The Agony and the Ecstasy of Amalfi
Today we awake to the brilliant Mediterranean Sea laid out before our eyes from the terrace of our AirBnB high up on a cliff overlooking the coastline. We have found and rented a very reasonable and very pleasant two-bedroom, two-bath apartment with a large terracotta terrace that looks like the perfect summertime place to while away the warm afternoons to the setting sun. Yesterday we spent the day driving down, first to the shore in Anzio and then more inland to make time through the surprisingly mountainous area between Rome and Naples. I don’t remember that many mountains heading south, but there they were in all their snow-clapped glory. We enjoyed a busman’s holiday lunch at the Autogrill to the obvious comment of “why can’t highway rest-stops in the U.S. be that civilized”, which is a fine but rhetorical question. The rest of the way we enjoyed the sights ranging from Mount Vesuvius, still looking potent but dormant to the left, and the Bay of Naples, as shown in all its glory in many a New York Pizzeria, to the right. We sailed past the Herculaneum and then Pompaii exits and were suddenly on the road up over the hillside of the prominent peninsula that defines the Amalfi Coast on the far side. The twisty and cliff-hugging road that is well-remembered by visitors to the Amalfi Coast is very nicely paved, and we fly up the hill, slowing only when an oncoming bus scrapes by with inches to spare on either side.
When we crest the hill, the beauty of the Amalfi Coast is laid bare at our feet and we reverse the winding down the road to the sea somewhere between Ravello and Amalfi, two of the series of villages that dot this coastline. We had stayed on time per the GPS the entire day, but suddenly despite my excellent navigation of these chichaned roads, we started running behind schedule. As we approached the GPS endpoint we began to wonder how we were going to precisely find the rental house given the cliff side similarity of all the homes along the road. Of course, I had to think about all of that while trying to keep the larger than normal for the area, Volvo, on the road and not scraping the sides of either the stone retaining walls or the oncoming cars, trucks and buses. Finally we stopped where the GPS said we were supposed to end and found a wide spot in the road to safely consider our options. The road behind went downhill. The road ahead gave us the choice of left toward the sea cliff or right toward the canyon cliffs. We tried to call our AirBnB contact, but between hillside bad reception and a busy signal, we were frustrated in seeking advice at that moment. So, alla destra (to the right) we went, climbing the hill into the gaping ravine. At one point Kim said she thought she spotted the terrace of the house we were renting, but we sailed by nonetheless, looking for something closer to a sign that would guide our arrival. Finally, at the top of the hill in the small parking area of a local church, we decided it was best to turn around and head back down. As we did so, the locals went about their dog-walking business around us as though this was their normal practice to ignore the tourists and let them discover their own reality.
As we slowly wound our way down the hill we came upon a man and a woman at one outside turn who were waving us down. They were no strangers to the confusion of visiting firemen, so we rolled down the window and we figured out that we had more or less arrived and even turned ourselves in the appropriate direction for parking in the cramped space that they had available for our car. Meanwhile Antonio (the hired porter) and Oswaldo unloaded the car as Kim and Gary looked on and pretended to help. I stayed in the drivers seat since we were still literally in the middle of the road while the house owner, a young woman named Eleanora, directed traffic around us. The locals seem all too familiar with the civility of driving these tight twisty roads. Eleanora directed me into a gated parking area into which I jammed the rented Volvo wagon at an unnatural angle. But the gate closed, so all was well. I could also tell that we were not expected to come in and out of that spot all too often during our stay. That was all the ecstasy of arrival. Now for the agony.
The agony of this lovely coastline resides in the vertical challenge of living here. In this case, that consisted of no less than 50 randomly spaced and measured steps up the hillside with a twisted iron railing designed to scrape ones knuckles if one becomes too dependent on it for support. Luckily, by the time I got to the bottom, I could see up at the top the rest of the gang and the heavy luggage, mostly being carried by Antonio with Oswaldo’s help. I trudged up the steps being sure to trudge slowly so as to leave myself enough steam for what I was sure was a second wind needed to make the final ascent. It’s somewhat as I imagine the trek up Mt. Everest from Camp Four to Camp Five feels like…you just know you have to leave something extra for the final push to the summit. We were accompanied in that final push up the Hilary Step by several of Eleanora’s five cats. Just what I wanted, a forced uphill march attended to by cats. I’m not sure there is a room in Hell better suited to my fears and dislikes.
It seems that Eleanora and her father own the overall property and she has created this smaller AirBnB suite just for this purpose of rental income. They have done a marvelous job and despite the rugged climb, we can see that we have chosen well with a spectacular view from the terrace over the full extent of the craggy coastline. The agony of the climb is eventually (when I catch my breath from the total of 75 steps) worth the ecstasy of the view and the pleasantness of the apartment with its aqua blue seaside floor tiles and trim. The apartment has all the conveniences in the kitchen and with full WiFi. It is basically a lovely sunny terrace with two bedroom suites and a small but efficient kitchen. Everything we would need is there, except for food and beverage, which we are told can be hauled up from the nearby market which is a mere ten minute walk up the hill. After the appropriate oohing and aahing, Oswaldo and Gary decide to venture to the market for breakfast provisions, only to return panting from the climb to announce that it was closed for an hour of repair work. Not to worry, they just went and did the trek again in another hour. Thank God for Gary and Oswaldo and all their regular gym workouts.
We all spent the late afternoon napping and awaiting our 7pm taxi pickup to take us to the restaurant of our choosing wedged into the hillside a few miles away. They too subscribed to the agony and ecstasy program of the Amalfi by giving us another 75 steps to climb before siting to enjoy a lovely meal in another lovely spot. Once again, the ecstasy of the meal and the ambiance were balanced out by the lighter downhill stair climb to get back to taxi territory. What a great evening, but wait, there remains just another 75 steps of agony to get to our ecstatic beds for a well-deserved night of rest in order to prepare for another day of Amalfi agony and ecstasy.