The Amalfi Coast

It had only been a few days, but we were both completely enamoured with this part of the world.

There was an indescribable mood to this entire region.  I don't quite know how to describe it, but there was this intoxicating mix of extravagance, beauty (both natural and man-made), simplicity of lifestyle and joy.  Maybe it was this confused mix that was what made it so enjoyable?  There wasn't any particular trait which stood out, but all of it seemed to blend together well.  The happiness of the crowds and tourists was particularly lovely to be around.  Everyone was in such a joyous mood, it was infectious.  Wherever we walked, you just felt like you were walking through a strange idealised version of life.

In the mornings, we woke up and looked out from our balcony at the famous "pyramid" of Positano.  The large windows directly in front of our bed faced out towards this iconic view, and opening my eyes to the room bathed in a golden light with that perfect view felt like a waking dream.  Each day, the sky was perfectly clear and there was never even a hint of rain for our entire trip.  We would sit on the balcony and look out into the distance, just enjoying one another's company as well as the vibrant colours of the buildings.

With the time we had, we did some gentle exploring up and down the coast.  The ferries to and from Positano were frequent and nothing seemed to be very far.  The town of Amalfi was only half an hour away, so it didn't even take a day trip to go and visit.  Other people seemed to take to the winding roads, but this seemed to be a bit of a waste for me.  The coastline of this region was what I wanted to experience the most, and there was simply no better vantage point than from the ocean looking in.

In Amalfi, we did as the tourists did.

We walked up the main street, we ate granitas, sat in the restaurants and watched the enormous throngs of visitors pass by.

At the very heart of it all was the famous cathedral.  Even by Italian cathedral standards it was old, but it had a unique appearance that reminded me of the old Byzantine churches I had visited as a backpacker all those years ago.  The colours and the repeating patterns seemed far more Greek than Italian.

Inside the cathedral was as ornate and gilded as you would expect in any Italian cathedral, but again there was an style to everything that made it all seem that touch bit older than what I had become used to seeing in other parts of Italy.  It appeared more delicate and further removed, leaning more towards the Middle Ages than the renaissance. 

We walked further into Amalfi and saw the main street narrow as it reached the top.  Drivers slowed to a crawl as the tourists swarmed around them.  We seemed to be funneled from both the sides and above, with small archways reaching out across the street between the buildings.  There were parallel covered streets that stretched alongside this main street, each with small shops full of tourist gifts and knickknacks.

Outside of the town itself, we wandered further up to get a better glimpse of the famous stretch of beach.  The walk up was slightly treacherous, with the sidewalk disappearing and tourists braving the racing cars to stand at the corner of the road which provided the perfect panoramic view across the beach.

Within the town itself, there were locations off of the main street which opened up to idyllic visions of village life in Amalfi.  In a small square, less than five minutes walk from the front of the main cathedral, there was a quiet spot to look out to the ocean completely uninterrupted by any other visitors.  I was amazed that this location was so hidden and peaceful, but it's a recurring theme I've noticed over the years.  Tourists will generally stick to the main and heavily frequented areas, and these very short walks to the side can often reveal untouched locations like this.

Back in Positano, we embraced and enjoyed the perfect life.  There was nothing negative about the experience.  Even the stairs up and down the various parts of the town felt fun as we moved around from place to place.  At the beach clubs, we lay back and looked out at the clear waters.  We swam in the cool waters, lay on the chairs to warm ourselves and repeated this over and over again.  We drank granitas, read books, and enjoyed one another's company.

On our final evening, I arranged a special dinner for us.

A minivan came and picked us up in front of our hotel along with others who were heading to the same restaurant.  The minibus climbed high up in the hills overlooking Positano.  It went into the winding roads that seemed to narrow the higher we went.  Finally, we stopped in front of wooden gates, which opened up into the restaurant.  This wasn't just any simple restaurant though.  It was set in a farm perched on the cliffs directly above Positano.  We had seen many unbelievably beautiful views during this visit to the Amalfi coast, but it seemed like this may have been the best one of all.

We walked down a set of stone stairs and into the restaurant.  Inside, there was an enormous hearth that one of the chefs was grilling meats over.  We were led to our table, but we got up almost immediately to go and look at the farm.

The farm sat underneath the restaurant and was full of animals, fruits and vegetables.  We walked through, petting the animals and looking out at the views in the distance.  It was nice to be surrounded by the farm.  We had both dressed up for dinner, and it felt surreal to be in such a rural surrounding in our more refined attire.  Others were also walking around, enjoying the opportunity to see this working farm in the middle of this idyllic tourist location.  It was something that was an important part of this part of the world, the fact that the land was still so fertile and in use.  It made it all feel so real a 

Back inside the restaurant, even with the open verandah, the smell of food filled the room.  We had no choice of food or drink.  Everything at this restaurant was decided by the owners.  When one of the waiters brought us our first enormous plate of vegetables and stewed beans, I asked him why they took this approach.  He happily explained to me that they wanted to serve us all what they liked to eat, not just what the tourists "wanted".  In a tourist location like this, they thought that the food choices available were changing.  Restaurants were only serving what the tourists "wanted", which at times wasn't local and didn't embrace the produce available in the region.  Instead, they wanted to serve to us what they ate, the types of food and dishes that people normally didn't order or know about but which had been keeping them nourished in their homes.  What they served felt more homely and authentic.  The simply cooked vegetables, the stewed beans, these weren't fancy or expensive looking dishes.  But they tasted of the ingredients.  The beans in particular I loved.  Cooked in fat, they were moreish and satisfying.  The waiter was right as well, something as basic as stewed beans wasn't something I could imagine people ordering regularly in this part of the world. 

As the sun eventually set, the views outside changed as well.

Looking outside, Positano was now bright in the distance.  It shone out clearly amongst the dark hills and the ocean.  The weather cooled and we could feel the breeze from the ocean.  The waiter brought us another bottle of wine which they made themselves on the farm.  It wasn't the finest of wines, but it was memorable.  Drinking the fruits of this land, eating the home grown vegetables, looking out towards the horizon.  There was no where else I wanted to be.

I had never been to a place which had completely taken me in so much.  This place had every warning sign to me about being a potential tourist trap, and it had still given me an experience that I didn't think I could ever shake.  The Amalfi coast exists as this perfect location, this dream of a location for tourists around the world, and it is a deserved reputation.  Steinbeck said that Positano bites deep.  It had certainly done so for me and more.  This place had burrowed itself deep inside my heart and mind.  I think any place I go to will now always be always be compared to this from now on.