Whenever I tried to write about Sorrento, my head filled with lemons. The symbiotic relationship that the Italian seaside town has with the citrus fruit is my overwhelming memory of four days in the region.
“The epiphany was served cold with that final smiley-faced cappuccino. A little teaser of a true connection; A touch of local life during my short visit.”
If I’m honest, I was drunk. The Chianti had gone to my head and the already glowing evening had taken on an ethereal quality, framed by a heavy Photoshop vignette.
Through the narrow windows of the cathedral’s bell tower, the landscape was split in two. Dazzling blue sky sliced across layers of terracotta rooftops and behind them, lay the Adriatic Sea.
The postcard A-lister, St John’s church stands over the small cove at Kaneo. It’s the final focal point on a peninsula that suddenly gives way to the blue waters of Lake Ohrid beyond, and has been for over eight hundred years.
With a characteristic scratch of his sun hat, Dimitri took a seat at the front of the boat and we chugged away from the fishing town of Peshtani. Lake Ohrid stretched out ahead: A beautiful hazy mess of still water and white sky that made the mountains of neighbouring Albania almost invisible on the horizon.