Straight out of a Movie

One of the cool things about living here is getting to see firsthand things we've previously seen only in books or movies. Last Saturday, during a boating excursion to the island of Ischia, we took advantage of one such opportunity!

A few days before, we had enjoyed Il Postino, our first non- man-movie in quite a while. And, as promised in my previous post, there were both tears and subtitles. The saddest part was finding out that the charming lead actor, who had put off heart surgery for the sake of his work, died the day after filming was completed.



I was immediately taken with the film's Southern Italian seascapes and rough Neapolitan accents--these are things that have become so familiar. Add to those romance and poetry, and we had ourselves a winner: I ranked it among my top ten favorite movies; Alan gave it an impressive 4/5 stars...which, by the way, is more than he gave Commando! (In all seriousness, there's absolutely no comparison). It's the story of a simple postman who delivers oodles of admiring letters to exiled Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. (Neruda's work had already swept me off my feet years ago in Spanish class at UNC). An unlikely friendship ensues as the inquisitive postino learns lessons on love and figurative speech from his wildly popular and talented mentor.

I would recommend this movie to anyone and everyone: hopeless romantics, fans of poetry, nature-lovers, anyone in the mood for a beautiful story. Do yourself a favor and rent it ASAP...you'll never feel so high on life as when you watch Mario stammer his admiration for the barkeeper's daughter. Except maybe if you come to Italy and check out the scenery yourself!

As we enjoyed mimosas aboard our rented motorboat last Saturday--"this is the life" was uttered several times--we were pleasantly surprised when our friend pointed out one of the Il Postino beaches. Part of the movie was filmed on these Procida shores:



The girls enjoyed lounging and sunning as the boys took turns driving the boat. We made a few pit stops on the way to cool off with a quick dip and to "use the facilities." (My family, who is well acquainted with my unwillingness to swim in the ocean--it stems from countless jellyfish attacks during my youth--would thank my small bladder for helping me shed some of my phobia!) Our last stop before lunch was an adventure in hot springs: Ischia is famous for its volcanic soil and thermal activity, which purportedly have medicinal properties.

I wish someone had warned me of the risks associated with this place! Once we neared the shore it became clear the way to the thermal pools was paved with craggy rocks. Unfortunately, the jagged edges were interspersed with smooth, algae-covered stones. Between being tossed by the current and slipping on slick seaweed, we crashed into our share of sharp rocks. Cuts and bruises abounded...

The small hot spring was crowded with muddy-faced Italians, but the temperature was quite pleasant. None of us really wanted to face the same obstacle course back to the boat, but we had no choice...or did we? I was the only one brave enough to try an alternate route: backtrack even further to the shore, then dive into deeper, rockless waters. I almost suffered a serious burn on the stones between the spring and the shore, and when I finally got back into the water I collided with a boatful of teenagers. (They made no effort to steer away as I bopped my head on their litte raft, but found it in their heart to warn me: "Attenzione!" How sweet...).

By this time we were ready to forget our bleeding and our stinging, so we headed to a seaside restaurant nearby.

"Parking" and shuttle service:


A very casual, waterfront, tiki hut of a restaurant:


Trio of antipasti: fried anchovies, cold seafood salad, bruschetta (note the peach wine in the background!)


Afterwards we filled up on our perennial favorite, pasta con vongole (clams). A few of us took advantage of the nearby lounge chairs and mattresses to partake in riposo. One last afternoon dip in the water, and it was off to return the boat!

Despite the cuts and bruises and oddly shaped sunburns we suffered, it was a spectacular day on the water. This was definitely one of those days that lived up to the romantic stereotype of Italy!

I have so many other adventures to record here, but before I do, enjoy the dreamy simplicity of Pablo Neruda's verses:


Your Laughter / Tu risa

Take bread away from me, if you wish, / Quítame el pan, si quieres,
take air away, but / quítame el aire, pero
do not take from me your laughter. / no me quites tu risa.

Do not take away the rose, / No me quites la rosa,
the lance flower that you pluck, / la lanza que desgranas,
the water that suddenly / el agua que de pronto
bursts forth in joy, / estalla en tu alegría,
the sudden wave / la repentina ola
of silver born in you. / de plata que te nace.

My struggle is harsh and I come back / Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo
with eyes tired / con los ojos cansados
at times from having seen / a veces de haber visto
the unchanging earth, / la tierra que no cambia,
but when your laughter enters / pero al entrar tu risa
it rises to the sky seeking me / sube al cielo buscándome
and it opens for me all / y abre para mí todas
the doors of life. / las puertas de la vida.

My love, in the darkest / Amor mío, en la hora
hour your laughter / más oscura desgrana
opens, and if suddenly / tu risa, y si de pronto
you see my blood staining / ves que mi sangre mancha
the stones of the street, / las piedras de la calle,
laugh, because your laughter / ríe, por que tu risa
will be for my hands / será para mis manos
like a fresh sword. / como una espada fresca.

Next to the sea in the autumn, / Junto al mar en otoño,
your laughter must raise / tu risa debe alzar
its foamy cascade, / su cascada de espuma,
and in the spring, love, / y en primavera, amor,
I want your laughter like / quiero tu risa como
the flower I was waiting for, / la flor que yo esperaba,
the blue flower, the rose / la flor azul, la rosa
of my echoing country. / de mi patria sonora.

Laugh at the night, / Ríete de la noche,
at the day, at the moon, / del día, de la luna,
laugh at the twisted / ríete de las calles
streets of the island, / torcidas de la isla,
laugh at this clumsy / ríete de este torpe
boy who loves you, / muchacho que te quiere,
but when I open / pero cuando yo abro
my eyes and close them, / los ojos y los cierro,
when my steps go, / cuando mis pasos van,
when my steps return, / cuando vuelven mis pasos,
deny me bread, air, / niégame el pan, el aire,
light, spring, / la luz, la primavera,
but never your laughter / pero tu risa nunca
for I would die. / por que me moriría.

-Pablo Neruda