Salve Procida

The only female tassista on the island, she had taken over the taxi business from her father. “Uh-uh,” she warned jokingly when I reached for my seatbelt, “We are friendly drivers here – no need for that”.

Often overshadowed by its flashier neighbours of Capri and Ischia, Procida (pron. PRO-chee-dah) is where Italians come to relax. “You come for holiday? It is very quiet here, no boom-boom-boom like Ischia. You like the quiet, no?”

A traditional fishing village since the 17th century Procida is so beautiful that images of it adorn Naples Airport. Named Italy’s Capital of Culture in 2022, the island dotted with beaches and bays has two main towns: Marina Grande, where the ferries arrive from Naples, and the stunning fishing village Marina Corricella, where I was staying.

“Salve!” beamed Vincenzo, the welcoming host of Callia Rooms B&B. A Procida local who has travelled extensively, Vincenzo enthusiastically explained what was nearby, where to eat, and what to see. Waiting in my room was a complimentary bottle of prosecco and much appreciated water.

A few hours later and keen to explore the island I Whatsapped my new best friend, Sabrina. “Andiamo!” (let’s go) she beckoned, waving me over as she stubbed out a cigarette. Winding through the narrow streets – side mirrors folded in – we started at the highest point on the island, the fortified Terra Murata.

The view from the top was jaw dropping; a picture-perfect postcard of Marina Corricella’s kaleidoscope of colour, looking out to the boat-filled bay framed by the Mediterranean Sea. Sabrina nodded with pride, explaining that the pastel-coloured houses were originally painted that way so fishermen could recognise their homes when returning from sea.

Passing where the daily fish markets are held at Marina Grande, we drove east to Spiaggia di Pozzo Vecchio, nicknamed Postman’s Beach after the 1994 film Il Postino. Small and pebbled, it is less popular than the nearby black sanded Ciracciello Beach with its choreographed sun umbrellas and overhanging cocktail bars.

At the southern end of Ciracciello lies the nature reserve of Isola di Vivara, an island connected by a causeway but with restricted access due to its protected status. Travelling across the island, gated villas and hidden groves began to appear, before the stone roads descended to compact houses once again.

“Ciao, ciao!” called out Sabrina to two women chatting across balconies, their washing lightly flapping in the wind. Most Procidani, especially those born here, know each other and there is a palpable sense of community. “When we go to Naples, we are easy to pick out because we have a different dialect.”

Following closely behind a couple of Vespas we made our way back to Marina Corricella, where Sabrina dropped me off with a cheery “Arrivederci!”. I made my way down one of the four steep stairways to a restaurant Vincenzo had recommended, Il Pescatore.       

Before arriving in Italy my food research consisted of watching one episode of Stanley Tucci’s Tucci in Italy, when he visited Procida for its… lemons. Unlike the mouth-puckering citrus we know, limone pane are grander, more bulbous, with the tart flavour replaced by a subtle sweetness. The waiter brought out insalata di limoni procidana (lemon salad) before masterly tossing the chilli flakes into the limon, as if it were a scene from The Talented Mr Ripley. Of course, I had to finish the evening in that most Italian way, pistachio gelato from the waterfront’s Chiaro di Luna.

The next morning it was time to see the island from a different perspective. “New Zealand! I was in Auckland three times when I was second engineer for P&O,” announced our boat captain, Christian. With two other passengers on board, we circumnavigated the island over a couple of hours as Christian pointed out the caves, cliff formations and ruins that were only visible from the water.

Back on land the sun was punishing. It probably wasn’t the best hour to walk up to Procida’s landmark abbey, Abbazia di San Michele Arcangelo. I was nearly tempted to have a break - “Free limoncello shot if you dance your way to the truck” the sign said.

Originally built as a Benedictine Monastery, the 1000-year-old building was deserted by monks in the 15^th century due to constant pirate attacks. Later dedicated to Saint Michael the Archangel, over the centuries it has had ecclesiastical works of art, an intricate wooden box and gold ceiling, and numerous frescoes added to it. By pure coincidence the abbey was playing an even bigger role this evening - the starting point for Catholic Processione del Corpus Domini through the streets of Procida.

Luckily for me the procession was to pass by Vincenzo’s Callia Rooms. School children led the way, holding up a banner for world peace, followed by clergy in yellow, red and aqua blue vestments, before the Archbishop of Benevento (who was once a pastor on Procida) came into view, walking under a four-poster canopy. Local dignitaries were next, but it was the Procida musical band, playing amongst the hundreds of faithful that received the loudest applause.

As the procession stopped at various waypoints, remarks were celebrated with fireworks, colourful flashes in the night sky, sparks fading back to earth. And then there were the explosions, one after another after another wowing the procession.

It turns out the Sabrina was only partly right - Procida does have some boom-boom-boom after all.