Everyone told us to go to Sorrento. Seriously. Everyone.
That should have been the first sign.
The guidebooks said go to Sorrento. The blogs said go to Sorrento. The friends said go to Sorrento.
It’s beautiful, they said. It’s quiet, they said. There’s a gorgeous lemon grove, they said. Drink the limoncello, they said.
So we went.
And it was pretty.
And there were lemons and limoncello in a beautiful lemon grove.
And the plate of risotto I was served was gorgeous.
And we ate it on the cutest tiniest balcony.
But the risotto didn’t taste as good as it looked. In fact, it was bland.
The whole town felt bland. Every restaurant we saw seemed tailor made for the sort of tourist who wants to see Italy but values style over substance. They want everything to look like their perfect vision of Italy but don’t care if they ever meet an everyday Italian person or experience everyday life.
I know. My opinion sounds really harsh right? But that’s my honest first impression.
I only spent a day there, but I didn’t want to spend any longer. A strange feeling for someone who adores Italy.
But I think that I don’t like it because the parts of Italy I adore are the gritty parts. I love the dusty, sparse monasteries that allow overnight guests. I love the family run B&Bs that can re-book you at their aunt’s place around the corner when a pipe bursts the day you’re due to arrive. I love the craftsmen who take such pride in their work that they will tell you all about it even though they speak about 10 words of English and you speak about 10 words of Italian. I didn’t find any of these things in Sorrento.
But perhaps I missed something? If you think I did, if you’re part of the Sorrento loving crowd, tell me why I’m wrong and where I should go next time.