Day 2 – Rough Sea
Sunday, 16th April
I've known a new Italian expression since Saturday: mare mosso. That means rough sea.
Vinzence, a steward on the Naples-Capri ferry, told all passengers to move to the middle. It's more bearable there. The tourists stayed in their window seats in the bow of the ferry. Vincence handed out sachets.
Afterwards he collected the sachets again. A woman had missed her bag. Scolding Vinzence, he took note of the woman cleaning her seat. He expressed that he had said it after all and that he could not understand why no one believed him. Matthias reproduced the scolding almost correctly, although he doesn't speak Italian. That shows how much empathy and knowledge of human nature he has.
When we disembarked in Capri, many people asked us if we wanted a taxi. So we would be comfortably brought to the hotel.
Now it was time for my new vocabulary. My stomach had retained everything, but its contents still seemed open to discovery. I explained firmly that after the Mare mosso all I wanted was peace and quiet.
The color of my face was probably exactly the delicate shade of green that the taxi drivers didn't want to lose their daily income. Even if the insurance replaced the day's earnings, someone would have to make the taxi drivable again. The taxi drivers already knew that. In this way, the Mare mosso stretched its greedy fingers far inland and claimed more victims.
We got to the hotel unmolested.
Matthias looked the same as always. In his job, he must have learned to keep everything to himself, even under adverse conditions. While I spent the crossing lying down, he sat stoically next to me and looked out the window. This is the stuff true heroes are made of.