Now that we have oriented ourselves to the public transportation systems and have scoped out much of our little town, it’s time for a road trip!
We have created a list of places we want to visit while we were here and decide that we can handle an outing about once every two or three weeks. Most of the places require only buses and trains to get to, but for three on our list, we will need a car… also several consecutive days of good weather.
With Pompeii now off our list, next up is Teatro Tempio di Monte San Nicola a Pietravairano (the theater temple of Monte San Nicola in Pietravairano). Pietravairano is a commune (municipality) located about 37 miles north of Naples. But it isn’t the commune we’re interested in seeing, it’s the theater temple on the tip top of the mountain above it.
It was discovered in 2001 by a pilot (also a historian) flying over the area after a brush fire. Currently, there’s a great deal of work being done to restore the temple and build a visitor’s center. There are even plans to install a funicular for those (like me) who cannot manage the steep climb. I came across photos of this fascinating archeological site while surfing the web awhile back and felt we simply must see this temple in the clouds!
We rent a cute little Fiat diesel, throw a few things in a duffle bag, grab our phone, and hit the road confident that google maps navigation won’t let us down. Assuming our rental is already fueled up, we don’t think to check it and have only been on the toll road about five minutes when the sensor goes off. Sure enough, we’re running on fumes and, with few exits and little to no highway signage, we haven’t a clue where to find a station. So, with the fuel sensor beeping and flashing urgently and no indication of a station nearby, we take a huge leap of faith and exit the tollway. Like a hungry baby screaming to be fed, the frequency of the sensor going off makes me feel we will soon need to get out and push. Then, like a miracle, a petrol station comes into view and I feel my heart rate return to normal.
Then it’s back through the toll plaza where Gypsy women loiter offering to assist you in inserting your ticket in exchange for some coins. With the fuel situation now dealt with, I relax knowing I won’t need google maps for awhile and can just enjoy the ride. I notice the sound walls on either side of the tollway are partially clear which is ingenious as it keeps the scenery always in view. This would be nice except most of the mountains we pass wear the scars of marble quarrying. As I said, road signs are few and far between but when one does appear, it’s usually just an oversized graphic of what’s available at the next exit, like a huge, oversized coffee mug, which is funny given the size of the coffee servings here!
Google maps directs us to exit at the small town of Pietravairano. The town appears to have two sections: one of mostly old buildings at the base of the mountain and the other of clusters of gravity-defying houses clinging to the steep mountainside like post-it notes stuck on a wall. Following the google maps arrow, we roll through the deserted town carefully picking our way through the tangle of unmarked streets. As we approach a small roundabout, there are numerous tiny streets and lanes terminating at odd angles so it’s unclear which one the pointer is directing us to take.
Following the pointer as best we can, we turn and google maps quickly reroutes us showing the little street we’re now on as a grayed-out secondary road to our destination. This one lane residential street we’re now traveling quickly becomes very, very steep and starts to narrow considerably. With feelings of uncertainty rising, we plod on carefully. By now my eyes are glued to my phone watching our slow ascent up this highlighted street and only a short distance from our destination.
With houses closing in on either side, we pull in our side mirrors and slowly proceed up the street until it becomes clear we can go no further without getting stuck. It’s as I ease the side door open and squeeze myself out to access the situation, that a lady comes out her front door and indicates we must turn around and go back down. I walk up to where she pointed and as I peer down the sheer drop off, my head spins. Quickly deciding not to share this with my husband, I turn around, smile, and motion him slowly forward to a point where he can turn around. With no guardrail and only loose rubble under the tires, I guide him as he performs a very tight 20-point turn to get us headed in the right direction. Getting back down is much more difficult as it requires me walking backwards in front of the car, guiding him back down that very, very steep street. He allows the car to crawl a few inches forward only after I have assured him he still has a one-inch clearance on each side. As we inch our way down, I keep imagining myself tripping and rolling all the way to the bottom while my husband is solidly wedged between two ancient walls!
Safely at the bottom and with our breathing restored, we stare in amazement at my phone where google is still showing that street as a secondary route to the top. Clearly this is meant as a hiking option, not a driving option. Regardless, soon enough we are back following the blue route line which is now leading us up the mountain on a slightly wider road. All is going smoothly until we are directed down a deserted farm road which terminates at muddy tire tracks going in both directions. A small hand-painted sign reads ‘tempio’ with an arrow pointing to the right. This looks unpromising as the tracks appear to simply lead into the woods and our surroundings are anything but a mountain top. We turn right and, following the tire tracks, slowly roll through the woods. We haven’t gone far when just ahead we see a man walking towards us. Mind you, he is only the third person we have seen all day! As we come up alongside him, I lower my window and say, “Lei parla inglese?’ He smiles broadly and replies in perfect English, ‘Yes, I speak English.’ For the second time in less than an hour, I lose my breath!
His name is Mimmo. And he is curious why we are up in this remote location as not many people know about the temple and far few visit it. He is just coming down from the site and wisely advises us it is a very steep and physically challenging 25-minute climb to the top. He also says there are construction crews still working on the site. During our brief chat, we learn he is a tour guide and is checking out the temple for possible future tours. After giving him a quick snippet of our story, we exchange contact info and he continues his way. (He will make another appearance in a future episode.) Turning around, we quickly decide we’ve had enough excitement for the day and will be content just looking at the YouTube videos of the site.
We drive back to the city of Caserta and start looking for a hotel close to the Royal Palace, which is next on our list. While there are many choices of accommodations close by, parking is a problem. You can choose to either wedge your car into a minuscule space in a lot or try to find street parking nearby. Tired of circling through town, we broaden our search area and come upon a true gem. Located just 5 minutes from the Palace, the Grand Hotel Vanvitelli is almost as grand as the Royal Palace itself.
Being late in the day, we luck out and snag the last available room – a luxurious suite! As we step into the marble floored atrium, my eyes are immediately drawn up to the elaborate empire-style chandelier suspended mid-air from a magnificent stained-glass ceiling. The massive chandelier fills about a quarter of the open space high above the elegant restaurant and bar.
Our corner suite with balconies is luxuriously furnished; at least four times the size of our apartment; and even has a doorbell! It’s sad we will only be here for one night as this is a suite best suited for long stays. It takes us an hour just to acquaint ourselves with all the switches and amenities!
We had planned to tour the Palace the following day but once we learn check-out is noon or after, we decide to save the Palace for our last day. And after enjoying a lay-in and a leisurely breakfast, we head out over the countryside to see the tiny town of my husband’s grandfather’s birth.
NEXT UP: Discovering his Italian roots: my husband’s quest.
Ann Kucera is a freelance writer living and enjoying life with her husband in southern Italy