Sunset fishing in Sorrento

And an attempt to buy anchovies off some old Italian fishermen.

I love visiting coastal towns during the winter months. There’s a gritty intimacy you can find while the warm sand-seeking folks are elsewhere. Especially in Sorrento, a place that I can only imagine is mobbed by tourists in the summer.

On a cold December evening, I was out walking around the Marina Grande neighborhood. The sun was setting and Mount Vesuvius was looming off in the distance while boats were coming into the marina. The only folks around were me, a few old crusty fishermen, and some opportunistic seagulls looking for an evening catch.

One of the men was off to the side, gently lowering his fishing pole towards the water. He was coyly hiding behind some tarp-covered gear, trying to avoid scaring off the fish swarming below.

There were two other men nearby gutting and cleaning their haul. They were grizzled, wearing tattered clothes and rubber boots, their hands bloodied from the sardine guts. I walked up and asked, in very, very rough Italian, if I could take some pictures. One of them looked up, offered a reluctant smile, and nodded.

After a few rushed photos, I asked him if I could buy some anchovies. He didn’t quite understand my question at first, probably caught a bit off guard. I apologized and asked if he spoke English. He shook his head no, so I hurriedly pulled out my phone and opened Google Translate. I tried once more, simultaneously showing him the phone screen.

He turned to the other man and exchanged a few gruff sentences, followed by what looked like a nod in agreement. He grabbed a plastic bag and made some hand gestures towards me, ostensibly asking how many I wanted. I awkwardly nodded and gestured back. He turned around and reached his hands into a big bucket of small fish, scooped them in the bag, and handed it to me.

I pulled out some cash and asked how much it cost, the one phrase I could confidently muster up in my broken Italian. He shook his head and waved his hands, refusing the money. I tried again but he still shook his head no, this time giving me smile and a shy thumbs up. I thanked him and proudly walked away with my bag of anchovies in hand.

Back at the Airbnb, Steph and her parents were very suspect of my find. But I was undeterred and scavenged the cupboard to see what I was working with. We had some eggs, oatmeal, olive oil, salt, and pepper - enough for an improvised light pan fry. So I got to work, getting my own hands bloodied with fish guts.