Procida is a feeling, a casket of beauty. The island is no Cinderella, nor is she a princess, she is the island of ‘Graziella’, of the ‘Postino’, of ‘Arturo’, but above all is a place where free spirits can find their true creative selves.
Procida has volcanic origins and four distinct craters remain as evidence, one forming the smaller island of Vivara, today separated from Procida by a small bridge and canal.
Viewed from above Procida’s irregular shape gives the impression of a smashed polyp, its tentacles spreading out in all directions, forming five points and five bays.
Procida ‘la bassa’, as named by Savino; the island is only 91 metres at its highest point.
‘Termitiera formicolante’ (Tingly anthouse), as defined by Cesare Brandi, almost 11,000 residents live on 4 kilometres of land.
Procida is therefore one of the most crowded ‘communes’ in Europe.

Procida remains steeped in history, yet loyal to its past. Morante describes the island well in this piece: “My island has little roads closed and solitary within its ancient walls, between fruit trees and vines, they seem imperial gardens. It has various beaches, of clear and delicate sand, and little pools, covered with pebbles and shells, in between larger rocks.
In these hidden rock pools one can seagulls resting as well as wild turtledoves.
There, on quiet days, the sea is tender and fresh; it sits on the riva like dew.
Ah… I wouldn’t ask to be a seagull, or a dolphin, I’d be content as a ‘scorfano’, the ugliest fish in the sea, to find myself down there, to play in those waters….”