Let's see...where was I before the onslaught of assorted interruptions? Ah yes, bella Italia. In our last episode, our intrepid travelers were getting ready for their trip down the coast to the Sorrento peninsula.

Monday afternoon we arrived by milk train to the small town of Sant’Agnello, one north of Sorrento. To get there we changed trains in Naples, known for excellent pizza and the Camorra crime syndicate. We were told to watch our wallets while in the station for the transfer, but we managed to only get pickpocketed 17 times in the 20 or so minutes we were waiting for the train. The sneak peeks of the Mediterranean we got on the ride to town were riveting.

We reached Mami Camilla B&B, a confusingly laid-out compound surrounded by a wall and containing a number of buildings, a small grove of lemon trees, and two dogs, and checked into our room, a little addition all alone on the third floor of the big building, accessible via a catwalk built over the roof of the floor below. The view from our perch was wonderful. Later we went out to investigate the town, and we ended up at a bar overlooking the sea, built precipitously on top of a cliff. The panorama included a distant view of Vesuvius.

Following our fantastic repast of beer and sandwiches from the bar's refrigerated case, we made our way over to neighboring Sorrento. Many of the coastal towns on this part of the peninsula were constructed in two-tiers: the bustling upper city, and then a lower portion that contains the harbor, beaches, and sometimes a smaller community. We went down to the lower part of Sorrento by way of a set of stairs, visited with the hydrofoils that go to Naples and Capri, and watched the sun set.

Up by a second set of stairs tunneled into the cliff face and back to the city center, and then back down to another part of the lower town that was not accessible from the first (except by water) for dinner at a recommended place. Jack got the fritto misto, always a safe bet, consisting of a plate of fried sea delicacies. When it came out, we discovered that this restaurant’s version was a huge plate of small whole fried fish, heads and eyes and bones and all, with a batter so thin it was almost non-existent. It was a tough slog because the fish were generally big enough so that their bones weren’t edible without some discomfort and small enough that the bones were difficult to remove, but Jack made a good dent in it (including eating a head) before giving up. We surreptitiously fed some fish spines to the cats wending their way between the tables. Two musicians came by and played accordion and maracas backed by a drum mix on cassette.

Ascending to the main town again by a different route (past the wastewater treatment plant!), we got stuck in a campground that overlooked the water for a while. We decided that next time around, we’d go the camping route and save some scratch.

Tuesday we woke up to another beautiful morning, and went down to the breakfast on the patio outside of the cooking school building. There were coffees and breads and a wide assortment of homemade jams--a perfect start to the day. We headed to Sorrento to start a hike in one of our guidebooks up to one of the villages located in the hills above the town.

The first leg was up a set of stairs that, every time we came to a switchback, displayed a Station of the Cross in full 3-D Technicolor ceramic tile. We made up captions for them to pass the time, such as "Jesus Naps for the First Time". At the end there was a small chapel open to the air being swept up by an elderly man. We walked up some small roads and footpaths through orchards further up the hillside, sampling the trailside treats as we went. I collected a pocketful of fallen hazelnuts, and noticed that others (primarily children) were doing the same.

At the top of the hill was Sant’Agata, which straddled the backbone of the peninsula and had views of the sea in the distance. We ate some pizza to fortify ourselves for the second leg of our journey. Once on the road again, we passed an industrial laundry situated in a half-ruined ancient dwelling, and a child care center blasting creepy "It’s a Small World"-esque music. We eventually ended up on a path paralleling the ridge overlooking the Amalfi part of the peninsula, walking through uncultivated areas that were full of diminutive fig trees, flowers, shrubs and tall grasses (as well as some sadly inedible artichokes).

After spending some time on a promontory with a good view of the landscape and the water, we pushed onward even as the trail, which had previously been well-marked (although not always obvious) with red and white blazes, petered out before us. We backtracked and tried another path. And then a third. Nothing.

Meanwhile, ominous clouds began rolling in over the hillside, portending either rain or a pea-soup-thick fog, neither of which boded well for traveling on foot over unknown, rocky terrain. There were two men conversing across a wall that divided a pasture from the hill, and figuring an actual road was better than a hillside we couldn’t get off of due to steep cliffs and fences bounding each side, we attempted to ask them where the nearest road was. They were unwilling or unable to assist. Abandoning any efforts to get where we were going by the prescribed route, we trespassed onto someone’s farmland, and then climbed two decaying fences to get out to a dirt road. We finally found a landmark that we recognized on our detailed area map (thank you, Tourist Information Center of Sorrento!), and then immediately got lost again because none of the offshoots were marked and we couldn't be sure if they were driveways or actual roads. Since we were running out of time, I arbitrarily decided that a footpath was heading in the general direction we were supposed to go and we descended towards what sounded like a major thoroughfare. It was the road into the next town on our route!

By this time dusk was falling and the clouds were more threatening than ever. Our choices were to continue on the hiking route, hope that the next bus was going to arrive on schedule (the books said they sometimes came early or late or not at all), or walk back by the road in the dark. The connecting footpath was nowhere to be found and the road seemed treacherous even in daylight, so I optimistically opted for the bus. I figured if worst came to worst we could find someplace in town open for dinner if we missed the next bus, since the following one wasn't due for 2 hours. We could call a cab as a last resort.

We bought our tickets, and since the next bus was to arrive in 20 minutes, we decided to check out the small and unassuming town of Colli di Fontanelle, which had some cheerful colored lights strung on the telephone poles. There wasn't much to see, but on the way back to the bus stop a guy tending his backyard orchard on a ladder handed down a couple of peaches over his wall. We thanked him for his generosity, even though the peaches looked a little pale and wan. However, they turned out to be a perfectly ripe variety that I'd never encountered before--light yellow bordering on green with just a hint of blush, yet juicy and full of flavor.

We sat down to wait in the approaching darkness and the bus was right on time. Halfway down the hillside it started pouring rain. We got dropped at the train station one town north of Sant'Agnello, hung out there for a while, planning on walking back after the rain let up, as it was not far. The rain failed to slacken, and it occurred to us that we could just take the train back, so we did. By the time we got there the rain had stopped, and we had dinner consisting of the local pasta specialty, perfect for being underdressed on a damp and cool evening. We tottered off to bed to nurse our psychological wounds and vowed not to hike again the next day.