Several years ago, on our first cruise in the Mediterranean, my sisters and I chose to visit Pompeii when our ship docked in Naples. This time, we decided a day trip to Capri, 17 miles from our port, was in order. Our early rapid ferry brought us in about an hour to Marina Grande, Capri’s main port. From the pier there our gaze traveled up the rugged cliffs, dotted with large homes and buildings, wreathed with impossible-looking roadways cantilevered out from their vertical faces and capped with wisps of cloud. Capri (pronounced, we were firmly informed by our guide, as CAP-ree, not cu-PREE) has long been a magnet for the rich and powerful, from Roman emperors to the latest jet set, but its beauty certainly appeals to anyone with an appreciation for those rugged rock walls rising from the sea and the lush vegetation that grows wherever it may.  We boarded small tour buses (the large standard-sized ones could never negotiate the winding roads and switchbacks here) and wound our way up to the town of Capri and then beyond it upwards towards Anacapri. Because flat land is at such a premium on this small, steep island, all available space is carefully used, but we noted as we climbed higher that a particularly large area along the sea was devoted to a clearly necessary soccer pitch. I “enjoyed” an especially thrilling view from my window seat on the seaward side of the bus as we trundled along that precariously positioned roadway we’d spotted earlier from below. I risked a peek over the side and  found that nothing — not a rock or a tree or even a scrawny bush — interrupted my view to the sea crashing over the rocks far below. Thankfully, we eventually arrived at the square in Anacapri and took the advice of Sasha, our charming guide, and forsook a tour of a local museum and queued up instead for a rather antiquated chair lift ride up to the 2,000-foot top of the island: Monte Solaro. Almost as soon as my chair lifted me off the platform, I was gliding along peacefully above the terraced gardens and overgrown hillsides below me. The only sounds that accompanied me were the chirping of very happy-sounding songbirds and the occasionally squeaking of the lift’s pulleys, punctuated once by the tolling of church bells from somewhere below. Under my feet grapevines and tomato plants underplanted with basil and squash, eggplant and beans spread across rock-walled terraces, and the scent of wild flowers drifted up: honeysuckle and Scotch broom, rock rose and hardy geraniums. Some fifteen minutes later, the cable steepened as we reached our final ascent. Ahead shreds and banners of fog  swirled and dissipated and reformed amid the pinnacles of rock. I later learned that another name for Monte Solaro is Acchiappanuvole — “cloud catcher” — an utterly perfect label for this magical place. We spent a good half hour or so wandering from one vantage point to another atop this rocky crag, momentarily enveloped in fog until breezes shifted the gauzy layer and we were suddenly looking far down to the sea below, watching as the gulls swooped and glided below us along the cliffs. The colors of the sea around the rocks below shifted as the sunlight encountered the clouds and then broke out strongly to sparkle on the waves again. It was so quiet up there; all I wanted to do was just sit back and absorb the sights and the sun and the scents and the peace. That would have to wait for a return trip, however, and I reluctantly caught my seat for the ride back down the mountain. Later that afternoon we were given some free time in Capri to use as we wished. Some sought the high-end shops of the Via Camerelle — Capri’s so-called “Rodeo Drive,” but Julie and I decided to simply stroll some of the narrow alleys and passageways where a cool breeze took the edge off a hot afternoon. Quite by accident we came upon a primary school just as its students were dismissed for the day. Boys and girls tumbled out the door dragging Hannah Montana lunchboxes and High School Musical backpacks and wearing t-shirts bearing other entertainment icons any child in America would instantly recognize. They were greeted by mothers who had been waiting nearby. We trailed the group back toward the main square, watching as the kids quickly handed off their gear to their moms so that, unencumbered, they could run ahead, laughing and joking and free of school for the day. The mamas trailed along behind, no doubt enjoying a little more time to gossip with each other before having to prepare the evening meal at home. We had to smile at a scene that could just as easily have been observed outside any school in our towns back home, and one which both of us had certainly been a part of when our children were younger. It was a powerful yet gentle reminder of how similar to each other we all are, no matter where in the world we are. What a nice way to end a lovely day in such an enchanting place! — Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader