Tutt’Appost (Part IV, The Poor Man’s Capri)

 Tutt’Appost (Part IV, The Poor Man’s Capri)

Here in Part IV of Tutt’Appost, as the curtain

Medmar Ferry, Naples to/from Ischia

rises, our cast remains the same – JoAnn, Maria Elena, Lenny, and me.  It is September, and the scene is the main port of Naples as our foursome waits in line while cars and trucks board the Naples ferry destined for Ischia Porto on the Island of Ischia.  Ischia Porto serves as the primary gateway to Ischia, a leisurely destination where visitors can enjoy the island's renowned thermal spas and its Mediterranean atmosphere. 

There was a persistent drizzle to put up with as we waited our turn to board, but it was a small price to pay considering what we’d already endured (see Tutt’Appost, Part III, A Travel Timeline) in our determination to reach the neighboring island of Ischia.  From past experiences, we've learned that sometimes you need to go in the opposite direction to reach your destination, and this felt like one of those moments.  The inconvenience was, indeed, a small price to pay for what lay ahead.

As the mooring lines were removed from the pier’s bollards and we began to move, a soothing sense of satisfaction and relaxation enveloped us.  All we’d endured just getting from Sorrento to this

Welcome to Ischia Porto

port, our hectic rush and hurry inside the terminal, the steep climb to the passenger deck, followed by a scramble for seating, had been an effort of will, and we’d made it.  We managed to sit together and relaxed a fraction as things quickly settled into a routine, evident as the crewmen began a drink and snack service.  By this time, it was late morning, and the sea had calmed considerably from the white-capped sea we’d observed earlier that morning in Sorrento, making for a comfortable transit across the Bay of Naples.

We entered Ischia Porto through a narrow opening, guided

Walking from B&B to the Port

by a red navigation light to our left and a green one to our right.  Just about centered in the port, our ferry performed a pirouette maneuver to position the ship for a gradual reverse approach to the dock.  This lively, year-round port is an almost circular harbor lined with fishing vessels, a flotilla of colorful boats, luxury yachts, Corpo delle Capitanerie di Porto coastguard vessels, and mammoth shuttle craft like the one we arrived on.  Word has spread far and wide about Ischia’s appeal.  Today, the port serves two primary functions: one focused on leisure, the other on commerce, which keeps the island supplied with necessities, and what I suspect locals consider far less essential, throngs of tourists.  The result is a bustling maritime hub blending modern activity with the island's rich history and scenic charm.  

We stayed on the “working” side of the port, where taxis whisked eager arrivals to their destinations, and rental autos and scooters were readily available.  Once the ship had docked, the ramp descended with a metallic clank, signaling a rush of 

Our Second Floor Terrace

vehicles exiting and the arrival of a new throng of eager tourists much like ourselves.  Thankfully, our destination was nearby.  Our accommodation, the B&B Terrace on the Port, was a stone's throw from the water, tucked away on a narrow side street between a convenient market and a ferry ticket office on Via Iasolino.  Only steps away from the busy port, our location offered easy access while filtering the noisy clamor of this active area.

Anna, our gracious host, greeted us following a short walk from the ship and led us to her spacious, beautiful two-bedroom apartment with two bathrooms.  The addition of a cozy living room and fully equipped kitchen made it feel like home.  Though just arrived, we were all 

Our Home Away's Kitchen

of the opinion that we wouldn’t hesitate to stay there again.  Its pictures didn’t do justice to what we were seeing.

Interestingly, this B&B hadn’t been our first choice.  Originally, we had tried to book rooms at the Central Park Hotel, located between the historic Castello Aragonese and downtown.  For months, we had called in vain to reserve two rooms.  Although it was mid-September and school was again in session, Ischia’s enduring charm continued to attract visitors.  We had stayed at Central Park many times in the past and were eager to introduce Lenny and JoAnn to its thermal spa,

Mare and JoAnn in the Pool at
Central Park Hotel

generous buffet breakfasts and large waterfall pool, complete with a convenient bar for refreshing cocktails, set amidst an enchanting Mediterranean garden.

It was after Anna showed us around and explained the details, including keys, passwords, and TV operation, that Maria Elena casually asked her if she would contact Central Park to see if we could use their garden pool.  She agreed to try to make arrangements.  To my surprise, within hours, she returned with the good news that we were welcome to use it.  What I hadn’t known was that her uncle owned the hotel!  As I hugged her, I couldn’t help but think how having friends or family in high places can make all the difference.  Things were moving along just fine, tutt’appost.

Days later, we cashed in our free pass to enjoy the amenities of the Central Park Hotel.  The central bus station was only minutes away from where we were staying, and with an all-day

Central Park's Poolside Watering Hole

bus pass, we arrived on a beautifully warm afternoon, perfect for a dip in the pool.  While we were there, we met the owner, Anna’s Zio, as he sat at the table next to ours near the bar.  At some point in our conversation, I apparently said magic words when I commented on how much the hotel’s setting resembled a tropical garden.  I remarked that hidden within this peaceful garden oasis, you'd never expect to find such a lovely retreat.  He reacted with excitement and related how this was his intent from the start, to create something

Awaiting the City Bus

like Central Park in NYC.

The picturesque port area became our home base.  To one side, nestled behind a small flotilla of private moorings, vibrant waterfront cafes and restaurants offer a delightful mix of authentic Italian cuisine, stunning views, and an occasional novel exchange with the Tyrrhenian Sea.  These eateries range from casual trattorias to upscale dining spots, each offering a unique experience.  Many feature outdoor terraces where guests can enjoy traditional fish and pasta dishes while overlooking the harbor.  The displacement of water from the arrival of large vessels momentarily raises the sea level in the port so much that seawater occasionally overflows onto outside restaurant seating areas.  The extent of these spills, of course, depends on the size of the vessel, with patrons’ reactions ranging from jocular laughter to startled annoyance.  

The picturesque port area became our home base.  To one side, nestled behind a small flotilla of private moorings, vibrant waterfront cafes and restaurants offer a delightful mix of authentic Italian cuisine, stunning views, and an occasional novel exchange with the Tyrrhenian Sea.  These eateries range from casual trattorias to upscale dining spots, each offering a unique experience.  Many feature outdoor terraces where guests can enjoy traditional fish and pasta dishes while overlooking the harbor.  The displacement of water from the arrival of large vessels momentarily raises the sea level in the port so much that seawater occasionally overflows onto outside restaurant seating areas.  The extent

Water Overflows the Pier at Taverna Antonio

of these spills, of course, depends on the size of the vessel, with patrons’ reactions ranging from jocular laughter to startled annoyance.  

As the sun sets, these restaurants spring to life, with both locals and visitors savoring meals al fresco.  The distant glow of Mount Epomeo, the highest mountain on this volcanic island, adds to its magical ambiance.  Practically every evening, we ran a gauntlet of friendly barkers and sandwich board announcements in front of these portside restaurants, urging us to take a seat.  This charming culinary experience was complemented by the aroma of freshly baked pizza, pasta, grilled fish, and local specialties like coniglio

Ischia Porto Restaurant Row with
Taverna Antonio in the Center

all'ischitana (Ischia-style rabbit).  Interestingly, the wild rabbit population has long been depleted.  Today, rabbits are imported to keep the tradition alive.  I can attest to this fact with authority because we once arrived on a ferry crammed with rabbit cages.  Steeped in the island's traditions and Mediterranean flavors, it would have been wonderful to sample them all, but there were more to choose from than the number of dinners remaining over our stay.  We worked up an appetite the next day while walking around the city.  For lunch, we didn’t hesitate to select Taverna Antonio, while true to form, water licked our feet as it overflowed from the port beside us.  

Antonio and Luciana Cervera are third-generation members of the family-owned and operated Taverna Antonio, a first of its kind on the island.  Established in 1950 by their father, Don Antonio Cervera, an early pioneer of tourism in Ischia, the Taverna began as a humble cellar transformed into a gathering spot for the island's first visitors and artists.  Today, Antonio and Luciana continue to manage the taverna, warmly welcoming guests like us to the island.  True to their Italian roots, their foremost concern is

Welcome to Taverna Antonio

always your hunger, driven by an instinctive desire to feed you.

Nestled on Via Porto, along the restaurant-lined eastern side of the port, this place is not just where they grew up but has become a cherished destination for anyone returning to relive the comforting taste and aroma of home.  Every day, they lovingly follow the recipes of their mother, Tina, crafting dishes with the finest ingredients, predominantly organic.  After several visits to the Taverna, it quickly became our "go-to spot."  The Taverna captivates not only with its exceptional food, honesty, and inviting atmosphere but also with the warmth of its hosts, particularly Antonio, whose genuine desire to connect and engage in enlightening conversation makes it a true home away from home.  For all these reasons, we decided to stay close to the Taverna for the rest of our stay.  There was another reason as well.  Early on during our stay, one restaurant in another part of town messed up our bill by charging us in US dollars instead of Euros without asking.  Luckily, Lenny caught it, and we avoided paying additional fees. 

                                  Momma's Recipes at Taverna Antonio

Early one morning, we took an EAV Autolinee bus to Sant’Angelo, a picturesque town located on the coast on the opposite side of the island.  From the start, the bus was full, and we had to stand, but

Len Holds On In A Filled Bus

not for long.  Shortly after our departure, the bus broke down.  This was something new as everyone stood by the side of the road waiting for a replacement bus.  When it arrived, we scurried aboard and were able to sit for the remainder of the journey as others got on and off at various stops.  Our route, as they put it, was “anti-clockwise,” first from Ischia Porto, passing through Casamiccicola, then on to Lacco Ameno, Forio, and Panza before reaching Sant'Angelo.

Sant’Angelo has changed since our last visit.  With the introduction of more businesses over the years, it has begun to develop a commercial air.  One thing that hadn’t changed was where the bus dropped us off.  Because of the steep descent into the town and the difficulty of turning around once there, the bus stop remained located at the top of a ridge above the town.  The 

View Walking Down To Sant'Angelo

walk down, however, offers a spectacular view of the coastline, including Sant’Angelo itself, known for its natural hot springs, and Spiaggia di Sant’Angelo, a beautiful small, pebbly beach.  With its charming streets, vibrant local culture, and stunning natural landscapes, Sant’Angelo offers a peaceful escape from the more touristy areas of Ischia, inviting visitors to slow down and savor the moment.  It remains a rather small, authentic Italian coastal village, far removed from the hurried pace of more crowded tourist spots on Ischia making it a favorite for visitors and locals alike seeking to bath themselves in the rhythm of Mediterranean life and natural beauty.  

Both Maria Elena and JoAnn looked forward to shopping.  Meanwhile, Lenny and I patiently looked forward to lunch somewhere inviting for its cozy appeal by the shore.  In the meantime, we

Inside La Conchiglia (The Shell) Ristorante

entertained ourselves poking around ceramic and art shops when not people-watching.  When time for lunch arrived, we chose La Conchiglia (the Shell), a restaurant overlooking the sea where the waves, likely remnants of the storm that had threatened our arrival, crashed upon a sheltering stone breakwater.  The Shell’s cuisine is typical of Ischia, focusing on fresh, local ingredients, seafood, and traditional Mediterranean dishes.  Fish and shellfish are staples, often served simply grilled or as part of a rich pasta dish.  Well-sated, we returned to the bus stop aboard an Ape-style vehicle, realizing that our visit had more than lived up to its promise.

As the time of our departure from the island drew near, a situation similar to what had occurred in Sorrento unfolded as we learned of another approaching storm.  I was beginning to form the

A Pranzo (Lunch) Smorgasbord at La Conchiglia

impression that life on or by the sea is a fickle affair.  I could only imagine what it was like years ago when weather forecasting was nonexistent.  Once again, we faced the prospect of temporary homelessness, though I realized that the arrival of our replacements at the B&B would be equally unlikely.  Thankfully, as close to the port and ticket offices as we were, we would be sure to hear the latest news.  We packed our belongings the night before in case we needed to make a hasty departure in the morning.  At 5 AM, when the ticket offices opened, I planned to be there to gauge the situation.

Not long after I woke and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I was surprised.  Oh, the alarm worked fine, but I had also expected to be greeted by the howl of a storm.  Instead, it was deathly quiet as I stealthily left the apartment, crossed the terrace, bound down the stairs, and  

Something Tutt'Appost About Italy ... the Food Never Stops

quickly navigated the alley to the port.  There had definitely been a storm, but it had passed, leaving only a residue of puddles and toppled chairs behind.  Surprisingly, I’d slept through it.  When I reached the ticket office, I found it was still closed, which I interpreted as a bad sign.  There was, however, a large ferry moored where we had arrived.  It was brightly lit, with the maw of its ramp down, ready to ingest a caravan of pedestrians and vehicles.  I took this as a good sign.

With my options limited, I went to the ship to learn what I could about the situation.  Had it just arrived, or had it been stranded the night before?  Was it preparing to leave?  As I approached, I could just make out the silhouette of a man dressed all in white holding what I interpreted from the presence of a rubbery antenna, some sort of radio.  He wasn’t a mirage but the captain!  In pleasing to hear English, he explained he would depart at 6 AM and this was the only ship for the day.  I thanked him for the information, about faced, and in my best Paul Revere fashion, made for the B&B to raise the alarm.

We were headed for the ship within minutes of my arrival.  While I got the tickets, Maria Elena, JoAnn, and Len clicked and clacked their suitcases across the cobblestone wharf toward the awaiting ferry.  I was lucky to get in line while it was still short, positioning me about fifth or sixth in the queue.  By the time I departed, the line had grown considerably, extending right out the door.  Clearly, word had spread.  Returned to the ship, I passed out the tickets, dropped off our luggage in a storage room, and climbed the near vertical staircase to the passenger hall.  Just over an hour long, it had already been a busy, tiring day for me as I contentedly flopped into a seat for our return to Naples.  I was confident all was tutt’appost (just fine) but that was but a fleeting sensation. 

As the engines started, my confidence grew that we would be able to depart the island that only days earlier we had struggled to reach.  I was sure of it as the anchor was raised and we began to move.  But once we left the calmness of the port and entered the rolling sea, my confidence waned.  Our ship, recall, was large, but I couldn't help but wonder if the captain I’d met earlier might be entertaining second thoughts and consider returning to the safety of port.  The evidence was plain as day obvious.

You’d need to imagine the scene—on both the port and starboard sides of the passenger area, large windows had long since replaced tiny portholes.  From our seats, I could monitor the rolling sway of the ship by looking through them.  Dawn had arrived but not by much, casting a pale light across the sky at the top of each window.  Below, the gray image of the sea stretched out to the horizon, sharing the view with the sky.  With each roll of the ship, the amount of sky and sea visible through the windows changed.  In some cases, the scene to one side was totally of the sea, while in the opposite windows, at the same time, the view was all sky.

Not having served in the Navy, I can’t speak from direct experience, but I would expect this ‘thermometer effect’ to involve gradual ups and downs.  To the contrary, the fluctuating roll we experienced was far more intense.  In the large aircraft I flew, a bank of more than 30 degrees was termed “an unusual attitude.”  I’ve no idea how “unusual” this much roll was and didn’t want to know how much our ship could withstand, but from my perspective, it was abnormal, although I admit some of my unease lay in the fact that I was not in control. 

Nevertheless, this severe rocking, testing the limits of our buoyancy, lasted for what felt like an eternity.  For three-quarters of the journey, the sea remained rough, and I mean that in the politest possible sense.  Then, ever so gradually, as if sensing our approach to Naples, the wind quieted, and in reply, the sea’s energy began to abate, calming as we drew near.  This couldn’t have been timelier, for as we maneuvered into a narrow unloading pier, the sea still charged three attempts before we finally succeeded in docking and could disembark.  Arriving once more to the comforting stability of terra firma, I looked skyward and muttered a prayer of thanks for surviving the journey and that I’d never served in the Navy! 

We returned from Ischia, often referred to as “The Poor Man’s Capri,” with new memories and older ones renewed.  We made it back to Casa Calitri hours later, dropped our bags at our feet immediately after entering, and headed for much-deserved and long-anticipated naps.  It had been eight days since we’d departed, which had included our stays in Sorrento and Ischia.  I can’t speak for the others, but as I finally lay my head down to rest, one last time following this extended period, I thought all was well, tutt’appost. 

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo