My father enjoyed listening to recordings of the famed Italian-American tenor Mario Lanza. Lanza was a volatile figure. There were even whisperings that his mysterious 1959 death at age 38 resulted from a “revenge” hit by Lucky Luciano after Lanza refused to perform for the mobster at a Naples concert.
Lanza’s superb vocals, though, lived on, keeping him a national treasure for decades afterward. Through them, I grew up learning all of the beloved Neapolitan songs — “O Sole Mio,” “Santa Lucia,” and, most memorably, “Torna a Surriento” (“Come Back to Sorrento”), the ballad of yearning that has bestowed enduring fame on the Italian town. The passion synonymous with Italian life is poured into the song’s electrifying final line: “Please do not go away and leave me in torment; come back to Sorrento and let me live!”
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So it was that when my husband and I departed for a tour of Italy’s Amalfi Coast, I was delighted to find on the itinerary a brief visit to Sorrento. But could a single day do justice to a destination that had intrigued me for a lifetime? The translated lyrics of the song guided us in finding out.
“Look at the sea, how beautiful it is, inspiring so many emotions.”
Our first glimpse of Sorrento is while approaching by jet boat from the Isle of Capri. The Mediterranean (here known as the Tyrrhenian Sea) with its intermingling blue and aqua currents and sprays of white foam has passengers madly balancing cameras to capture its many moods. It is not an easy feat, with the Volaviamare hydrofoil bucking at each swell. Twenty minutes later, our destination rises vertically from the water, a sheer rock face showcasing a cluster of pastel dwellings high atop. Although the colossal-sized letters trumpeting a hotel name on the cliff is a bit off-putting, it is difficult to glance away from Sorrento’s raw beauty.
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“Behold these sirens all around, that look at you with enchantment.”
Historians have traced Homer’s “Siren” mermaids to these parts, Sorrento even deriving its name from them. Their irresistible singing nearly lured Odysseus to dash his ship onto nearby rocks. As we dock at Marina Piccola, the Sirens must surely be at work, for the draw of this precipitous sweep of land is already palpable.
Thankfully, unlike Odysseus, we are not visiting in 1200 B.C. and can enjoy the convenience of a present-day minivan ride hundreds of feet up to our base for the day — the Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria. Clinging to the edge of the cliff, the hotel is an 1834 example of the Belle Epoque era of gilt and cherubs — many cavorting on ceiling frescoes. The outdoor terrace, however, trumps all interior wonders, overlooking what might be the most enticing view on the Amalfi Coast.
“Look at the sea of Sorrento, what a treasure it is! Even those who have traveled the world have never seen anything like it.”
We certainly haven’t. Stretching before us is the graceful curve of the Sorrentine Peninsula, embracing the Bay of Naples. The vibrant blues of sea and sky shimmer into one another in a real-life Monet creation. White accents of cruise ships and pleasure boats dot the canvas, complemented by the creamy marble sheen of classical busts on the terrace railing. In the distance, framing it all through a mystical haze, looms Mount Vesuvius of Pompeii fame. Another great tenor, Enrico Caruso, spent his final days soaking up this vista — one he had so frequently celebrated performing Sorrento’s signature song.
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Beyond the allure of Sorrento’s beauty, we are interested in exploring Piazza Tasso (named for the Renaissance poet who believed, “Any time not spent on love is wasted”) and its surrounding pedestrian ways. A statue of Saint Antonino stands in the center of the piazza against a backdrop of colorful flags. He is the patron saint of rescues, having reputedly saved a child swallowed by a whale off the Sorrentine coast 14 centuries ago.
We soon learn that not all of Sorrento is serene. The motorcycle appears to be the vehicle of choice of the 20,000 residents. They seem to take pleasure in buzzing the 20,000 visitors who double their ranks in summertime. Riders speed by within inches, challenging our Bostonian jaywalking skills as we attempt to cross the square to the pedestrian-only Via San Cesareo. In this narrow labyrinth, the designer boutiques that abound in Capri are scarce. Instead, local merchants and artisans offer a trove of Sorrento’s trademark handicrafts: soft leather handbags, custom-made sandals, and inlaid-wood music boxes that play — naturally — “Torna a Surriento.”
“Look at this garden and take in the scent of these oranges whose perfume goes straight to your heart.”
The subtle fragrance of citrus — harvested from the orange and lemon groves which surround the town — is omnipresent. The over-sized Sorrento Lemon manages to find its way into numerous goods for sale, including soaps, candles, and the potent “Limoncello” liqueur — lemon zest soaked in alcohol, water, and sugar.
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We even discover a second-story courtyard laden with lemon trees at the Ristorante S. Antonino, a block away on Via S. Maria delle Grazie. Here, we dine al fresco on Caprese salad and Neapolitan pizza. The Margherita’s thin crust is topped in the tri-colors of Italy with local Bufala mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil leaves, just as Italy’s Queen Margherita first requested it in 1889. And what more fitting “digestif” than the ubiquitous limoncello?
Across the piazza, where the town is older, we take in a few historical spots: the 18th century courtyard of the Palazzo Correale with its trompe l’oeil wall of majolica ceramic tile — another signature of the Campania region; and Sorrento’s oldest road, the Via Santa Maria della Pieta, where the ancient Romans on holiday once stepped. At the end of the historic way is the Cathedral – modest in scope, but notable for its wood inlay work showcasing local craftsmanship.
Too soon it is time to return to the Excelsior Vittoria for our departure to Positano. But as we stroll beneath the hotel’s tropical palms and umbrella pines, bidding farewell to the day’s briefly savored pleasures, the Siren song of Sorrento already seems to be calling us back:
“As you walk away from this land of love, do you have the heart not to return? Please do not go away and leave me in torment; come back to Sorrento and let me live!”
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Not even Lucky Luciano could silence such a plea.
Diane Speare Triant can be reached at dtriant@gmail.com.