From Napoli to Capri, Part 8: Sant’Angelo
Not content with wowing its visitors with its rolling volcanic landscape, lush Mediterranean scenery and ravishing blue seas, Ischia throws a few more treats into the mix by extending its landmass further out into the sea at various points along its shoreline. These little islets, or rocky promontories, have subsequently characterised the coast of Ischia, acting as nuclei for the development of quaint fishermen’s villages, the historical setting for imposing fortresses or places of worship, and providing visitors with truly awe-inspiring landscapes quite unique to this part of the world.
On Tuesday, I shared our experience of what is undoubtedly the most famous of these rocky outcrops, atop of which the Castello Aragonese sits in all its glory. Today is the turn of Sant’Angelo which, complete with its very own islet and impossibly quaint sprawling village, has to be declared one of the prettiest, if not the most beautiful town in all of Ischia.
We headed to Sant’Angelo on the recommendation of our friend Sarah, whose fine taste and vivacity for life cannot be challenged. We proceeded to follow her recommendations to the letter, from strolling up through quaint, ceramic laden narrow white-washed lanes through the village, and along to the rather handsome stretch of Fumarole Beach, to quenching our thirst on the scintillating mix of lemon granita and freshly squeezed orange and lemon juice at Enzo la Bomba. His juice, served up near the town’s bus stop, was a bomb indeed, as that icy, sweet, citrus freshness exploded in our mouths and left us begging for more. All this we enjoyed, and more, although sadly Sarah’s challenge to find a rather hunky waiter at a nearby hotel passed us by – we’re leaving him for next time.
But all that Sarah described of this place we found and savoured, lingering until the sun turned golden and glittered over the gently rocking waters of the small harbour there. Sant’Angelo is the perfect Ischian town. Small and quaint, full of colour and character. Little enough to digest in mere hours, but so oozing in Italian charm that one could easily spend hours sipping cocktails by the waterside and gorging on gelato barely noticing the passage of time… how easily I could pass life in such a picture-perfect paradise of Mediterranean delight. Sarah… I think it’s time to hit the estate agents lists.
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