Bucko's World

Monday 17th

I think we all dream of having loads of money, nice cars, and to top it all, a massive house somewhere swanky.  If you are a billionaire, you probably have all that, so the only way of being one up on your peers is to have a load of expensive shit – and simply never use it.  Welcome, my friends, to the story of Naples bay and the nicest houses you will ever see.  Houses that cost multi-million dollars.  Houses that are, basically, unoccupied……

After our drive yesterday - and cheesecake and pinot grigio-fest on the balcony last night - we decide to have a lie in for the morning, followed by a leisurely boat trip cruising round the Bay of Naples for the afternoon.  We’ll get to soak up some culture, soak up some sun, and see how the other half, (actually the other 0.00014%) live. 

We arrive nice and early for the boat trip, pick some nice seats upstairs with a good view.  This is all lovely until the boat is invaded by a large group of Hasidic Jews who seem oblivious to everyone else on the boat, take over every spare seat and proceed to talk at the top of their voices to each other irrespective of who might be in the way.  Their inability to sit still and listen to what is going on begs the question “why get on the boat I the first place?”  We’re so overwhelmed by them that Lisa checks downstairs to see if there are any seats free down there.  Nope, full of the other half of the family.  However, we bide our time and when one girl - dressed in ankle long skirt, headscarf and chunky knit jumper, perfect for the weather – walks her child up the isle for the 61^st time we slip out of our seats and head back to where she had been sitting minutes earlier.  Job done.

The ride that follows proves to be mind boggling.  The numbers meaningless after a while.  We’re shown house after house fronting on to the bay that is owned by this or that billionaire, cost 15, 20, 30 million dollars, and has a yacht outside that cost more than the average lottery win.  Then there’s the “art” in their gardens.  $250,000 for a Swigging Swine, made out of recycled champagne bottles in one garden, $350,000 for a gaily painted alligator in another.  “Slightly different” coloured palm trees (like there’s a shortage in Florida!!) imported from Madagascar and costing a cool $6,000 each.  Add to this Olympic sized pools, perfectly manicured lawns and tropical gardens that put Kew to shame and obviously you’d think this is the perfect place to live.  Well, the people who own them don’t seem to think so.  Only 12% of the properties are occupied all year round, with the other 88% occupied for just two to four weeks of the year.  Incomprehensible.  Over a third of America’s billionaires own property here, one can only assume they’re too busy to visit. 

The best story we’re told on the ride was of a neighbourly dispute over an extension one of them built on their house.  The guys next door, who had been resident in his property since the ‘50s, took umbrage when said extension spoilt his view. Revenge was to be sweet.  He got the decorators in and painted his entire house as a Halloween pumpkin.  Three weeks later his neighbours paid him $11 million to move out.  Three DAYS after that the site had been levelled, landscaped and turfed, and bore nothing more on it than a single volleyball net.  To this day, no one has ever seen anyone playing volleyball there.

We’re brought back to reality once back from the trip when we decide to pick up some lunch and end up at the Tin City area of Naples, an area so opposite on first sight to the rest of the city that you can’t really believe it hasn’t be bulldozed down to make room for more volleyball nets.  But dig deeper and it’s just that shabby chic raising its head again.  The little shops are all posh boutiques, and the restaurants all top notch with mouth watering fare and eye watering prices.  And the vibe right down on the bay front is good.

We lunch and the really shabby chic Riverwalk Restaurant, where any thoughts of this being a genuinely shabby place are swept immediately away by the separate Bloody Mary Bar (you can mix your own one!) and the presence of several different champagnes on the wine list.  Fish is definitely becoming the default order so a blackened grouper sandwich is ordered.  It is gorgeous with a coleslaw and Cuban black beans and rice which would have been a meal on their own.  Lisa has the fish tacos with chipotle aioli which are to die for.   So good, we decide to head back here for dinner later.

We head back to the hotel to for a chill out and a couple of cold ones before heading out again, and I’m struck once more by how nice the hotel is.  The lift that arrives to take us up to our floor is all stylish brushed aluminium, recessed and illuminated knobs and a clever little window so people can see in if it gets jammed.  Or this is what you think until you step into the thing, at which, point it’s nagging resemblance to another metal box with such appointments becomes blindingly obvious.  Because it feels like we’ve stepped into an oven.  Peering out the little window gives me the peculiar sensation of knowing how a Christmas turkey must feel; well, if it was still alive when you put it in.  In the one floor to our stop, the sweat is dripping down your back and the panic that you could boil to death in here in a few minutes if the lift broke down is palpable.  Fortunately, this does not happen and we’re soon in the air conditioned luxury of our condo with a couple of Sams to replace the fluids lost in the oven lift.

Our second visit today to the Riverwalk of the day is as good as the first.  Excellent food and wine, sun setting over the bay, and not so humid that sitting outside is uncomfortable.  We go for the special which is flounder served in a coconut butter sauce with shrimps, mash and lovely baby asparagus.  Devine.  At least for a little while we can all live like the other half; we just couldn’t do it for very long here!