...And who the hell cares? We are thousands of miles away from your USA. No one here is sympathetic to your Boston Tea Party, your Battle of Yorktown, and Your Declaration of Independence. This is Italy. We had discovered indoor pluming, had a huge empire, painted on ceilings and even had a few crusades before you were even in diapers. So get on the boat like everyone else, drink a coffee, and buzz off.
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Sorrento to Positano
And away we go boat bound to Positano. We have left Sorrento with neither fond nor terrible memories. Nothing against the costal mainland town, but seeing a swarm of sweaty Brits talking about swimming isn't my idea of a good time. Traveling Lisa seems to agree with me. For every great party, there is a terrible hangover. Sorrento has been our hangover. We arrived here from Stromboli Island via Naples and Sorrento has been just good enough. It's a layover town on the hopes to get to your final destination. There are long streets filled with souvenir shops, Laundromats, and money exchange houses. The city trolley tour bus passes by every ten minutes. It feels more like Disneyland than Italy. They do have nice purple tiled bathroom floors. I'll be sure to send all the English pub owners in Sorrento my best the next time I come around.
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