English lords owned historic villas and spent their holidays there. It is by no means unknown in fact, it is very famous. It is an ancient town, high on a mountain overlooking the stupendous Gulf of Salerno, surrounded by chestnut woods and cooled by singing brooks. Years ago I used to spend my summers in Ravello. Italy is the snows of the Alps, the parching heat of Sicily, the mysterious Mafia, Fellini and Mastroianni, picturesque poverty, picturesque new wealth, archaic crafts, robot-run modern factories - but above all, its people: friendly, shrewd, good-humored and resigned to the worst. The enumeration could continue ad infinitum. You can find there singular art masterpieces, an uncanny sense of liberation from dull constrictions and boredom, childishly simple but excellent food, good wines, worldfamous landscapes celebrated by poets, a pagan country where many of the beautiful laughing girls have, as the French say, ''la cuisse legere,'' and the headquarters of the Roman Catholic Church, the sacred land of St. There is, to begin with, an ultramodern country, ahead of many others in fashion, design, architecture and racing cars there is also a very old one, thousands of years old, where the past is still alive, rich with experience, enchantment and skepticism. There are no apparent limits to the Italys available. There is therefore almost no point in giving them any advice or illustrating the multiform possibilities of the voyage. Veteran foreign travelers usually bring their own Italy with them they stubbornly see, taste, experience and remember uniquely the country of their wishes.
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