We're sitting in the shade of an olive tree, looking out to sea on the island of Capri. "Hey Garibaldi" exclaims the wizened woman in black on the bench. She leans over and gently pulls my beard. "Bang, bang" she chuckles, cocking her thumb and forefinger into the shape of a pistol. "Garibaldi was a big man with a beard like you!"
The old lady of Capri enjoys the company of the tourists on the terrace where we share sandwiches over a dreamy view of the Gulf of Naples. The steep volcanic island, with its famous blue grotto and undersea caverns, rises like a rocky citadel out of the sparkling turquoise sea, disturbed only by the wake of the hydrofoils bringing all the daytrippers from Sorrento and Naples to the marina far below.
I guess Giuseppe Garibaldi came to Capri when he invaded Naples - followed a century later by liberators like Churchill and Eisenhower who stayed at the grand old hotel on the cliff designed by the architect Corbusier.
People have sought sanctuary on the island for millennia from Roman emperors like Tiberius and Augustus to famous visitors like DH Lawrence and Pablo Neruda.
The perfumed gardens of the white-washed villas along via Taraga are a tangle of bright bougainvillea, jasmine, hibiscus, birds of paradise and prickly pears.
Heading up to the famous Giardini d'Augusto, we pass the villa where Neruda stayed and wrote of the island "clothed in lily-white and reddish purple flowers". Perfume from a wild carnation which grows only on Capri is distilled at the monastery on the island.
Capri is a delightful island to explore on foot. A funicular ride whisks new arrivals up to the piazzetta - the heart of Capri with its old stone church, tower, fruit and vegetable market, art galleries and trattorias serving a signature caprese salad on a Neapolitan menu.
Climbing up through covered arched alleyways, we leave the tourists behind and eventually reach Ponte Canone, a spectacular high outlook over the old Cistercian monastery, gardens and rugged coast of Capri.
We went looking for nymphs and mermaids on Capri, an idyll of ancient legend. Passing Greek sailors used to drop gifts into the sea to appease the mermaids who lived in the undersea grottoes.
Homer wrote of the sirens who lured ships onto the nearby Amalfi coast. A steep coastal path leads to the Nymphaneum, where in AD27 Emperor Tiberius "devised little nooks of lechery in the woods and glades and had boys and girls dressed up as pans and nymphs posted in front of caverns and grottoes" (so imagined Suetonius the historian). The "matrimonial cave", a rock window sculptured by wind and sea, frames a dizzying view of the bay far below.
We are lured ashore by the dramatic vista from the sundeck of the Crystal Serenity anchored out in the Gulf of Naples. Sorrento is like a mythical Siren, with its alluring pastel villas, lemon groves, fishing boats and steep stairways cut into craggy cliffs. Taking the ship's tender to the marina piccolo, we stroll from the main piazza to the fishing village where fishermen repair their nets and sell the catch of the day on the pier.
Perched on a high cliff-face, Sorrento is the gateway to the Amalfi coast with its fashionable jet-set resorts of Positano and Ravello. The old quarter is a jumble of al fresco cafes, gelateria, pottery shops, art studios and workshops selling exquisitely inlaid wooden boxes, the trademark souvenir of Sorrento.
Dodging an army of scooters in the narrow medieval streets, we taste limoncello, the specialty liqueur made from the zesty rind of the huge lemons grown in groves all along the coast.
We join the crowd escorting a horse-drawn carriage festooned in flowers which carries the bride to her wedding in the church of San Francesco. We end up swelling the ranks of the small wedding party in the courtyard, enchanted by the celestial sounds of a harp player and the divine chant of the Italian priest and congregation.
If you're looking for a romantic rendezvous, try a serenade in Sorrento for size.
We join passengers on a day excursion to Pompeii, heading up the windy-windy coastal road on the Campania coast. Mount Vesuvius grows closer and closer - the volcano which erupted in AD79, burying the wealthy Roman resort in ash, pumice stone and gas, instantly suffocating 2 000 inhabitants.
Two millennia and many eruptions later, a million people still live too close to the brooding volcano - despite an offer of €250 000 (about R3-million) per family to encourage locals to move to safer ground.
You could spend days exploring the evocative ruins of one of the most famous archaeological sites in the world. The sprawling complex of villas, temples, amphitheatres, forums, markets, baths, bars and brothels is forever frozen in time - a moment of horror captured in the macabre plaster casts of victims with terrified expressions on their faces.
Other body-casts show dogs in their death throes - overwhelmed by a boiling avalanche travelling at over 100km/h.
Our guide brings Pompeii to life by pointing out the small details of daily life. She shows us the deep ruts in stone paving left by chariots, the baker's clay ovens and the amphora of the wine bars known as a thermopolium where the Romans coined the expression, "One for the road" and "Life begins at forty". We spot graffiti which showed the Romans had a great sense of humour - "What is the use of having a Venus if she's made of marble?" (at the baths) and "You've got the wrong end of the stick!", a saying which originated in the communal lavatory before the advent of toilet paper.
Pompeii was renowned for its pursuit of pleasure. Our guide pointed out the small phalluses carved into the pavement stones, showing the way to the old brothel district.
We head off to "The House of the Big Willy" to marvel at the murals on the walls of the Lupanare (brothel) which depict a particularly well-endowed nobleman as well as graphic erotic scenes - a kama sutra of sexual positions which apparently enabled clients from all over the Roman Empire to point out their particular pleasure or fancy.
Judging from the gasps, the bawdy frescoes are one of the highlights of a tour for the two million tourists who traipse around hot and dusty Pompeii in a daze every year.
If the frescoes in the bath-houses aren't explicit enough, check out the Villa of the Mysteries with its frescoes showing the initiation of brides into the Dionysian cult and the debauchery of Bacchus.
Many of the villas have strikingly evocative names - try the House of the Tragic Poet, House of the Chaste Lovers, House of the Gilded Cupids and the Garden of the Fugitives where the casts of victims still lie in situ.
Let me not ramble on as too much has been written already according to an ancient cynic who scribbled on the basilica, "It is a wonder, O Wall that thou hast not yet crumbled under the weight of so much written nonsense."
"Would you like Louis Roederer or Veuve Clicquot with your canapés this evening, sir?" Choices, choices. Sasa, our butler, is worrying about which champagne to put in the ice-bucket for our sundowners aboard Crystal Serenity. Distracted by the view of Sicily to starboard, I ask him to chill a bottle of Monterey Chardonnay from our penthouse for dinner at Nobu's sushi bar on the seventh deck.
We were passing through the Straits of Messina aboard the Crystal Serenity, rated one of the best (and most luxurious) cruise liners in the world by Conde Nasté Traveler. We went ashore by day and dined and slept aboard by night.
Every morning we awoke to a wonderful view of a new port of call from our private terrace - and rushed down the gangplank to explore legendary destinations in our Mediterranean playground. We went daytripping in Capri, Sorrento and Sicily, the castles and markets of Corfu, the great walled city of Dubrovnik and the canals of Venice.
During alternate days at sea, we explored all the mod-cons of our floating luxury hotel from state-of-the-art spa, gym, golfing range and tennis courts to university at sea, casino, cinema, cabaret and theatre. We feasted on a floating smorgasbord of Asian, Italian, American and continental restaurants, bistro, cafés and grill.
The idyllic Mediterranean coastline called for authentic fare - served at Prego, the specialty Italian restaurant on Crystal Serenity inspired by Pierro Selvaggio's world-renowned Valentino restaurant. The wonderful quality of the local produce at markets along the way inspired an appetite for the robust flavours of the southern Italian coast - in wonderful dishes like wild mushroom soup in a bread cup, gnocchi alla Sorrentina with buffalo mozzarella; butternut, apricot and biscotti ravioli in burnt sage butter - and spinach and ricotta cappellacci. Please sir, can we have some more?
Taormina is reputedly the prettiest town in all of Sicily. At a café on the old piazza of Corso Umberto, we listen to mandolin and accordion musicians play the evocative theme of The Godfather and That's Amore. A few kilometres north lies the village of Forza d'Agro, one of several exquisite settings filmed by Francis Ford Coppola and his crew. Film buffs can even do a Godfather tour of the island - and visit Bar Vitelli, where Michael Coreleone meets his first wife, the innkeeper's daughter Appollonia.
The narrow cobbled streets are like a film-set - lined with medieval Gothic palazzos, Andalusian balconies, colourful flower boxes and mullioned windows. Terraced high on a ridge of Mount Tauro overlooking the sea, it is "as if Taormina had rolled down there from the peak" wrote Guy de Maupassant. DH Lawrence was another writer attracted to the beauty of Taormina. When we enquired at the tourist office set in a 14th century palazzo, they weren't sure exactly where "the Eenglish writer" lived in Taormina in the 1930s - and sent us on a wild goose chase to find the landmark.
When Goethe visited Taormina, he wrote in his Italian Journey, "To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything." Set smack in the middle of the Mediterranean, Sicily has been a strategic crossroads between west and east, north and south, for centuries.
We climb hundreds of steep steps cut into the mountainside to reach the ruins of the town's medieval castle and the village of Castelmola - renowned for its vino alla mandoria (almond wine). Our outlook from the summit affords wonderful views of Mount Etna (3291m), "the smokestack of Sicily", Europe's largest live volcano, which towers over the rugged, mountainous island. The grapevines planted in the fertile volcanic soils on its slopes produce a popular wine called Etna - along with the sun-drenched dessert wines we enjoyed at our Sicilian port of call.
The ancient Greeks stayed clear of the Sicilian coastline, believing it inhabited by monsters and savages. I wonder what they'd think of all the tourist hordes today?
From our eyrie, we look down fondly at the Crystal Serenity anchored in the bay - and wisely decide to head back to our good ship well before she sails for Corfu tonight. Leaving the Mediterranean behind, we would set sail for the Ionian Sea in style.
- For info on Crystal Cruises, contact Development Promotions at 011-442-0822 or email [email protected].