Let me tell you, it's hard falling in love when you're trying to cope with a 20 degree difference in temperature. When we left Naples it was about 27 degrees, and when we arrived in Brussels it was 7 degrees. Nina, having no idea it could be this cold in September, just kept looking around and exclaiming, "7 degrees! I just can't believe it!" Through chattering teeth I reminded her that it was fall, and it is never very warm at 1:30 am even in the summer. Truth be told, I had never dreamed it would be this cold. At least, I have socks though, poor Nina didn't think to pack any.
As I lay with my head resting against my backpack, my body stretched out across a hard wooden bench in a coffee shop (closed) in the Brussels airport, I thought: 12 hours ago I was in Capri. I touched my earlobes feeling for the red coral earrings I had luxuriously allowed myself to buy just to make sure that I hadn't made it up.
Capri was as beautiful as everyone had promised it would be. It has been blessed with an unusual combination of natural splendour, and the best of artificial materialism. It is like Disneyland for couture junkies.
Let me paint a picture of a day in Capri as it is meant to be experienced:
You are awakened by the sound of tinkling crystal as the handsomely tanned Italian waiter places your breakfast tray on the bedside table. You sip your Mimosa, and gingerly eat a bite of delicately sugared Cornetto before you glide from your silk sheets, and slip into a bikini and modestly transparent beach cover. Sunning yourself at the the hotel pool, your eyes wander over the panoramic view of lushly flowering trees, some bearing plumply dimpled lemons whose fragrance gives the air a spicy flavour. The ocean, perfectly turquoise, sits far below, twinkling in the glow of the unfiltered sunlight. As you sip Veuve Cliquot, and think about turning over, a small bird lands on your finger and sings a sweet song, a dolphin swims by in the distance, and you spy the handsome waiter out of the corner of your eye. Refreshing yourself in the pool you head back to your room to get dressed and begin the serious business of the day. Prada, Salvatore Ferragamo, Bottega Veneta, Louis Vuiton - they all must be visited! At the end of the day you are exhausted, the little piece of plastic hot between your finger as you charge a restorative cocktail at the hotel bar. As your handsomely tanned waiter puts your drink in front of you with a wink, you smile to yourself and think - tomorrow will be exactly the same.
Back to Reality:
Nina and I returned from our trip to Capri (I bearing a sunburn whose severity would be discovered much later), and sadly said goodbye to the Bella Capri. Our favourite guy was at the desk. We had both taken to him immeasurably after we became aware of his extreme softheartedness. Just the night before we had asked if we could print something and he told us he wasn't really supposed to let us. Then he said, "but if it is 1...2 pages, then no problem." We told him we didn't know how long the document would be, but we hoped not long. Then he said, "well...if it is 3-4...5-6...not 100 then it's ok." This was all said with a lot of shoulder shrugging and an eager to please look, which softened his otherwise Mafioso looking face. He seemed truly sad to see us go. We both hope that he is a father with teenage daughters who take advantage of him shamelessly, but love him wholeheartedly none the less.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment