Dear friends,

know that I am well (after my last post you must be so concerned) as I write to you from paradise. A reprieve, if you may, from normality here on the island of Capri in southern Italy.

It is breathtaking and above expectations at every turn. For over 1000 years we have searched for Camelot, a magical place that each night seems to become more beautiful and where there isn’t even a leaf out of place, look no further for I have discovered it.

While one likes to think of any discovery as a first, especially this one, it is plainly clear that is not the case. Mega-yachts float off the coast, having seemingly grown on trees, and remind me of a childhood game of Battleships, except in this case it is using my AIS app to find out everything I can about them…a yacht owner bodyguard in the room next door was very helpful although I think in the end he may have been put there to keep an eye on me!

Restaurants are warming, inviting and friendly with such pride as I have barely seen; the water fresh, delightful and clear all the way to the smooth rocks below; and even the old buses ooze a charm and sense of delight.

There is the old town, Anacapri, on the highest point and where time slows even more, there are dreamy sunsets and lighthouses surround by swimming holes that are full of cool kids. It was here a traditional ritual was taking place and I thought it might be a sacrifice or suicide pact…turns out it was a wedding – close.

It seems locals define themselves by showing their belly button on their oversized girth that no shirt could hide; made me think perhaps this really is where people come to wither like gods…expanding and happy. I was no god, but definitely fat and happy, although my belly button was safely out of site due to the stairs that are part of every moment of Amalfi and Capri.

Marina Piccolo, where the hotel was, is the place to be and after eating all my pizza crusts to get curly hair, which had no effect I might add, did I reach “peak pizza”. A terrible occurrence and one I battled through as best as one can. Although my swap to a pasta was seemingly perplexing to one American who asked how my risotto was…ah honeymooning Americans, how wonderfully annoying they can be.

Marina Grande is best avoided as a pizza topped with French fries is enough warning that this is a tourist plague. Not far, however, from it is a stunning place for lunch and a swim that only the boat to the left of the ferry ticket office can take you to…worth the journey…as is the Blue Grotto.

After four nights it was time to leave and I felt like I had to go to Church in Naples it was so sinful…instead for my gluttonous sins I walked up Mount Vesuvius and visited Pompeii on a 35’ day.

The Caprieve was over, but nothing would be the same as I had walked amongst the gods.