I jump into the actual post: I have been saving everyone's emails to a disk and then writing responses on my laptop (to cut down on internet cafe costs), and I wrote a whole slew of emails yesterday and was all set to send them off today, only to lose them along with everything else. So if you wrote me and have yet to receive a response, that's the reason. I'm going to try to catch up on emails in the next few days.. I'm really sorry to be so slow at responding to you!
Ignoring my computer woes, the past couple of weeks have been absolutely amazing. I spent a week exploring a seven island archipelago called the Aeolian Islands, after which I took a boat to the mainland, where I have since been exploring the region of Calabria (the 'toe' of Italy's boot shape). The Aeolians were stunning, although after six weeks, 12 islands (13 if you count Sicily), and over two dozen boat rides, it feels pretty nice to be back on solid ground again.
But the Aeolian Islands-- wow, what a week! Not only were they all gorgeous, but each had a very unique personality, distinct from the other six. This means that while I certainly preferred some of them to others, the variety made it quite enjoyable to visit them all.
The island of Lipari was my base of operations. I rented a room here for most of the week, and made day trips to most of the other islands. Lipari is the most developed of the seven islands, and with its overpriced restaurants and seaside cafes, it was much more touristy than the others as well. Although it was a bit too busy for my tastes, Lipari was still very beautiful, with the striking cliffs and turquoise waters that the archipelago is famous for.
My first day trip was to another island that wasn't among my favorites-- Vulcano. An island whose pungent sulfur smell is noticeable long before you get off the boat, Vulcano is best known for its unusual mudbaths. A large natural pool of yellowish-gray goop carved into the mountainside, the mudbaths are both stinky AND radioactive. Despite this (or perhaps because of it?), loads of tourists pay to cover themselves from head to toe in the muck. I opted not to join in-- in addition to my general desire to stay away from anything radioactive, I was also turned off by the signs warning you that the mud is known to eat holes in bathing suits, not to mention the fact that it soaks them with that oh-so-pleasant sulfuric odor (I'm not kidding here.... they actually sell disposable swimwear on this island for 5 euro apiece!).
My next trip was to the two most remote islands in the archipelago: the distant Filicudi and Alicudi. In my last post I raved about the beauty of the isolation in Pantelleria-- these two islands take that idea and expand on it. With a combined population of only 400 people, they aren't the place to go for loud discos or chic shops, or even ATMs. They just got electricity ten years ago. This is the real deal... few tourists, understated lodgings, and loads of untouched natural beauty. This was especially prominent in the tiny Alicudi (population 100, and they all live at the port). I had a few hours to kill in Alicudi--it only has one tiny hotel and two restaurants, so there's not much to research--and I walked along the rocky shores around the island. As I got a bit farther from the town, the number of sunbathers became more and more sparse-- as did their clothing. By the time I was 1km out of town, topless had become bottomless, and virtually everyone was nude. I hope this isn't too much information for anyone, but having a bit of time to kill, I thought "what the hell? when in rome...." and decided to follow suit and sunbathe au naturel for a bit. The experience was very relaxing-- Europeans are much less preoccupied with nudity than Americans are. To them it is something much more natural, rather than the sexual taboo that we view it as in America. It wasn't any sort of a nude beach per se-- just an isolated stretch of beach on an isolated island, which to many Europeans means there is no need for a bathing suit.
After I returned from my trip to Filicudi and Alicudi, I next went to the island of Salina. I was especially excited to see this island because one of my favorite Italian films, Il Postino, was filmed and took place here. As the boat pulled in, I kept having visions of Massimo Troisi's character biking up and down the hillsides, and once I even thought I saw Pablo Neruda's house up on the hill, although I later found out that the house from the movie was on another part of the island. Salina is quite large, but mostly undeveloped. Its economy relies more on agriculture than tourism, and is known for its food-- the capers are supposed to be the best in Italy, and the island's grapes are made into a wonderful dessert wine called Malvasia.
And it was on Salina that I had the culinary highlight of my trip. My editor (who researched my route for last year's guide) told me about a restaurant on this island that is absolutely amazing-- it has been featured in Bon Appetit, and the cook is known worldwide. Normally I am totally incognito when reviewing food, so that the meal I review is the same food that our readers would receive, but my editor told me that the food at this restaurant is so amazing that there is no way I would write anything but glowing words about it, so I might as well tell him upfront that I write for Let's Go-- that way I can get the meal for free. I am so glad I took her advice-- I was treated to the largest, richest meal of my life. I literally ate until I couldn't have another bite. The chef chose my meal, and he treated me to three amazing antipasti (appitizers), a wonderfully spicy pasta dish, and two fresh fish entrees that were absolutely divine. Most of the ingredients in the food come straight from his garden, and nothing comes from off the island. The wines are made from grapes in his backyard, the capers grow wild near the entrance to the restaurant, the fish were all caught from Salina fishing boats. And to top it all off, the view was spectacular: I was able to watch the moon rise over the neighboring islands, adding the perfect touch to an already perfect meal.
After Salina, my next trip was to the chic island of Panarea. Easily the most picture-perfect of the Aeolians, Panarea is the playground for wealthy Italians. A constant stream of white linen and Louis Vuitton luggage, Panarea wasn't exactly my type of island, although I could certainly appreciate the stunning views from the hotels I visited, and I might have thought about spending the night if most rooms didn't come with a 400 euro a night price tag.
The final island I visited was the complete opposite of Panarea, and was definitely my favorite. Equally rugged and energetic, the island of Stromboli is known mainly for one thing-- the entire island is an active volcano. Of course, I did what any moderately reckless 20-year-old male would do-- I climbed the volcano! Granted, I'm not totally crazy, so I went with a guided group, and unfortunately the top part of the hike (near the crater) was closed a year ago after a particularly nasty eruption. Still, I got to go most of the way up, and it was absolutely amazing. The groups leave in the evening, arriving just before sunset. The volcano has minor eruptions every 20 minutes or so, and while you can't see them during the day, they are spectacularly vivid at night-- I can't wait to show everyone the pictures I took! And, to top it all off, I did this hike on the night of July 4th, so while I was probably the only American on the 300-person island, I still got to have my own form of fireworks that night.
After Stromboli, I went to the Sicilian port town of Messina, and then the next morning took the boat to the mainland. It was hard to say goodbye to Sicily-- I spent a month and a half exploring every little area of the island, and had become so used to it as my setting. Sicily is only one of Italy's 18 regions, and yet there were so many treasures packed into it. I can't wait to explore the rest of the country as I move on....
When I got on to the mainland, I spent 4 nights in Reggio di Calabria, a decently large city just across the straits from Sicily. The area along the water was gorgeous-- you could see the Sicilian mountains on the other side, so it almost felt like you were on the shore of a large lake. Reggio has seen some beautiful redevelopment efforts in recent years, and the area near the water was the perfect place for a "passegiata" (evening stroll).
One of my day trips from Reggio was to a town called Scilla, which is right on the Straits of Messina (the point at which Sicily is closest to Italy... as close as 2km at some parts). For those of you who remember the Odyssey, this strait is where Odysseus and crew avoided the whirlpool Charbydis only to encounter the monster Scylla, from which the town gets his name. While scholars still have plenty of debate about whether Homer was setting his story in real settings or imaginary, the general consensus is that this section was based on the Straits of Messina. Much of the book likely took place in the area around Sicily and Tunisia, and many of the sections are thought to be set in areas I have visited. Odysseus' meeting with Aeolus, god of the winds, is thought to have been set on the Aeolian island of Vulcano, and the encounter with the cyclops is probably set somewhere in Sicily, either in the Western parts, or else near Mt. Etna. If you have never read the Odyssey, all of what I said probably means very little to you. But if you're anything like me, the idea of seeing the areas where these stories were set is just too cool for words. Yeah, I'm kind of a nerd, we all know that :)
Finally, after Reggio (wow, I've been to a lot of places since my last post!), I went to the town of Tropea, which is perched atop a high set of cliffs overlooking the Tyhrennian Sea. The beach is beautiful, accessible only by a stone staircase descending from the town, although even more impressive is the view from the town, where you can stand at the top and look out to see the waves crashing into the shore, 100m below you.
Well that's about it for the past couple of weeks. Right now I'm in the inland town of Cosenza, where I am becoming more familiar with the computer repair shops than with the sights. Tomorrow I head off to Camigliatello/Sila, which is supposed to be one of the premier ski areas in Southern Italy (a region that, granted, is not especially renowned for its ski areas). It should be cool, although I know it won't come close to the stuff in Utah.
Sorry that this post is so scattered... I'm afraid that composing the entire thing at an internet cafe doesn't allow for quite as much polishing as writing it on my laptop in my hotel room did. Still, despite all my whining about having to do deadtree, I usually try to have a positive outlook about these kind of things, so I'll just be glad that it gives me an extra degree of adventure. Next week I will be going to the region of Basilicata, a poor, relatively undeveloped area that is now most famous for being where Mel Gibson filmed "The Passion of the Christ". I suppose that the old pen-and-paper will probably feel fitting when I am staying in renovated 7000-year-old cliff dwellings (I'm not exaggerating... the area has been settled for that long).
I miss everyone a lot, and will try to catch up soon on responding to emails (damn computer...). Also, for those of you who are interested, I've started calling friends from home more than ever (it costs about 3 cents a minute-- cheaper than internet!), so if you want a phone call just send me your number and I'll try to call you some time. If not, I'll be back in August, so I'll see everyone then.
posted by Andrew S. at
2:58 PM
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