For starters, we had no idea how old she was. She looked about 80, but moved like 60. She obviously spent every free minute in the sun because she matched my brown leather purse and had tons of wrinkles. She dyed her short hair platinum.
Irena probably had her lips done hours before meeting us because they were swollen and hardly moved. In fact, her mouth never really moved, even when she talked. We had to block out all environmental sounds and strain our ears to decipher what she said. Still, her shiny, Chapstick coated lips memorized me.
Irena jingled whenever she moved thanks to a hundred oversized bracelets, necklaces, and rings. She shoved all of our ferry, bus, and food tickets into a fake Burberry purse that she slung over her shoulder. I loved Irena because I will eventually look just like her if all goes as planned. Ben agreed.
As a New Yorker, I also loved Irena because she did not mess around when it came to getting our group:
1) First in line
2) First to eat
3) Free stuff
4) Shots of limoncello
We had one day on Capri, and she optimized every minute on the island. We definitely got our money's worth. For that reason alone, Ben really loved her.
Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of Irena, but that's okay. I like my memory of her, and I doubt any photo would do her justice. So, to end this post in true Irena fashion, I raise a glass of limoncello to toast the best tour guide ever.
Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of Irena, but that's okay. I like my memory of her, and I doubt any photo would do her justice. So, to end this post in true Irena fashion, I raise a glass of limoncello to toast the best tour guide ever.
Ben waiting to get on the ferry from Sorrento to Capri.
Views of Sorrento from the ferry deck.
Remind me again why we live somewhere made of concrete with cold winters.
Hazy view of Sorrento.
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