A Place To Read A Book And Write A Letter: Ravello

After Pompeii, I took a train to Salerno; Salerno's a port city, an industrial city, and thus not a tourist destination. It can be used, however, as a jumping off point for prettier, less productive costal towns. The main pedestrian walkway is wide and looks like a lower class Spanish Steps, with less people. The rest of the city smells like fish. Good hostel, though: it runs flush with a church, and at night the choir might sing you to sleep.

In the morning I took a bus to Amalfi, a popular costal town, then to Ravello, on the cliff above. The road from Salerno to Amalfi was like a basketball hoop: you are positive only one ball can fit at a time, but, sure enough, two basketballs can barely slide by, side by side. The road from Amalfi to Ravello, though, was like a small plant pot, into which two basketballs are being forced. Exciting.

Ravello is kind of famous for its villas. Up on the cliff, old people (as in people of old) built first the Villa Rufolo, then the Villa Cimbrone, looking out over the Mediterranian Sea. I walked the Villa Rufolo first. It was purchased and renovated by a Scottish botanist a century or two ago, and is known for its gardens. Even in the winter, these gardens were beautiful. I can only imagine (or look at pictures on the internet; see above) how it looks in the spring. Upside to visiting in January: there's none else here. How it looks in the spring is filled with hordes of ignorant tourists. Not at all like myself. Rufolo is now owned by the Rufolo Foundation, which is a great advocate of Richard Wagner's music. Apparently, he called Rufolo the physical representation of his music (I know what you're thinking, cause I thought it too; no, he's not the same guy who was in Hart to Hart).

Villa Cimbrone is probably three times as big. It didn't have any flowers, not yet, but it did have extensive walking ways, and a lot of statues; it reminded me a lot of Pemberly. I ended up sitting on a bench at the edge of the property, overlooking the sea, AGAIN (are you serious? I mean, enough is enough, Mediterranian), and hung out with a statue I named Steve for a couple hours. Good man, that Steve. Fun Fact of the Day: Greta Garbo, 1930's starlet, eloped in the Villa Cimbrone.