Positano
Yesterday we “did” the Amalfi Coast. Kim arranged a tour guide who drove over from Naples to drive us (technically, a guy named Renato did the driving) around the winding roads of the coast. After five minutes of the drive I realized that I was the real beneficiary of this choice, since driving and looking simultaneously is a high-risk maneuver, which i could thankfully forego. We start by heading to Ravello to the south, passing Scala as we go. Scala is the first village to get built on these hills and it is reached from the sea by a 5,000 step stone staircase. That makes our 75 steps from the road to our apartment seem like a cakewalk. Can you imagine ending a long day of fishing with a 5,000 step jaunt home for dinner? I’m sure it worked up an appetite. When I asked the obvious question of why, I was told the obvious answer that it was for defense against marauding pirates. You bet a pirate would think twice before attacking a village 5,000 steps uphill from his pirate ship.
Ravello is a small, but pretty, village with spectacular hillside views in every direction. I’m not entirely sure what makes its location more strategic than that of Scala other than that it is a bit higher on an adjoining hill. There is always a reason for everything in history, so I imagine it may have been a “keeping up with the Jones-type thing” or just the fact that one family faction decided they didn’t like the other faction, so they wanted even more steps between them back in the day. Ravello seems to have won the battle in the long run since it now gets the roads and the concomitant tourists to support it while the Scala folks are left to either slog their way back and forth to their fishing boats or farm the steep hillsides for sustenance. History is a bitch of a taskmaster.
The next stop is the actual village of Amalfi. It has a lovely church at its center (not exactly unique for the hill towns of Italy, but lovely nonetheless). This village obviously cared less about defense from pirates or else pirates were in abeyance by the time it was founded, since it is directly on the sea. It certainly prospered because it was not only the first Kingdom in this area, but also got the entire coastline named after it. I take up my usual position sitting on the sunny steps while Kim, Gary and Oswaldo explore the commercial side of Amalfi by climbing the streets that are lined with every variety of store known to touristic Italy. I am told that they got to taste a dozen varieties of Limoncello, which is not only the local drink of choice, but also the best sales loosening tool the local shopkeepers could think of. I find the church steps a wonder of people watching as I observe the repeated filming of some sort of commercial wherein a beautiful Italian lass bursts from a hotel room onto its Juliet balcony to embrace the day in her white sundress while the photographers on the next balcony click away.
From Amalfi we drive northeast towards Positano, but Veronica, the tour guide, who as done a good job of annoying the hell out of Gary already, continuously debates whether we should lunch in Positano or Sorrento or Hong Kong for that matter. She seems decidedly undecided about the itinerary for some reason. She claims its because her usual restaurant haunts are all closed since it is before the season. At one point she suggests we return once the season has properly begun, but that doesn’t get too far as a suggestion with Gary, who has taken to mumbling profanities from the back seat of the van. We settle on Positano by confirming that we will hire her for another day tomorrow to see Pompeii and Sorrento.
When we arrive in Positano, it appears this village has combined the best of both Amalfi Coast worlds. It is situated on the sea and still manages to climb the surrounding hillsides like a mountain goat. My hill-climbing-avoidance radar starts beeping as Renato pulls into a mid-level garage to park the van and we disembark for a walk down the village streets where shopping is in vast supply. I figure that maybe if we’re lucky there is a way for Renato to pick us up down below (spoiler alert…that just ain’t gonna happen). So we start our walk downhill with the recognition that every step down will likely be accompanied by a step up later in the day. But alas, there is nowhere else to go but down, so down we go. When we get close to the bottom, Veronica carries through with her concern about the early part of the season and the fact that the restaurants at the beach might be closed. She asks a local man she recognizes who is several flights below us. He yells up in Italian that “they are all fucking open, you twit!” or some such competitive tour guide insult. Veronica, who has still not recognized that I speak some Italian, tells me there should be something open below even though it is before the start of the season.
When we get to the beach, we have a choice of….every restaurant on the beach…and Veronica insists that we do the choosing. The one we pick, which is the nearest with tablecloths she promptly tells us is the best one, so good on us. Veronica and Renato do not assume to join us, but we insist and they promptly order a pizza apiece as though they had expected same. The lunch was actually quite lovely as the sunshine on the beach helped to erase the memories of the cold wind on the hillside we had experienced the night before. THe walk back up the hill was done in leisurely fashion, which allowed me to beat all the shoppers back to the bus. It was good thing as well, since the garage bathroom provided a much-needed respite from what might have been a very long ride home otherwise.
Renato and Veronica dropped us off at the base of our 75-step entrance with the promise that we would see one another the next morning in Pompeii. Veronica had mentioned a story about some tourist who couldn’t comprehend that there was an advantage to buying their tickets to Pompeii through her. She seemed surprised that that prompted me to ask if we too should purchase our Pompeii tickets through her rather than pay more on the spot. Imagine that.
We had enjoyed our afternoon in Positano, but not less than we enjoy our siesta every afternoon for a few hours before heading off to dinner. Travel to Italy seems always to be about getting from meal to meal with as little stair-walking as possible and as much napping as possible. We seem to be maximizing both on this trip, which all balances out quite nicely. The routine is now breakfast by Oswaldo followed by bouncing down the stairs to the waiting taxi, slogging around whatever ruins we are to see that day until we can justify lunch in some sunny spot, followed by a ride home, a trudge up the stairs, a nap, a bounce down the stairs, a fine dining experience wherever there is a table available (Americans eat first, and then the Italians…for half the price I am sure) and back for one final climb of the steps to bed. Another day, another town or two. Tomorrow…Pompeii, the town that Vesuvius made famous.