What language is spoken in Sorrento?

The waiter on Via San Cesareo will speak Italian to you, while the fishermen mending nets at Marina Grande switch to Neapolitan the moment they turn back to each other. Neapolitan swallows its final vowels, so 'grazie assaje' (thanks a lot) comes out close to GRAHT-syeh ah-SIGH. The town's own name becomes Surriento, the word in the De Curtis brothers' song 'Torna a Surriento', and some evenings a mandolin player near Piazza Tasso plays it at least twice before the tables order dessert. You do not need to speak any Neapolitan in Sorrento, but knowing it exists helps: a family trattoria in Sant'Agnello might list 'friarielli' (bitter greens fried with garlic and chilli, smoky and a little sharp) with no Italian translation beside it.

English is stronger here than in Naples, especially in the triangle formed by Piazza Tasso, Corso Italia and the Marina Piccola ferry port. British travellers have filled the cliff-top hotels since the 19th century, which means the front desk at the Excelsior Vittoria and most limoncello shops on Via San Cesareo will answer in English before you finish 'buongiorno'. It falls away in three places. The first is the ticket window at Sorrento's Circumvesuviana station, where clerks tend to sell in Italian while a summer queue presses behind you. The second is the SITA bus to Positano and Amalfi, where drivers often refuse to sell tickets on board, so buy one at a tabaccheria on Corso Italia first. The third is the bakeries and fruit stalls of Piano di Sorrento and Meta, one or two stops east, where shopkeepers over 60 rarely speak English.

The words that save first-timers the most trouble are place names. Circumvesuviana signs say 'Pompei Scavi Villa dei Misteri', with one i, and Herculaneum is 'Ercolano Scavi'. Say 'un biglietto per Ercolano Scavi' at the window and you get the right ticket in under a minute. Ancient Stabiae sits inside Castellammare di Stabia, and Oplontis is signed for Torre Annunziata. At the Marina Piccola hydrofoil kiosks the Blue Grotto is 'Grotta Azzurra', and that is the name that appears on Capri boat-tour boards. Use 'permesso' (excuse me, may I pass) on the train. In August the carriages to Naples are standing-room only and smell of sunscreen and hot brakes, and Neapolitans step aside for 'permesso' but ignore a mumbled 'sorry'.

Most menu worries in Sorrento come down to four phrases. 'Coperto' on the bill is a legal per-person cover charge, usually €2 to €3 in town, and it is not a scam. 'Alla sorrentina' means baked with tomato, fior di latte and basil, and gnocchi alla sorrentina arrive bubbling in a terracotta dish with stretchy, scalding cheese, so give them two minutes. 'Delizia al limone' is a sponge dome soaked in cold lemon cream, created in Sorrento by pastry chef Carmine Marzuillo in 1978. Then there is 'il conto, per favore'. No Sorrento restaurant brings the bill until you ask, and that is good manners, not slow service. Skip the stiff 'signore' and 'signora' that phrasebooks push. Locals switch from 'buongiorno' to 'buonasera' at around 4pm, well before sunset.