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There are places you visit because they are beautiful. And then there are places that somehow make you want to return before you have even left. Surriento belongs to the second category.
Perched dramatically above the Bay of Napoli, on a coastline carved into cliffs and terraces, Surriento seems to have been designed specifically to make human beings stop walking, look at the sea and say: Wow.
And then, almost inevitably, someone starts singing. Torna a Surriento…
Because in Surriento, it is almost impossible not to think of that famous Neapolitan song. But Sorrento is much more than a beautiful view. It is history, music, villas, gardens, cliffs, citrus trees, grand hotels, narrow roads and the Mediterranean in almost every direction. And, in my case, it is also the memory of being hit by a wave of dirty rainwater thrown at us by a luxury car. But let me start at the beginning.
Surriento occupies a spectacular position on the Surriento Peninsula, overlooking the Bay of Napoli. The geography is responsible for much of its character. The town sits on a high plateau above steep cliffs, while the coastline below drops dramatically towards the Tyrrhenian Sea. Roads wind down towards the water, often through slopes and bends that seem to have been designed to test both drivers and passengers. The reward is extraordinary.
From Surriento, the panorama opens towards the Bay of Napoli, Mount Vesuvius and the islands scattered across the horizon. It is one of those landscapes where the sea does not simply form the background. You see it between buildings, beneath terraces, beyond gardens and at the end of streets. And then there are the villas.
Some of Surriento's historic residences and hotels reveal just how long this coastline has attracted wealthy travellers, aristocrats and people looking for somewhere extraordinarily beautiful to live or spend their holidays. Surriento became an important destination during the era of the Grand Tour, when European aristocrats, artists and intellectuals travelled through Italy in search of classical culture, landscapes and inspiration. It is not difficult to understand why they stopped here.
Even today, you can look at the view and understand immediately. And then there are the lemons. Huge Surriento lemons. They seem almost ridiculously large compared with the lemons you normally find elsewhere. Citrus cultivation has been deeply connected with the landscape and economy of the Sorrento Peninsula for centuries, and the local lemon has become one of the symbols of the area. You find lemons in gardens, markets, restaurants, desserts, drinks and, of course, limoncello. Sorrento doesn't merely grow lemons. It has turned the lemon into part of its identity. And somehow, against that blue Mediterranean background, everything tastes even more intensely Mediterranean.
Among Surriento's historic hotels, the Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria occupies a particularly fascinating place. The hotel was founded in 1834 and has remained in the hands of the Fiorentino family for five generations. Over its long history, it welcomed an extraordinary list of guests, including artists, politicians, royalty and musicians. One of them was Errico Caruso. The great Italian tenor stayed at the hotel, and his connection with Sorrento became part of the hotel's history. Today, the hotel even has a suite bearing his name. And this is where Surriento and music become almost inseparable. Because once you are surrounded by that landscape, it is very difficult not to understand why someone would write a song asking Surriento to come back.
Torna a Surriento means 'Come back to Sorrento'. The song was written by the brothers Ernesto and Giambattista De Curtis, and became one of the most famous songs of the Neapolitan tradition. It was subsequently performed by some of the greatest voices of the twentieth century, including Enrico Caruso.
There is a fascinating story surrounding its creation and the visit of Italian Prime Minister Giuseppe Zanardelli to Sorrento in 1902. The song became associated with the hope that the politician would help improve the town's infrastructure and return to enjoy its beauty. The precise history of the song's composition is more complicated than the popular legend suggests, but its connection with Surriento became permanent.
And honestly? You don't need to know any of that to understand the song. You only have to stand in Surriento. Look at the cliffs. Look at the sea. Look at Vesuvius in the distance. Listen to the voices around you. And suddenly the title makes perfect sense. Come back to Surriento. The funny thing is that Surriento doesn't really need to ask. You are already thinking about coming back.
I have visited Surriento twice. The first time, the region was experiencing a heatwave. Not the pleasant Mediterranean kind of warmth. The other kind. The kind that makes you feel as though the air itself has forgotten how to move. It was suffocating. The second time, I returned with Claire Fontaine, a friend who accompanies The Grandma on many of her travels. And Surriento had apparently decided that one weather extreme was not enough. We were hit by one of those extraordinary August thunderstorms that arrive suddenly and make you feel as if the sky is collapsing on top of you. One minute everything was fine. The next minute, the heavens opened. We had absolutely nothing to protect ourselves from the rain. No umbrellas. No raincoats. Nothing. We were walking down one of those winding roads that descend towards the sea, trying to avoid puddles and, more importantly, trying not to fall. And then we saw it. A shelter. Four metres away. We were almost saved. Almost. At precisely that moment, a high-end car came down the road. It skidded right in front of us. And the tyres sent an enormous wave of water -more than a metre high, or at least that is how it felt- straight over us. We were completely soaked. And dirty. The car stopped. For one glorious second, I thought the driver might actually apologise. Instead, he reversed. He looked at us. He laughed. And drove away. I have never forgotten that face. Or that car. Or the feeling of standing there, drenched from head to toe, looking at each other and wondering whether to laugh or commit a crime. So now, whenever I hear Torna a Surriento, there is a small part of my brain that remembers the magnificent cliffs, the Mediterranean, the lemons, the villas and the beautiful Surriento...
...and another part that remembers that idiot in the expensive car.
Perhaps this is what travelling really is. Beautiful landscapes mixed with completely ridiculous memories. And yet, I would go back tomorrow. That is the strange thing about Surriento. Even after the heatwave. Even after the thunderstorm. Even after being hit by a metre-high wall of dirty water. I would return. Tomorrow. Without hesitation. Because Surriento has something that photographs cannot quite capture. It is not only the cliffs. It is not only the villas. It is not only the gardens or the lemons. It is the feeling of being somewhere suspended between land and sea, between history and the present, between the enormous landscape of the Bay of Napoli and the tiny details of everyday Mediterranean life. It is the sound of a song that has been asking people to return for more than a century. It is the smell of citrus. The colour of the sea. The impossible roads. The gardens hanging above the cliffs. The memory of Caruso. The sound of Neapolitan voices. And, sometimes, an August storm that arrives without warning. Surriento is not perfect. Perhaps that is precisely why I love it. Because the places we remember most vividly are rarely the ones where everything went according to plan.
They are the places where something happened. Something unexpected. Something ridiculous. Something beautiful. Something that stays with you. And Surriento stayed with me. I haven't even finished writing this, and I already want to go back. Torna a Surriento. Come back to Surriento. I think I will.
More information: Errico Caruso, Neapolitan Language in Opera
Non darme sto tormiento
Torna a Surriento
Famme campà.
But do not leave me,
Do not cause me this torment;
Return to Sorrento,
Let me live.
Ernesto and Giambattista De Curtis
