Citara stretches along a gentle cove, its sand coarse and gray-gold, the shoreline dotted with boat ramps and beach clubs whose sunbeds angle toward the afternoon sun. The water here carries a faint thermal signature—pockets of warmth where underground springs seep through cracks in the seafloor. You'll swim through cool patches and then drift into zones that feel almost bath-like, the contrast startling and oddly soothing. The scent of sulfur is subtle but present, mingling with salt air and the herbal notes drifting from the Poseidon Gardens next door.
“The only Ischia beach where volcanic hot springs warm the sea itself, merging swim and spa in a single cove.”
Credit: Unsplasha group of people sitting on a bench in a town
The beach clubs here cater to the thermal crowd—visitors who split their day between the Poseidon's twenty-odd pools and a few hours on the sand. Citara feels more purposeful than purely recreational, a place where people come to soak, restore, unwind. By late afternoon, the beach empties as bathers migrate to the gardens' sunset terraces, leaving only a few diehards stretched on towels and the occasional swimmer tracing slow laps parallel to shore.
Il Fungo anchors the southern end, its wind-sculpted tufa rising improbably from the shallows. Sunset gilds it, turning the weathered stone to amber, the sea around it to hammered bronze. The western exposure means the sun drops straight into the Tyrrhenian, painting the sky in layers—tangerine, rose, indigo. After dark, Forio's lights twinkle along the hillside, and the thermal pools glow an unearthly blue, steam rising into the cooling air.
