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Italy was fantastic, I had an amazing time and really didn’t want to come home. Italian men are outrageous, SO forward. I never went with any, but it wasn’t through lack of offers. I couldn’t quite believe it, and it seemed to be only me in our group that they all went for. Well it didn’t just seem to be, it was. I think they must just like tall blonde women. Or maybe they were all tranny admirers, or being Italian I expect they weren’t too bothered, anything that moves…
I’ve never had anything like that sort of attention in England, and I’m certainly not going to complain about it, but most of the guys chasing after me weren’t that hot so I was just polite to them and not too flirty, mostly. There were of course some really hot guys around, but sadly they couldn’t be persuaded to come back to our house and party with 4 women. Ahh well.
A couple of days into our trip we drove down the hill, (well it’s more of a cliff really, the roads in the area are quite an experience), and visited the "Grotto Dello Smeraldo" – The Emerald Grotto. It’s a place I visited last time I was there with the family and it was lovely; a cave accessed from the road by elevator, with an opening below sea level that lets in the sunlight and makes the water appear a beautiful bright emerald colour, hence the name, obviously. I remember we had quite a witty old boatman who rowed us around and pointed out various stalagmites which looked like the tower of Pisa and politicians of the day, and played the opening notes of the Cornetto advert on some mini stalactites, which of course is a famous tune in Italy, "O sole mio" I think it’s called. I thought it would be fun to go back and see it again, and it was just down the road from us. The more famous "Blue Grotto" in Capri by the way was a great anticlimax after this; unlike the Emerald Grotto the cave is accessible by sea, so they row you in and row you out again and don’t say a word, and the water is blue. Pretty colour water, but that’s it, really not worth the effort. Anyway I digress…
So, we all descended in the elevator and I said "Buongiorno" to the rather handsome and considerably-younger-than-last-time boatman. He chatted to me for a while and then insisted when we got in the boat that I sat in the front seat, right next to him, so he could, "speak English to me", which I think is Italian for "look down your cleavage", or something. He chatted to me between the stalactites and gmites, asking where I was from and what it was like and stuff. The tour was much the same as I remembered it, but the boatman didn’t play "O sole Mio" this time; I guess after 31 years the stalactites had gone out of tune. And we went a little late in the day so less of the water was green because the sun had moved round, but it was still beautiful, and the boatman gave us "Emerald jewels for the ladies" by splashing his oar across the water. Great fun.
So out we went and the boatman approached me and said, "You like a private tour?"
I couldn’t believe it! "YES PLEASE", cried the voice in my head. The thought of making love to an extremely hunky and handsome Italian boatman in a secluded cave with romantic natural light from underwater seemed, well, bloody amazing. For some stupid reason though I said no. I couldn’t just dump my friends, and I suppose maybe I’m just not that easy, at least when I’m sober. I spent the next few days wondering about it though, very tempted to go back. He did try to persuade me to go on his "private tour", carried on chatting in the elevator, and asked me to stay a while longer as we went out and headed back to the car. "You can come in and play my piano…" he said, having asked me earlier what I do for a living. I wonder if that’s Italian for "play with my organ…" or something?
So he was the first of many to chat me up, and certainly the most eligible. I didn’t expect any of this. Having had little experience of such encounters, most of which have been in tranny bars, it was quite a boost.
The waiters are the most flirty, but it’s part of their job so I don’t count them, but I did get lots of, "Ahh, bellissimo, young-a lay-dee…" and the like. I think the other 3 girls were feeling a bit left out after a while. "How do you do it?" I was asked. I dunno. It doesn’t normally happen to me.
It wasn’t the outrageous Italian flirtyness that made my holiday so great though, it was just, everything. The place was amazing. The view from our balcony was gorgeous, the whole coastline is stunning. The weather was SCORCHIO! Pompeii and Vesuvius were more moving and dramatic than last time. We also visited Herculaneum, a town similar to Pompeii, founded by the Greeks on the other side of the Volcano. It’s still being excavated, most of it being covered by the modern town now called Ercolano. Really interesting. Actually there is still more of Pompeii to be uncovered, but I am told they are now putting the money into preserving the already exposed ruins, which are now starting to deteriorate slightly from being exposed to the elements. More has been excavated though since I was last there 31 years ago, so it was well worth going back, and in fact had quite a different vibe from how I remembered it.
The whole area, the whole experience seemed different to last time, but I think that's down to me, and how I have changed. I was 14 last time I was there, in the throes of changing from a cute little blonde child who was often mistaken for a girl, into a slightly gawky teenage boy, who felt slightly ugly, and extremely uncomfortable about the changes happening to my body, and somewhat apprehensive about the prospect of becoming (cue scary music&hellip
a man.
I did appreciate the beauty of the place of course, even then, but probably in a way that I thought I wasn’t supposed to. So this time things were different. I feel right now, being there felt great, I loved it. I cried on our last night, having been to Sorrento and Positano (so pretty) that day, and eaten out on a balcony overlooking Positano and the Bay. The meal was fantastico, the setting was idyllic, the sunset was beautiful, and the drive back along the coast road with lights twinkling everywhere just finished me off. I was overcome with the beauty of the place, felt so privileged to be there, and the late-night drive back was just brilliant. I was so sad to be coming home.
And here I am and the weather is rubbish. But I’m not sad any more; the memories will stay with me forever and the whole thing has done me the world of good. I am so happy I went. My friends had been talking about going away for a while, and I was always reluctant to go along, worrying about having to dilate every day and my knobbly knees on the beach and piddly stuff like that. But as soon as they mentioned the Amalfi Coast I knew that was one place I wanted to go back to. And I would go again, tomorrow please…
We did lots more than I have mentioned of course, but I’m going on a bit aren’t I so don’t want to bore you with all the details. I must just mention though that I had my first post-op swim. We went down to the beach in Positano and Gillian and I had a dip. It was wonderful, I wasn’t even worried about looking silly in a bikini, and I didn’t even mind getting stung by a jellyfish, another new experience for me!
So my first proper holiday as the woman I was meant to be. It couldn’t have been any better.
Though there was that boatman wasn’t there…?
Maybe next time.
Ciao!
From the right - Laura, Lisa, Lucy, Gillian
Overlooking Sorrento Harbour
After our swim, hence the "mermaid hair"
Popping to the shop in Furore
Exploring Sorrento
The last supper
Statue in Pompeii
A happy girl
