I’ve heard of Capri, but had no real image in my mind of what it was like.  This turned out to be one of the ports where I really would’ve liked another day to explore.  Capri and Anacapri are incredibly charming and stunningly beautiful.  We had a great time exploring the little shops and enjoying this wonderful cliffside destination.

Oh, we’re going to die.

Drivers in many European cities have seemingly superhuman reflexes, resulting in absolutely terrifying, albeit safe, rides.  I’ve been incredibly impressed with all of our drivers, but I was blown away by the skills demonstrated by our bus driver in Capri.

The island of Capri has two main towns: Capri and Anacapri.  Anacapri is higher up on the mountain, looking down on Capri (ana- is a Greek prefix meaning “up” or “above”).  There is one narrow, steep, very winding road that connects the two towns.  Houses, shops, hotels and hillside walls closely line the street, leaving very little, and sometimes no, shoulder.  Pedestrians have no sidewalks, blind corners have no extra room to maneuver, and the streets themselves aren’t even wide enough in many spots to allow two vehicles to easily pass one another.  Despite this, vehicles quickly drive up the steep hill, barely slowing down for traffic driving in the opposite direction, passing each other with only centimeters to spare.  Sideview mirrors are not utilized, as they are permanently folded into the vehicles’ sides, lest they be knocked off if placed in their intended position.  Scooters zip and zag between slower moving traffic, their operators lacking proper safety garb.  Everything seems to work, however; I didn’t notice any evidence of a recent accident, and our bus driver made it to the upper town without a scratch, even though I was certain we were going to hear the screeching sound of metal on metal as we passed other tour busses.  I wanted to close my eyes, but I was absolutely fascinated at how close we got to the vehicles, walls, and other obstacles.  Our bus driver didn’t bat an eye; I’m sure he’s done the drive hundreds of times.

Where’s the safety net?

Once we got to Anacapri, we were given the option to get on a lift that took us to an overlook at the top of the mountain.  I wasn’t going to give up that opportunity, so Kevin and I ran over to get on what I was assuming was going to be a typical ski lift.  It was a ski lift, all right…one that a ski resort got rid of due to a lack of safety features.  I’m pretty sure I saw one of those signs like you see in a workplace prone to accidents, and it read: “It has been 0 days without injury.”

We walked up a stairwell leading to the platform to get on the lift.  Once on the platform, I saw that the chairs were single-occupant and tiny…really tiny.  I had my big camera bag strapped to my back, and I knew there was no way I would be able to sit in the chair with the backpack on, nor was there any space for me to set it beside me as I rode up.  I flipped my backpack around and wore it on my chest, the shape of it completely blocking sight of my feet.  I only had a minute or so to get situated before it was my turn to go; I felt like I was going to fall forward, and the straps of my pack weren’t adjusted properly to comfortably fit facing the other way on my body.  The lift operators offered no help…heck, they didn’t even say anything to me when I first got on the platform about my backpack situation; the man just pointed to the spot where I was supposed to stand and wait for the next chair that was speeding my way.

Have I mentioned that I’m a klutz?  Well, I am.  Most of the sick days I take at work are because of an injury.  I’ve either fallen down the stairs, fallen in the backyard, shot a nail through my finger with the nail gun, dislocated my shoulder, stumbled off the roof, cracked my head on something…the list goes on and on.  One of the most common sounds in my house is <THUD>, <THUD>, <OWWW!>.  Kevin just rolls his eyes and asks, “What did you do now?  Are you conscious?”

I was thinking about my ability to hurt myself as the chair approached.  Because of the backpack, I couldn’t really see its exact position, so I had to do a bit of estimating…I was a little off.  I sat down a little too soon, which made the chair swing back, throwing me forward.  I was able to hang on, but I was sitting too close to the edge of the chair to be able to pull the safety bar down (it came down from the side, pivoting from the hand railing, rather than from overhead like most lifts I’ve been on).  The operator quickly reacted to my difficulty and slowed the lift down so I could get situated…just kidding, that jerk didn’t do anything but watch my chair swing back and forth as I held on for dear life.  I was about 20 feet off the ground before I was able to scoot back in my chair and get the safety bar down.  The chair was still swinging back and forth in an exaggerated motion, making a loud <squeak>, <squeak> sound, drawing the attention of everyone who was passing me in the opposite direction.  It was a good five minutes before my chair stopped its pendulous movement.  I was so thankful that Kevin was in the chair ahead of me and missed all of this action.

After an amazingly fun and beautiful ride, I managed to gracefully dismount the chair at the top of the lift and joined Kevin at the stairs leading to the overlook.  We were absolutely blown away with the views.  I ran around, snapping as many pictures as I could, trying to remember to take time to just stop an enjoy what I was seeing.  We spent about 15 minutes looking around before we headed back down on the lift, this time without any problems.

We were talking to someone from the ship a little later in the day, and he said that one of the passengers in his group was getting on the chair lift, fell off, and face planted on the platform, inches before it ended.  I’m sure they just quickly rolled her out of the way so the lift could continue on without having to slow down one little bit.