Five Days in Ponza

I decided to spend five days in Ponza, intrigued by this island off the coast of Lazio, still far from mass tourism. I wanted to discover its hidden corners, the colors of the sea, its authentic flavors, and the stories of its people. Five days to let myself be surprised, to breathe in the island’s slow rhythm, and to experience Ponza up close, as if I were a local.

Day One

The journey begins in Naples, with the ferry slowly leaving the harbor. The sea grows deeper, and in the distance Ponza appears: a dark profile floating between sky and water.

I chose to stay in Le Forna, the most authentic and least touristy part of the island. Here lies the Sunset Village, my refuge for the days to come. The terrace overlooks Palmarola and the small port of Cala Feola: every evening the sun slides beyond the horizon, painting sunsets that seem unreal. Gianluca, who runs the B&B, welcomes me with the ease of someone who has lived by the sea all his life: a few tips, a smile, and right away I feel at home.

My first taste of Ponza comes at Trattoria Ponzese, one of the island’s oldest, open since 1982. Here I meet Marisa, a lively, smiling woman who seems to know everyone. I order a slice of red pizza with cherry tomatoes, and that simple gesture instantly becomes a daily ritual. Tables set along the alleys, the scent of the oven, and joy spreading like silent music: everything seems designed to take you straight into the heart of the island.

In the afternoon I lose myself among curves and steep climbs on a scooter, the only real way to discover the island. If you want to experience it the same way, you can easily rent your scooter here. Beaches barely exist: Ponza is all rocks, cliffs, and coves that can only be reached by foot or by sea. For lunch I stop at Cala Feola, at La Marina, a small restaurant perched on the rocks. Colorful tables, dishes full of sunshine: parmigiana made with prickly pear stalks, anchovies “alla ponzese,” and a sorbet infused with fresh fruit.
In the evening I climb up to the Chiaia di Luna overlook for sunset. Even though the beach is no longer accessible, it remains one of the most majestic sights on the island. Day one ends with a warm wind carrying me home and the feeling that I’ve just stepped into a new world.

Day Two

The morning begins at Trattoria Ponzese, where the slice of red pizza with cherry tomatoes and a double espresso have now become my daily ritual.
Marisa smiles as she prepares stuffed pizzas and arancini, greeting every passerby. Everyone knows her, the trattoria is the island’s living room.
When she finds a moment to pause, she sits next to me and we start chatting. I tell her what I’m doing in Ponza, which corners I’m discovering, and she opens a window into her life: her days at the trattoria, the dishes she makes, the stories of those who stop by every day. Talking to her slows down time itself. Every gesture and every word intertwines with the island’s authenticity, and I almost wish I could stay there all day.

In the afternoon I head to the Piscine Naturali, natural pools carved into the rocks, with crystal-clear water that begs you to dive in. Here, local boys challenge each other to leap from the highest cliffs, while I swim into a grotto that opens up like a ring of prickly pear against the sky.

For a special snack, just a little further on there’s Bar Nautilus, a café carved into the rock offering bruschette of every kind and good coffee with a sea view.

At sunset I return home. The Sunset Village is more than a B&B, it’s a small world made of simple, authentic details. On one of the terraces, beside the clotheslines swaying in the wind, there’s a garden lovingly cultivated by a local woman. Perched right above the sea, it’s one of the most beautiful gardens I’ve ever seen. I pick cherry tomatoes and fresh basil leaves to prepare my own aperitivo: bread, prosciutto, figs, cheese, and a glass of white wine.The day before I had discovered a small panoramic stone wall in the garden. From there the sun slips slowly behind Palmarola, painting the sea with shades of pink and orange. I decided to bring my plate and glass there, far from bars and restaurants. Just me, the wind, the island falling asleep, and that priceless view. A moment of silence and wonder, Ponza, even in its simplest corners, has a way of turning into poetry.

Day Three

On the third day I decided to experience Ponza from the sea, a completely different perspective. In the harbor, I noticed a white and blue fishing boat, with Guido and Damiano on board, father and son, fishermen in winter and pescaturismo guides in summer.You can book a day at sea with them directly here.

I asked Guido and Damiano to let me live a day on their boat as if I were a local, heading out at dawn and feeling the thrill of fishing. From the sea, Ponza reveals its purest self.

The coast glides by slowly: the Pilate Caves, secret coves, the cliffs of Chiaia di Luna reflected in the crystal-clear water. Then Palmarola, an uninhabited island where palm trees grow (giving it its name) and a few wild goats roam. A small natural miracle suspended in time, echoing memories of when people came here in winter to hunt, and when the island lived off farming, herding, and self-sufficiency.

We reach a quiet inlet and begin fishing for “Perchia”. Guido and Damiano teach me how, and feeling the fish tugging in my hands, with the sea all around and sunlight pouring down, is pure joy. Guido cleans the catch with incredible skill and prepares a fragrant sauce, while Damiano makes bruschette with tomatoes, pickled eggplants, and fresh anchovies.

We eat lunch in one of Palmarola’s most beautiful coves, La Forcina, with slices of watermelon glowing red under the sun, a picture you don’t just see, but breathe in.

The day ends back in Ponza with dinner at La Marina, on the same rocks as my first day. Freshly fried fish, caught just hours earlier, with the waves lapping at our feet. That’s when you know you’ve loved a place, when you feel the urge to return.

Day Four

By the fourth day I already felt a bit like a local, eager to enjoy the island at a slower pace. I started my day with my ritual: double espresso and my slice of red pizza. Then I stopped at Ninetta, a historic shop run by Silveria and her sister, named after their mother Nina, carrying on over a century of family history. There I bought what would become my lunch: fresh buffalo mozzarella, local cheese, and ripe tomatoes. A simple yet special meal, prepared and eaten at “my home,” suspended between land and sea.

In the afternoon I wandered down to the town square, where a small group of men gathers every day at Garden Bar della Salute to play cards: Sansone, Bardascio, and the Guardian of Zannone. Their faces tell stories without words, and every game is played with the same energy and determination as if it were the first, even though they’ve been sitting there for forty years. They welcome me like a granddaughter, letting me observe and even play with them. In the end, whoever wins pays for the aperitivo, a small gesture, full of friendship and tradition.

That evening, at Punta Incenso, another kind of magic. From up there, the panorama embraces both sides: Palmarola on one, the harbor on the other. As the sun sets, it feels like the entire island holds its breath. On this northern tip lies a special place where you can only dine if a local brings you. It’s a rare, almost secret invitation that guards Ponza’s true authenticity. I was lucky enough to experience it, but those who visit will only discover this hidden treasure once they arrive. Sitting at that table, after ringing the good-luck bell three times, is an experience to live more than to tell.

Day Five

On my last day I rented a red Vespa, a cinematic farewell. I retraced the island’s roads, stopping at the places that had left their mark on me. And if you’d like to drive a Vespa yourself, you can rent one here.

First stop, of course, was Trattoria Ponzese. Marisa was cooking linguine with yellow cherry tomatoes and anchovies, side by side with her grandson. She invited me into the kitchen, where the aromas rose from the pots. One last slice of pizza and a coffee became my goodbye ritual, with the promise of returning.

I passed by Chiaia di Luna once more, taking in the island from every possible angle, trying to etch its contours into memory. Then, before boarding the ferry, a brioche with gelato at the port.

That’s how Ponza stays with you: made of encounters, of simple dishes, of sunsets that need no filters. A place that welcomes you and holds onto you. Because once you enter the heart of the ponzesi, you never truly leave.