What a pair of stacks, if you're only going for selfies!

"But do you have to go there? If you must, at least avoid the piazzetta. Everything is so expensive, you can't believe how much they charge for a spritz with two peanuts. And forget about Via Camerelle, you can't even walk from the crowds. And then what do you care, it's not like it used to be, there are only jewellers and luxury boutiques. Don't take the funicular, a banger. Better a taxi to the port. But can't you go next year, in winter or maybe in spring? Not at Easter though, which is taken by storm. What an idea, to go just now. With all the places there are. I say the islands. Why don't you go to the Faroes? Or Sylt, the one with the rich Germans? You know they also do longevity treatments? You could try it'. Francesco Maria Colombo goes to Sylt and longevity treatments don't interest me. I'd like to prolong youth, not old age. In the Faroe Islands it rains, it's cold and there are mosquitoes too. Besides,' I say to my friend, 'you've been going there all your life and you spend the summer there.So why can't I go to Capri instead?

Here then. Go to Capri, and write about it. But how? According to the above-mentioned friend, it is vital to abide by the Rules of Survival Against Mass Tourism of the radical chic, who abhor crowds and do everything possible to discourage those who approach the places they go. Rule number 1. Avoid the places that make Capri Capri, such as the Faraglioni, the Grotta Azzurra and Punta Tragara. Rule number 2. Throw into the conversation that Capri was better before without specifying how much earlier, whether in Tiberius's time, Krupp's time, or Guido Lembo's time who made people dance and sing on the tables at Anema e Core. Rule number 3. Go out very little, bury yourself in the house and hardly ever set foot outside.

Or. Immerse yourself in the masses, sinking into that noisy, sweaty river of tourists thronging the Molo Beverello in Naples, in Bermuda shorts, caps, flip-flops, prams, backpacks, trolleys, water bottles, lots of water bottles. Getting on the hydrofoil, where after a few minutes the temperature will turn polar because in the heat the rough sea can be felt more. And laughing with the Australians, the Indians, the Brazilians, the Germans who laugh and laugh when the sailor of the ferry company does his funny show in English to sell gadgets with the Capri Brand before you have even set foot on the island.

Being happy is an attitude, almost a talent, says Yasmina Reza, and in that magma of people who are about to see for the first time a place they have heard a lot about, there is something that has a lot to do with happiness. There are places that disappoint, Capri never. There is this psychosomatic illness, the Paris syndrome, which is apparently a transitory psychological disorder experienced by some people visiting Paris for the first time - particularly Japanese tourists - who 'shocked by the gap between reality and their idealised vision of the city find themselves disillusioned and destabilised'. Now, I am not aware of any disillusioned and destabilised Japanese tourists dining at Paolino's because the lemon arbour was not exactly as they had imagined it.

Disembarking from the hydrofoil at Marina Grande, the human magma reaches the funicular railway station and then - crammed into the carriages - is carried up to the piazzetta where everyone passes but no one stops. From there, the crowd disperses among souvenir shops and luxury brands, queues up at the Buonocore ice-cream parlour to eat a freshly made waffle, and swarms towards Punta Tragara to take the only real reason for a holiday on Capri: theselfie in front of the Faraglioni.