Letters from Ischia
About twenty-or-so miles of the coast of Naples, Italy, surrounded by the Tyrrhenian Sea and characterized by an immense and forceful upheaval of lava rock, is Isola di Ischia. Charming as the Cinque Terres, Amalfis, or Positanos of the Italian Riveria are, the whispers that echo through the hills of this island spanning a little under twenty square miles are much less protuberant, reminiscent less of the lucrativity of international tourism, and much more of the familial homeliness those traditional images of Italia conjure.
You will likely begin, of course, in the port city of Naples, navigating fish markets lining the streets beneath mountains of narrow apartments strung with rivulets of damp clothes hung to simmer. Naples, the beautiful and arguably grittiest of the majorly visited Italian cities, is surrounded in entirety by geographical gems. To the East, Mount Vesuvius, the apocalyptic power that wiped out Pompeii. To the Southeast, Amalfi. Straight South lies Capri. The ferry, however, veers Southwest, toward the minuscule island of Procida. A mere molehill in size and a maximum of 15 minutes to drive around in its entirety — according to Manuela, a local — this oasis is not yet your stop; another thirty minutes, visible now through the salty haze and drawing ever closer.
Tempting as it might be to adhere to the reliability of hotels, Ischia’s older character warrants a corresponding level of familiarity, and as such, a bed and breakfast along the the hills above Forio feels only too appropriate. Sweet Poseidon, though undoubtedly kitsch in name, offers a unique experience of complimentary breakfast, clifftop poolside lounging, nightly home-cooked meals paired with local wine prepared by the matriarch of the household, and, of course, their iconic tiled rooms with ocean views throughout. If this image of traditional Neapolitan comfort isn’t your cup of tea however, try Mezzatorre Hotel & Thermal Spa, a famous Ischian classic, or Albergo Il Monastero, a hotel hidden inside an ancient seaside castle, for a more all-inclusive feel.
With panoramic views at every turn, it is hard to ignore the ocean’s sirenic call, and following the winding paths down to the seafront will likely be the first thing on the agenda. A tried-and-tested vespa will take you over the mountain top, past quaint vineyards and the ruins of centuries before, and, granted you bypass the use of GPS in favor of the subtle hand-painted sign indicating the dirt path entrance, you will be able to trek down the rocky tirade to Baia della Pelara. Only accessible to most by boat due to the covert signage, this picturesque cove is a quietly-loved local favorite and, as such, remains largely untouched throughout the day (a personal tip; baguette, brie, nectarine, arugula, and a nice, large bottle of water go a long way for their small cost, and enjoying a self-made sandwich while you dry off on the rocks is, of course, priceless). If, however, your goal is a more curated form of water-side enjoyment, Italy is famous for its lido rentals, allowing you to sit all day on a beach chair with an umbrella, water access, food, and drinks, all day; see Giardino Eden.
Italian cuisine is, of course, famous, and every region has its delicacies; Bistecca alla Fiorentina from Tuscany, Osso Buco and Risotto alla Milanese from Lombardy, and Neapolitan Pizza from Campania are just a few. And though of course the fish on any island is bound to be delectable — Ischia being no exception to this rule — the real local delicacy, is rabbit. Not conventional by any western means and inarguably unpalatable to some, rabbit has been enjoyed by Ischians for years, and is best if tried at Ristorante Bracconiere (if you arrive without a reservation and the restaurant is full like it almost always is, Ristorante l'Arca is a beautifully favorable alternative). If this is not to your particular palette, however, the best restaurants on Ischia are, without a doubt, the ones with no name at all. Assuming you do decide to stay at that quaint cliffside bed and breakfast, head right out of the gate towards the main path around dusk, make a left, and keep walking until you see a large, antiquated wooden gate. Upon entering, a raised garden terrace registers first, connected to the home of the family that owns this so-called “restaurant” — which is phrased as such because, contrary to general restaurant etiquette, there is no menu here. Instead, you ask the elderly man whistling in the kitchen for whatever you’re craving, and, simply put, he makes it for you. In terms of quality of food, there can be no comparison, and the feeling of having a meal cooked for you in someone’s home is utterly individual.
Ischia is reminiscent of an Italy we seem to have forgotten, obscured by phone screens listing off an endless tirade the top ten places to eat, drink, and see. It invites a much more traditional approach to travel — encouraging exploration and integration, and curating an experience that is completely and utterly unique to all who choose to venture there.
“My days here have been spent mostly in the company of rock and salt, and though torrid treks up the white lava rock immensity that is the mountain by which I currently reside have been enjoyable, my most tranquil days have been spent swimming in the small cove of Baia della Pelara, eating bruschetta, and retiring early to the confines of my cool, tiled room.”
- My Journal, 8.15.24