Taking Tours on Italy's Coastline

Sarah Tucker and son consider the history of Italy’s sunlit shores

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In the quivering collective psyche of the travel trade, fear is flavour of the month. In 2016, the list of warm destinations generally deemed safe – free of unrest, ISIS, Trump devotees or any other manifestation of the macabre – has shrunk to a basic South European core. Throw in a few Apennine earthquakes and the case for staycation sounds as loudly as the crack of doom.

Still, everyone needs a change, and as we still have a passport permitting entry without a visa into 174 countries, the smart thing is to use it while we can. So this summer I took my son, Tom – 17 and glued to Netflix – off to Naples for a week. Culture, heat and beauty combined: the perfect microclimate for youthful learning. Teenagers are wonderfully intense.

Half an hour from the absorbing outdoor museum of Pompeii, Naples is also just a short hop from the Amalfi Coast, inspiration for writers, artists, musicians and every middle-aged woman in search of an Eat Pray Love awakening – or at least a decent pair of leather sandals. It’s noisy and dirty, but in a cool Neapolitan sort of way; it oozes Limoncello and celebs; and it’s indisputably the global capital for pizza and thieving alike. Enough variety to please at least some of the people some of the time. But could it enthral a Netflixated teenager for a week?   

One study aid you will definitely need is a guide. The human variety, that is – preferably three of them, drawn from different companies and, if possible, booked in advance.  

First up for us was Maximo (sorrentotourism.com). All his life he had lived in Sorrento, 45 minutes by hydrofoil across the bay from Naples (just 22 euros return and worth every cent). He told us how the town got its name, where his grandmother lived and what inspired the writer whose statue sits proudly in the centre of the square. 

“A wealthy Russian lady bought the Villa Tritone last year,” he explained, pointing out the prestigious landmark. “She isn’t famous – just rich.”

A hint of regret. To this cobbled, cafe-strewn, clifftop world, clustered around the Church and Cloisters of St Francis, the anonymous lady had no distinctive colour to add. She had simply bought shares in paradise and then faded into the magical glare. 

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Then there was Giovanni, (lovelyamalfitours.com): mirror-sunglassed, smart-suited and effervescent in his air-conditioned van. He took us to Positano, Amalfi and Ravello, showering us with knowledge while playing the theme to The Godfather, complete with Italian lyrics. He was also the son of the local police chief – the ideal chauffeur for Naples itself, where traffic chaos turns simple hops into marathons. See Naples and die before you find the way out.

In Positano, we paused for breathless views and lemon slush, walked down (yet more) cobbled alleyways, gazed at brightly dressed tourists – who duly gazed back – and gawped at the luxury yachts (one owned by DiCaprio). Here the houses seem to topple onto one another and the Moorish influence is strong: as in Sorrento and Amalfi, the churches resemble mosques.  

Amalfi is smaller and more rustic. We took a boat with a local fisherman who claimed that this is where the compass was invented – the Chinese may disagree – and made for a restaurant in a bay reached only by boat. Crayfish and linguini, octopus with fennel and local wine with peaches which you eat with a cocktail stick. Absolutely fabulous. 

And so to our last guide, Renato. Blond and blue-eyed, he did not look Italian at all, but there is a strong Norman influence here, as well as Spanish and Arabic. Renato was my favourite, telling rather than selling the story of the region. He is one of the owners of napolinvespa.it, which chauffeurs tourists in a Vespa or Fiat 500, adding hugely to the fun of the tour. Everyone waves as you drive by in a Fiat, says Renato, as it “reminds them of day trips with their grandparents”.  

We went to Pompeii, wiped out in AD 79 but gripping even at 90 degrees. A free guidebook tells the visitor about each building and its excavations since 1800s – enough to keep you going for a day, though I would recommend three hours. After that young children, at least, will begin to flag.  

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Mirante Carlo

It’s the Garden of the Fugitives that stays with you. Once occupied by homes, and now transformed into a vineyard, it was here that 13 victims of Vesuvius – adults and children – were found literally ‘seized’ by death as they tried to flee the volcano, overcome by scorching heat while making for the Nocera Gate. 

Built in 70 BC – 150 years before disaster struck – Pompeii’s amphitheatres are the oldest known from the Roman world. Pink Floyd once played here, framing their unique shows against the brooding backdrop of the destroyer, due to erupt again within a century. 

On our way back to the hotel, talk turned to the subject of educational trips. 

“Those who think they know it all, learn nothing,” ventured Renato. “It’s those that realise they don’t who have a chance. It’s all about your ability to observe rather than judge. You may be able to afford five star luxury, but those hotels protect you from the outside, or admit only a sanitised version. What you get is not real at all.”

This holiday, however, had indeed been an education. Even Tom agreed. And then, at Naples airport, someone pinched my duty free. You live and learn.

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Check out another one of Sarah's great travel pieces like her advice on where to go on your final family holiday with your kids before they're all grown up and unpleasant