The farthest south I ever got in Italy was Pompeii: Spectacular, but grimy and hot. All I could think of was the just-out-of-reach Capri, with its azure waters, its Talented Mr. Ripley élan. Years later, it’s still all I can think of. So I spritz on the blue, wildly refreshing Arancia di Capri and instantly feel less grimy, more hot.