Ah, Capri!
Jet set central in the 1960s, I’ve had a thing for the place ever since reading that Jackie O and her even more beautiful sister Lee Bouvier frequented it. I love that surrounding yachts dot the Tyrrhenian Sea, stark against the azure blue.
Nowadays, socialites tend to flock to more obscure locales, since the island has been positively run over by tourists. Guilty as charged, though I can’t help when I was born.
If you can, try to avoid the funicular and bus, stuffy and packed with tourists. Instead, opt for the stairs that run up the island. If you’re not in great shape, then at least take the stairs on the way down. The stone paths are winding and secretive. You can catch a glimpse of the real residents, a total contrast to the high-end shopping offered on Capri’s summit. There are trees dripping with lemons, and families gathered around big oak tables toasting with homemade limoncello. Beaugainvillea climbs over the stone walls. You catch the scent of baking bread and ragu simmering on the stove.
Once you reach the summit, it’s a different world. Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana and Prada outposts await the moneyed tourists, and sun-bronzed millionaires taking day trips off their yachts. Even those who aren’t wealthy can enjoy what Capri has to offer; fresh-caught seafood and a bottle of wine. And of course, gelato!
Fayeruz Regan 
