So in April we set out for Sorrento, a seaside town in the southern region of Campania, with high hearts and sensible shoes. Our original reason for choosing Sorrento was that it is a mere 24km (15 miles) from Pompeii, long a desired destination of my boyfriend’s — I’ll get in the joke about him obviously being partial to old ruins before you can — but as it turned out, it was a treat in itself.

I was pleased as Punch when I found out that Nietzsche and Wagner had had a famous row in Sorrento, that Maxim Gorky had lived there for some time and that Ibsen wrote a bit of Peer Gynt there; as a hardcore philistine myself, I am always tickled when I get the chance to walk in the fey footsteps of the arty with the least possible work. Obviously Sorrento was going to be such a breeze, the sort of place where even lounging by a pool or drinking blue cocktails in a café would immediately thrust me into the maelstrom narrative of 18th-century European culture.

I liked the Hotel Bel Air, too, and if you can arrive at a place in torrential rain wearing unsuitable clothing and still say “Ooo! Isn’t this lovely!” then it must be doing something right. Like Sorrento itself there was something out-of-time about it. I like slick, state-of-the-art hotels in cities, but coastal cribs often benefit from just a touch of time-warp eccentricity, recalling the cranky seaside B&Bs of childhood. For instance, the sign by the pool read, under the YOU MUST heading, “Get A Bonnet”, and under YOU MUSTN’T, “Draw Animals”. These were obviously entreaties to wear a swimming cap and not feed birds, but how charmingly put.

The location helped a lot. Built right into a cliff — from the street, you enter a little glass ante-room containing only an elevator and a pair of agreeable stone horses, then go down in the lift to reception — the Bel Air looks out over the Bay of Naples, “one of the most enchanting and suggestive sceneries,” according to the hotel information, with “private descent leading down to the sea”.

If every place has a time which suited it perfectly and in which to some extent it stays (New York in the late 1950s, California in the late 1960s, London in the 1980s), then southern Italy generally resides in the early 1960s, the age of local pop, jazz and film festivals designed to tempt the world’s eye away from the flashier attractions of Rome and Venice. And everyone rides scooters. Lying by the pool, which hung right out over the bay, in perfect sunshine the day after the downpour, hearing the church bells ring 11 o’clock down in the town, with yearning Italian pop on the radio, it seemed a perfect holiday moment — a timeless, civilised pleasure taken at ease.

I was starting to have seriously corny thoughts along the lines of “Ah, this is the beginning of my love affair with Italy!” So we went down into the town in search of a reality bite and found instead an absolute delight, built around the Piazza Tasso (Torquato Tasso, local poet hero, born 1544), and a pleasing mix of souvenir shops and small businesses which could have been there since Tasso was a tyke.

I like a blend of tat and trad in a seaside town. There was a wine bar/wine shop/delicatessen called The Garden at 50 Corsa Italia, where you could sit by the window and have a civilised glass of a local wine which translates as Tears of Christ (not as depressing as it sounds), while people bought olive oil at the counter.

I could see the appeal of this. It occurred to me that places such as these are exactly why I’m against the idea of one big samey Europe; I want to go to different countries and be delighted by the difference, as opposed to finding the same bland, uniform Euro-portion from Godalming to Gdansk.

Feeling patriotic, we found The English Inn a few doors down and sat beneath posters for Beamish Stout and Bulldog Strong Ale, reflecting how appropriate Sorrento seems, above all. It is very much a town, with none of the bovine malice of the countryside or seething loathing of the city; a town so exactly the right size, with exactly the right number of people, that it’s hard to believe it’s organic, that it wasn’t worked out with calculator and graph paper. It reminded me of Torquay — and from me, that’s the highest praise.

The words over the shops sounded like girls’ names — Pasteria, Gelateria, Frutta — and there were lemons everywhere; overhanging the pavements from groves right there on the street, in huge fantastic window displays of lemon preserve, lemon chocolate, the local liqueur Limoncello and just about anything you can make with a lemon and an open mind. The crest of the Hotel Bel Air looks grand and arrogant until you look closer and see that instead of being surrounded by unicorns and muskets it has a whole bunch of lemons hanging off it.

Seductive as Sorrento is, it is also attractive for being just a hop, skip and a splash away from Positano, Capri and Ischia; inland, Naples is the local airport. But it was Pompeii we were interested in, half an hour away by car. On the way there, I tried to remember what I’d learnt about the place at school — but all I could come up with was the theme song of the 1970s sitcom Up Pompeii!, as sung by and starring Frankie How erd.

The lightness with which the Italians wear their country’s astonishing wealth of culture and history really comes home to you when you go to Pompeii and see the groups of chattering local children there on school trips; you could tell they had seen it all before.

I can’t think that anything could have prepared me for Pompeii; a whole town, a ghost town since August 24 AD79 — which wasn’t buried under lava from Vesuvius at all, as it turns out, but by tiny stones and ash from the only volcano still “active” in Europe. If you’re used to hands-off, glass-case history, it comes as a shock to be able to wander in and out of people’s houses and sit on their seats in the amphitheatre. And to fully comprehend how this “civilisation” was built on slavery.

Slavery is behind everything in Pompeii — behind every gorgeous fresco, every elegant mosaic; the ghost in the machine, the flowers in the trash, the mourner at the wedding. One minute you’re exclaiming in delight: “Oh, they were just like us,” as you examine the bollards put up by disgruntled town elders to stop the boy chariot-racers from doing their reckless thing; the next you’re staring at the life-size re- creation of a dying slave, naked but for a belt bearing the name of his “owner”.

How sweet it was to go back to Sorrento, where the business is and was and ever will be sea and sunshine and vineyards and lemons, all used for the mutual benefit of town and tourist both.

And coming home, I found I still believed — relatively — in the myth of the Blessed Italian; because, among all the other reasons, they are the only people who can even make talking on a mobile phone seem sexy, sassy and life-affirming; “Ciao, bella — si, pronto!” “Once we were Romans — now we are Italians!” mourns a snooty miserabilist in a Muriel Spark novel. But having seen what remains of Pompeii, compared with the ceaseless, sunny survival of Sorrento, I’d say we got the best deal.

Need to know

Getting there: Julie Burchill travelled with Kirker Holidays (0870 1123333, http://www.kirkerholidays.com/), which offers three nights’ accommodation with breakfast at the Hotel Bel Air in Sorrento from £572 per person. The price, based on two sharing a room with sea view, includes return flights with British Airways from Gatwick to Naples and private car transfers. Regional airport departures available on request.

Getting around: The Circumvesuviana railway (http://www.vesuviana.it/) runs between Naples and Sorrento, with stops for Pompeii and Herculaneum. Fares about £1.30.

Reading: Naples, Capri, Sorrento & the Amalfi Coast (Time Out, £11.99).

Page 2: Prosecco production by Sarah Woodward
Page 3: Italian wine tours by Robin Young

Prosecco

By Sarah Woodward

Prosecco may be best known as the main ingredient in a Bellini, but there is more to the sparkling wine than just an alcoholic mixer. Produced from vines clinging to the steep foothills of the Dolomites, it has been the drink of choice at Venice's February carnival for 400 years and was widely used a gift (and a bribe) for visiting ambassadors. These days it is enjoying new popularity in America, but few American tourists stray from nearby Venice to explore the region that produces it.

The vineyards lie about an hour's drive from Treviso, still suprisingly untouched by tourism. In Valdobbiadene, centre of prosecco production, there are barely any signs of visitors - indeed it can be hard even to get a drink. Although the town is surrounded by vineyards, the idea of tasting for casual visitors has still largely to catch on. One winery, run by the Bisol family, is branching out; offering vineyard tours and tastings, and in the process of converting an old farmhouse on their property into an upmarket B&B.

The family have been producing wines since the 16th century, and over lunch Gianluca Bisol explained that historically the area was not just the Venetian's vineyard, but also the area where they built their holiday homes. "The Venetians have always regarded this area as their secret wine cellar," he told me, "but they also came for the cool summer air and in the winter for their fuel." Its easy to see why; this is an area of extraordinary natural beauty, stacked full of villas; beautiful examples of Palladian architecture, houses that once belonged to artists and writers such as Robert Browning.

Bisol also offer the chance to blend your own cuvée, preceded by a lunch to familiarise yourself with the different prosecco tastes. The Gigetto restaurant, in neighbouring Miane, is owned by a serious wine-collector (with cellar to match). Different proseccos are offered with different courses; one to match cheese made with the bitter radicchio for which Treviso is famous, another to complement the sopresa, a cured sausage, and yet another to help down the veal with vast mushrooms. I was suprised when the waiter popped the cork and promptly poured the prosecco into a tall iced jug, but apparently the idea is to reduce the bubbles so the wine accompanies the food without creating indigestion. Occasionally the wine was overwhelmed by the food, but in most cases it stood its ground well.

After a much-needed digestif of grappa di prosecco, it was time to attempt the blending. Bisol's main philosophy is to make wines from single vineyard grapes, but they do allow the odd bit of mix and match. I found myself with four wines, three from the classic prosecco grape and another flask of chardonnay. My challenge was to make a blend by deciding in what percentages they should be combined before going back into the bottle for a secondary fermentation. Winemaker Horatio del Canton was kind but fair; he described my personal cuvee as "unusual". I had learnt my lesson; prosecco can be a complex wine.

Need to know

Ryanair (0871 2460000, http://www.ryanair.com/) flies from London Stansted to Treviso from £41 including taxes. From Treviso it is approximately one hour's drive to the hills of Prosecco.

The Bisol winery (00 39 0423 900138, http://www.bisol.it/) offers a two-hour tour, with tastings, from £15pp; lunch at da Gigetto followed by the chance to blend your own cuvee costs from £43pp, for a minimum of four people.
The Hotel Villa Abbazia (0438 971277, http://www.hotelabbazia.it/) has rooms from £136; a cheaper option is the newly opened Hotel Vecchio Municipio (0432 975414, http://www.hotelvecchiomunicipio.com/) on the outskirts of Valdobbiadene, with doubles from £52.

Page 2: Prosecco by Sarah Woodward
Page 3: Italian wine tours by Robin Young

Italian wine tours

By Robin Young

Italian "agriturismo" provides plenty of opportunities for holidaying, or even working, amid the vineyards. Many estates welcoming guests in all of Italy's wine producing regions are partly, or sometimes largely, occupied in wine production, and not a few will welcome even an unskilled hand when vineyard work is at its height.

Be warned, though. Tending vines and picking grapes, especially on steeply sloping hillsides under a hot sun, is sweaty, dirty, knee-straining, back-bending business.

You can stay in eight quality, self-catering apartments at Fattoria Iesolana, peacefully located amid the Chianti vineyards. Fattoria Iesolana is a working farm and wine and olive estate in the southern Chianti hills between Siena and Arezzo. The enthusiastic owner, Giovanni Toscano, makes a typically robust Chianti Classico, as well as a soft Trebbiano white, a rich Riserva, and his own grappa and sweet Vin Santo.

There are apartments mostly in the main farmhouse building with up to three bedrooms and sleeping up to eight. There is a large outdoor pool, and Signor Toscano will fully understand if visitors prefer to laze there rather than trying to help with pruning, weeding or harvesting.

Another estate able to receive visitors is the Fonte de' Medici, owned by the Antinori family who have been big in the wine business for 600 years and supply some of Italy's finest and most dependable labels.

Fonte de' Medici is in the heart of Chianti country between Florence (where the Antinori palazzo at the end of Via de' Tornabuoni houses an excellent winebar-cum-restaurant) and accommodates up to 88 guests in three clusters of restored farmhouses and cottages.

Tours of the Antinori wine cellars, including the flagship Tignanello estate, are tailored to suit the guests, trying to ensure that wine novices are not mixed with connoisseurs and experts.

More hands on experience is offered by InSicily, a tour operator organising wine and grape harvest tours in the island that the Greeks called Enotria, the land of wine. Giovanni Matta of InSicily recommends June and October as the best months to book for connoisseurs who want to linger in the wineries. In the latter month visitors can taste the year's novello. But he also organises a grape harvest tour from mid-August to the end of September for those who actually want to work.

In Piedmont the Cooperativa Cornale in the village of Magliano Alfieri, between the Langhe and Monferrato, is rather contemptuous of much of Italy's agriturismo, and promises a more down to earth approach than the "folk-fiction land" which the co-op farmers claim is "becoming a large touristic Disneyland".

Their day tours of wineries include tastings of local cheeses, oils, honeys and other homegrown, organic produce including specialities such as red onions and pears. Several of the co-op's farming members rent out rooms for those who want to stay, with rooms available for up to 50 visitors at a time.

Need to know

Inntravel (01653 629000, http://www.inntravel.co.uk/) has a week at the Fattoria Iesolana from £498pp, including flights and car hire.

Fonte de Medici (0039 055 8244700, http://www.fontedemedici.com/).
InSicily (0039 338 2507644, http://www.insicily.com/).

Cooperativa Cornale (0039 0173 66669, http://www.cornale.it/).

Reading: Books on Italian wines recommended by Times Wine Correspondent, Jane MacQuitty are Barolo to Valpolicella by Nicolas Belfrage (Mitchell Beazley, £14.99), Brunello to Zubibbo, Wines of Tuscany, Central and Southern Italy, by Nicolas Belfrage (Mitchell Beazley, £20), Wines of Italy, by Burton Anderson (Mitchell Beazley, £9.99).
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