Just as eating pizza and watching the world stroll by in Rome was exactly as I’d imagined, Positano was the Amalfi Coast in my mind I’d saved to daydream about when I was stuck in traffic, or listening to a customer whinge about the mundane dramas of working in Toys’R’Us. It was perfect, brought to life by the constant hum of ferries and chatter of families by the beach.
The guidebooks however, failed to mention the scenic Amalfi Coast drive would feel more like a rollercoaster driven by a mad Italian, and that I would spend more time staring straight ahead trying not to throw up, with someone else’s baby on my lap who was throwing up, than admiring the view. But I do have friends who would kill to be careening around those narrow coastal curves at the speed of locals in Italian sportcars, so I tried to appreciate the ride, if only for their sakes. And despite not seeing any Italian sportscars (sorry boys).
Positano is the town sitting between it’s older sibling (older as in busloads of post-menopausal women) Sorrento, and its more exotic-sounding rival, Amalfi. And once I had dumped by bags at my beautifully quaint terraced hostel overlooking the ocean, and wandered the narrow alleys of clothes shops, cafes, art galleries and gelaterias, I never wanted to leave.
The one road, which wound down the side of the mountain, was connected at various points by seemingly endless flights of stone steps – a snakes and ladders game that was easier to glide down than climb up, and the beach, once I’d found it (having walked into a few open front doors inadvertantly on the way) was pebbly with black sand which dissappeared into clear, turquoise water.
I had every intention of spending only a day exploring Positano, with day trips to Amalfi, Sorrento and the island of Capri, I really did. But it was sunny and hot, and there was a beach with deck chairs waiting. So I spent three days laying on a beach, drinking cappuccinos and wandering through insanely expensive boutiques I could never afford to shop in. In a word, bliss. In a few more words, bliss with slight sunburn and sore calves from walking up all those goddamn steps.
-Sarah
Sarah