ITALIA - Poem

ITALIA

We're less than 200 miles from Rome
You'd expect a tourist zone
But we anchor at Cape Palinuro
And end up being alone.

A family swims out from the shore
And comes aboard for a chat
It's one of the pleasures of yachting
To have unscheduled visits like that.

When we anchor at Oligastro
It's Sunday. The church bell rings
The square outside the church is packed
The congregation sings.

Amalfi and Positano: such names!
As exotic as names can be
Yet we're sitting not 200 yards offshore
Having just wandered in by sea.

At Amalfi have warm fish salad for lunch
With a golden glass of white wine
See St Andrews Duomo, sketch the wedding cakes
Go to San Guiseppe's to dine.

From Positano it's only 4 miles
To Il Pirate by sea
Take the tender there and dine on the rock
And come home carefully.

When you're feeling a bit energetic next day
Walk the staircase built from stone
To the top of the hill to Nocelle
It will show if your legs were in tone.

There's still no wind and it's calm at night
So we anchor on the east of Capris
20 metres away from the sheer rocky cliff
In a baby blue-turquoise sea.

"You have to visit Capris at least once"
That's what the pilot book states
We think we could come back here again
Though there's work to be done on dates.

We anchor just off Marina Grande
We find Christie's bathing suit rack
We eat memorably at Villa Brunella
We walk the 4 forts track.

The marina at Chiaiolella
Is a safe place to leave the boat
The cafes are spoiled by scooter noise and fumes
But the run to Vivari is not.

We rattle by bus to Procida town
We do the tour of Pompeii
We enjoy a long walk through Naples
As well as the pizza café.

We anchor next day at Ischia, on a
Special anniversary day
We dine and dance on Impulsive
Six chef's hats, at least, I would say.

We tour Ischia by scooter
And discover St Angelo
So we come here and anchor. In the morning light
The pinks and ochres glow.

At Ventotene the Romans carved
The harbour from the rocks
Then the lighthouse was built and to finish the scene
There are pastel building blocks.

At Ponza Island we anchor again
Near a wind-carved limestone bay
It's calm and private and also avoids
The fees they want yachties to pay.

There are pastel coloured buildings again
The sea's as clear as you could wish
I have hundreds of helpers to clean the hull
In the form of colourful fish.

We are on our last leg; we have 60 miles
To finish the voyage to Rome
We think Italia is wonderful
But we're also thinking of home.

September 2008