9.5.98
Villa Ottone, Portoferraio to be precise. I sit gazing out at the remarkably picturesque boy (the capital of Elba, Portoferraio, is much nicer to look at from here), with the thin white arrow of a jet 10km above me in the blissfully blue sky, boats moored beyond a private beach, and with a towel on my head. Just a precaution, you understand: the sun is bloody hot, and I have had more of it than I should in the last twenty-four hours, so the watchword is caution.
I say towel, but in fact the object is made of a special water-repellent material that ensures you are just as wet after trying to dry yourself with it as you were when you got out of the shower. This is just about the only neo of a place which is more or less perfect. We are staying in the best room of the Villa Ottone, right at its heart. We have (as usual) a fine, painted ceiling, and (as usual) a chandelier. Our room gives onto a West-facing terrace, which has the aforementioned view.
Built around 1800, it shows how (a) they really knew where to build, and (b) we have no idea today of scale. In particular, the height: the main rooms downstairs are (like a certain other house) two or three times what we have today. Right on the beach the house has a simple porch with pillars. Painted a gentle cream colour, the whole thing glows in the sun. Of which for the moment, there is plenty.
In fact, it is not entirely chance that it is sunny now: we waited nearly a week until the weather forecasts (Italian TV, USAtoday.com and Yahoo.com) looked reasonably good. We needed a hol: amazingly enough, it seems that we’ve not had a “real” hol for two years. Last year we kept postponing, and never went. The year before, we were in Ithaca of blessed memory, but Elba is really our first sun hol for 24 months.
We left yesterday at 6am – or rather a few minutes after (alas…). We had booked a place on the 10.10 ferry (Moby Lines). We foolishly believed a friend that three hours were enough to get there. In fact, crossing the mountains was slow. There were also roadworks, idiots in front etc. The net effect: we arrived on the quay at Piombino, literally as they were drawing up the back of the boat. What a sight – one that I’ve never before had (at least I’ve extended my range of experiences).
Fortunately, there was a ship after only an hour. But unbelievable to be perhaps 30 seconds too later after four hours of travel...
10.5.98
On our patio, 3pm – the sun fierce today but the wind very fresh. We had the beach and pool practically to ourselves – what few people there were here yesterday have gone. We ate lunch by the columns – gorgeous view.
The bartender – ex P&O – told us the sad story of the villa. Built by some Florentine noble family for their phthisic son who died here a few years later after completion. Eucalyptus trees planted to aid breathing…
Air very clear, unlike yesterday, when there were the most amazing sea-mists rolling in – very thick. Then we went in to Portoferraio – an ugly, sprawling place. But the rest of the island (such as we have seen) looks remarkably unspoilt. One of the problems of looking at endless holiday brochures is that you get the impression that the place is full of tourists. Coming in on the ferry round the north east corner of the island the landscape looked remarkably similar to Ithaca; and driving from Portoferraio to the hotel (about 10km) also showed a landscape not dissimilar, and rather beautiful.
The hotel is four star, and the food in the restaurant in the evening is good. Served with four-star style. We drank a bottle of Elban wine – rather good.
13.5.98
Well, not much to write really. The rhythm of the day is very circumscribed by meals. Breakfast at 7.40am (late…), then an excursion – yesterday to Portoferraio, today to Rio Marina. Then to the beach at around 11am, there for a couple of hours. Lunch in our room (and illicit goods bought at the Co-op), me outside on the terrace from 2 to 4. 4 to 6 on the beach or at the pool, then up here for shower (with towels borrowed from the beach), to dinner at 7.45pm. Then to bed.
Portoferraio has two ports: the new (horrible) and the old (quite charming) by the harbour and fortifications. We walked around a little of it yesterday, parking in the Piazza della Repubblica. Attractive enough – a little like Garda, but not as genteel (double-parking endemic). Interesting city fortifications through which one passes. The water in the harbour disgusting and full of litter – and yet there are fish there.
Today we aimed to visit Nisporto and Nisportino, supposedly very unspoilt bays. Alas, the road beyond Bagnaia turned out to be unmetalled. Instead, we cut inland under the superb ruin of Volterraio Castle that hangs over this whole area. Stunning landscape: twisting curves climb steeply along roads lined with blood-red poppies and myriad other wild flowers. Everything is very lush and unspoilt, and reminded me insistently of Mallorca – but to the latter’s disadvantage. This is greener and cleaner, but has something of Mallorca’s primitive, isolated flavour. This is surprising, given how close we are to Tuscany – and to spots I already know well: Pisa, San Gimignano, Volterra, Castiglioncello. But here really feels like a true island: near to the sea and far form everything else. Rio Marina is dubbed as retaining its medieval flavour, but you could have fooled me. Scrubby harbour, dull-ish main street. Hot.
On the way back, I slightly take the wrong road, and end up in Port Azzurro, which looks cheerful enough. The Spanish fortress looms impressively – and looks too nice to be a prison (which it still is). The road back to Villa Ottone less wild than the way out. To the beach, for more sun, sea and sand. The view across to Portoferraio makes this a slightly different sun-based hol. We are strongly minded to come back, perhaps for more than a month, as a summer retreat. We shall see...
No comments:
Post a Comment