When I was planning our holiday, I knew we wanted a few stints on the coast or at least somewhere with a pool or resort to try and combat some heat and balance out the busier and bigger places such as Rome and Venice. With a family of five it quickly became apparent that hotels were going to be difficult as we would need two rooms and European hotels don’t have adjoining rooms. We were also being careful with our spending to ensure we could achieve our goals. So our holiday has consisted primarily of mid range air bnb rentals.

I googled beaches in Italy and the criteria I had was pretty simple. We wanted somewhere easily accessible without a plane. Sorry Sadegna and Sicily. Somewhere that wouldn’t take too much time to get to via train, sorry Calabria! And also somewhere that was kid friendly and not overwhelmingly heaving with tourists in peak season. Sorry Amalfi Coast!

Ischia came up and sparked my interest. Especially when a Vogue travel article said “Here, fancy hotels are juxtaposed with scenes of Italian nonnas hanging out laundry, religious street parades and zooming Vespas. It’s wondrously idyllic. Unlike all the other islands in these parts, you don’t have to dig deep to find a dose of the real Italy.”

Done! Ischia is 50 minutes from Naples via hydrofoil or 1.5 hours by car ferry. I booked us 4 nights then spent 10 months worrying I made the wrong choice. The photos of the beaches that I found were ok, but we’re from Australia and we’re used to stunning beaches! What if it’s gross? Or boring? It often looked overgrown and the people that go to the island are Italians. What if they don’t want us there? What if we get really sea sick? We’d booked 4 nights there, that’s a fair chunk of our trip on a place we really don’t have any idea about. This trip has been a big deal for us. We saved and saved and saved. Gave up mini holidays and had to be frugal at times in order to make it happen. So I took the planning seriously, we won’t be back here again any time soon. I changed our accommodation and location on the island three times. Even in the final few weeks I was researching alternate ideas to Ischia. It kept me up at night!

The minute we arrived at this particular Naples ferry terminal we were out of our depth. EVERYONE was Italian. Figuring out the ferry tickets was hard enough. While we waited for our ferry, I went to get us a coffee and some pastries from the little cafe in the terminal with Max. We just couldn’t figure out how to order and I got overwhelmed. It was too hard. You seemed to order at one spot and then go to another shop across the way to collect. But it was packed and everyone was speaking loudly in Italian. Which often sounds a lot like people yelling at each other. I froze.

People were just pushing past us and it was a few customers deep at the bar where you get your coffees. I couldn’t do it. Max looked up at me and tried to encourage me on what we could do but I just didn’t have the energy. I also didn’t feel comfortable getting out my translator app, nor did I feel we had time amongst all the chaos. So we walked away. No coffee or food. We returned and Mike understood why I came back empty handed. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay hungry. It’s hard work! But little Max was hungry and he encouraged me again. “Mum let’s go try again, I’ll come with you. It might not be as busy now and we might just ask someone to help”. I get teary as I write it. Here’s my kid who can’t be arsed eating half the time because it’s too much effort, and here he is willing to come with me into the chaos again. How can I say no when my kid asks me to do what I always encourage them to do. “I can do hard things” I hear myself say.

So in we went. We stood back this time and watched other people. They all paid and got receipts then charged to the front and shoved their receipts at the baristas at a different counter. Ok! We went to the first counter and tried to say the food part of the order correctly. We couldn’t. The word we needed was sfogliatella but the label and the pastry cabinet was all the way on the other side of the cafe. Try memorising that word and saying it correctly when under pressure! We said “Nutella” and the man knew what Max wanted. I also ordered two expressos because that’s the easiest to order and I’ll just throw it back like a shot. Ok! That’s done. Now the hard part. To place the order with the barista. We tried to politely line up. It wasn’t working. Salty sea dogs just pushed in front as well as people hurrying for a ferry. And then a lady came along. She spoke fast to us. I always take it as a compliment when they speak in Italian to me. However I couldn’t remember how to say “sorry I can’t speak Italian.” I felt stupid and just said “sorry, English”. I hate when I can’t say the right words. I feel ignorant and arrogant that I expect the rest of the world to know basic English when I don’t know basic Italian. Anyway she smiled at me and then saw what was happening to us. She gestured to look at our receipt and spoke in Italian again. She could see we needed to collect food and coffee. That’s two different counters. She then spoke to Max a trail of Italian words we didn’t know but also “Sfogliatella caldo o freddo?” Max replied “caldo”. Mind blown. We always said Max would survive out in the streets! Here he was thinking fast and remembering a conversation Mike had with him earlier in the trip. He picked up the words he needed. She asked if he wanted a hot or cold pastry. He thought hot might be nice. Insert eye roll.

She barks orders at one of the staff. Or it at least sounds like it. Then to the barista she shouts something else. I just keep repeating gratzie, grazie mille. We try and stay out the way while we wait trying to be as small as possible. I feel like an intruder today. Then the barista looks at me so I try to be brave and gesture could I have it as takeaway espresso. Not an easy thing to act out with hand movements. Not common either, but I thought I’d ask. It was either that or Max was going to join me for Mike’s espresso shot at the bar! He nods “si, zucchero?” I replied “si, zucchero per favore”. Yes, sugar please. I’m doing it! I can do this! I can feel the buzz of being understood. Our order is bundled together and the kind lady says to Max “bye, bye bello” he replies “gratzie, ciao” he rolls his r’s perfectly and we’re off. It was a few minutes of crazy but the kind of thing I don’t forget. Yep, I want to live here in this beautiful country one day before I die. Mark my words.

So we line up to board the car ferry. Everyone who knows me knows I get motion sick really easily. I don’t go to Rottnest or on a cruise for this reason. I also avoid flying in small planes, travelling backwards on a train, going on spinning rides or even swings. The car ferry was big and slow. But apparently smoother. I was nervous which is probably why I was overwhelmed getting the coffees. We sat on the top deck and the journey wasn’t too bad. Albeit bloody hot! We had a few people speak to us in Italian and once again I kicked myself I didn’t know the correct phrases. We explained to the kids that the trip was about to get a bit more tricky in the sense that we were now deep in the “real Italy”. Don’t expect much English.

The trip was ok with only a few bumps. Max and Isla were slightly sicky as well but we made it without spew. Winning. As we arrive at the port we are greeted by a driver we pre arranged. He took us shooting up a volcano (literally) and around the island. First impressions were not great. I was trying not to panic. It was stifling hot, the place was overgrown and a bit crumby looking and the roads were chaos. There seemed to be no rules. Just horns and sharp corners and lots of slamming of the breaks. It’s like Bali but with vespas and 3 wheeled tuk tuks. What the heck have I done? To be continued.