Islands and movies seem to go together, both providing compact self-contained escapes from the real world around us. Il Postino (The Postman) is a perfect example. A charming movie inspired by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda's exile during the Pinochet dictatorship, it was filmed on Procida, a tiny, undeveloped fishing island that stood in for nearby overdeveloped Capri in Italy's Bay of Naples.

The movie explores the relationship between Neruda and Mario, the uneducated islander who delivers mail to his isolated villa. A delightful fable, it perfectly matches Procida itself. The island remains a small, sleepy fishing community with the relaxed way of life pictured in the film.

You won't find any McDonald's or KFC's here. The people still shop in tiny specialty stores that close during siesta. One sells fish, one produce, one wine. Complete to the burping motorbikes and aging cars, the island could be living in the '50's. And though filmmakers doctor reality, scenes from the movie pop into view as you wander about the island, including the bluffs, the tiny fishing village and the beach. No one seemed impressed by the movie, however, unlike the citizens of Madison County who seem anxious to wring every dollar out of their covered bridges' fame.

I felt Procida's magic myself when I visited in April, arriving by hydrofoil from Naples at the island's small port, where fisherman unload their catches among quiet trattorias along the quay.

Needing a place to stay, I learned that the hotel allegedly open all year was closed, as was the tourist office, but a cab driver promised to find me a place to stay. I got into his cab, and endured a terrifying ride through medieval streets so narrow pedestrians ducked into doorways as we rushed by.

Halfway down the 2-mile-long island, the cab lurched to a stop at an archway leading to a long, overgrown driveway. This was El Dorado, my home for the night.

El Dorado was a villa that contained a small restaurant, many dogs and cats, hundreds of parakeets and an extended family of Italians. It might have been the only place on the island open that early in the season, but I never knew for sure.

I found the owners in the restaurant. They showed me a large room containing four beds and a surprisingly modern bath.

Checking in was simple: I put my bags in the room. There was no key, no formalities, and no request for advance payment. The family was friendly, treating me like the guest in their home I was.

I wandered through the large orchard and gardens of the villa, ending at a bluff with a spectacular view of Procida's concave coast as well as Capri and the Amalfi Peninsula 20 miles away. The garden's fruit trees, immature vegetable plants and vines undoubtedly supplied the restaurant in season, but it was too early for most to be ripe.

After the tour of the villa, I started to explore, walking east along cliffs hundreds of feet above the sea. Soon, I was looking down on Corricella, a minute fishing port guarded by a fort on the citadel of Terra Murata high above.

Descending many steps to the port, I watched fishermen working on their boats and nets. They undoubtedly wondered why I was there, but were friendly and helped me find the steep steps up the hill as I continued my trip.

Then I passed the small church of San Rocco, and the Piazza dei Martiri where Bourbons executed 12 Procidese in 1790 for plotting rebellion. As I continued my walk, I climbed to Terra Murata, which contains the 1563 Castello d'Aragona and the roofless Santa Margherita Nuova church, built in 1586 and now sitting bleakly on a cliff overlooking the sea. Nearby is an unusual three-domed church, San Michele Arcangelo, where workmen were loading statues for the upcoming Good Friday procession.

From there, I headed downhill to the port, walking through the narrow streets crowded with local people; few tourists visit the island, especially off season. Procida's stores line the streets, but when they close for siesta, the island seems a ghost town.

After touring the port and enjoying a beer, I returned to my hotel to relax before I went to dinner. It was fortunate that I had arranged it earlier, for El Dorado wasn't open for dinner off season. Nevertheless, the lady of the house served excellent spaghetti fruitti del mare as a first course, followed by pesce fritture.

The spaghetti sauce was simple oil and garlic mixed with freshly steamed mussels and clams and their broth. The main course was delicate fried whole fish and calamari. It came with home-made bread, an artichoke and a ripe tomato salad plus local white wine.

Fruit and cheese for dessert also came with the meal, but I was too full to enjoy them, much to the hostess' concern.

After that meal, I staggered back to my room, tried to read, but quickly went to sleep. It was cold that night in sharp contrast to the warm days, but blankets kept me comfortable.

The next morning, I had a roll and coffee, wishing I spoke Italian since the people were friendly, especially after they learned that I was from California, their image of El Dorado (the golden one).

Continuing my walk to the west end of Procida, I entered the picturesque (aren't they all?) fishing port of Chiaiolella, which contained some cafes and closed beach bars and restaurants. A few hundred off shore is a wild-life preserve on an islet called Vivara joined to the "big" island by a foot bridge. Its gate was locked, so I headed back, walking along the southern cliff to the hotel. There are buses and taxis, but the island is so small that walking seems more practical as well as more fun.

Later, when I was ready to leave the island, I walked the short distance to the port to await the ferry. I had lunch in a small restaurant where I ate tiny artichokes in an assertive garlic-olive-oil-wine sauce followed by broiled fish that probably had been swimming shortly before.

There was no sign of Pablo Neruda, of course, but the island reflects the peaceful, isolated life shown in Il Postino. It's well worth a visit to see this life before Procida succumbs to the same fate as nearby Ischia and Capri.

Getting to Procida

It's a short ferry ride from Naples, either by hydrofoil from the upscale port of Mergellina or by ferry from the big terminal downtown at Molo Beverello. Cost was about $5 each way. The boats generally stop first at Ischia.

Where to stay and eat

Many people will just visit for the day, perhaps from hectic Capri or Ischia. There aren't many places to stay on the island. The pensione El Dorado charged $40 per night including breakfast and dinner. Hotels on the island include the Savoia and the Rivera. None are expensive. The trattorias are modest and homey, like the island itself, but serve excellent food - after all, they have to depend on local customers!

A great web site on Pricida: http://www.procida.it