Sunrise Over Corricella

Procida // Italy

By Lauren di Matteo

WRITTEN BY NICOLE BRAVO

Our alarm went off and we groggily began to stir, groping around in thick darkness for our gear. We managed to dress ourselves by the glowing light of our phones, and made it outside in minutes—grateful for the relief found in a balmy morning. The days on the Neapolitan island called Procida had been long and sweltering, and sleep was scarce due to the extreme temperatures last summer. But that morning, we made the conscious decision to get but a few hours of sleep—in search of a sunrise. During our stay in Chiaioloella we took in the sunset every evening, but in order to catch a sunrise on the opposite side of the island, we had to traverse the narrow streets for nearly an hour by moonlight.

The first gleam of daylight offered a growing silhouette of Terrra Murata, a 15th century fortress located at the highest point of the island. Once the historical and cultural center, the ancient city within these outer walls was also built defensively, each home stacked one on top of the other in order to act as a shield against pirates. This is also said to be the place where the Archangel Michael descended in order to protect Procida from Ottoman invaders in 1535. His image appeared in the sky with sword drawn and he made the entire hill appear to be surrounded by a ring of fire. Then he sparked a thunder and lightning storm, and the attackers fled. This event is honored by Procidians with a religious procession every year, even to this day. The silhouette of that mysterious fortress, growing in detail every moment, inspired a deep sense of awe within us long before we knew its history.

We made our descent down scores of steep steps as the sun breathed upon the towering jigsaw of pastel-colored homes on the hillside of Corricella. Marina Corricella is a fishing village dating back to the 17th century, beloved for its unique architecture of arches, terraces, and external stairways. It was this small, polychromatic port that originally caught my attention, and persuaded us to spend a week here on this lesser-known island, rather than the more glamorous Capri.

The port is a reflection of the Procidian people who weather the elements of salt, wind, and storm—all with an inviting, colorful countenance. Like our host—and now friend—Simona, who urged us, “You must come again, in the winter.” She went on to explain about Naples’ beautiful Christmas markets and the handmade presepi Napoletano (Neapolitan nativities) they are known for. Her eyes widened with even more excitement as she described winter on the island. There are a few days every year when the storms become so severe that the seas are too turbulent for boats to cross with passengers or supplies. Locals close their doors, stay inside, and are essentially cutoff from all of civilization. I tried to process such apparent hardship, when Simona’s vibrant eyes pierced through my sympathy with such joie de vivre as she exclaimed, “You must come for that!” We shook our heads in disbelief at her spirit of adventure—and longed to approach life with the same kind of tenacious joy.