“Positano bites deep.” That according to John Steinbeck and certainly seconded by me and my traveling party, only we would apply the phrase to all of the Amalfi Coast. Only home a week now, I have no trouble evoking images of those marvelous Praiano sunrises. Opening the shuttered doors of our hotel room, we delighted each morning to the spectacular scarlet hued transformation of night to day. And at the end of the day, walking just up the hill from our hotel and turning west, we were treated to another solar spectacle. For fleeting minutes, the Praiano sunset lends its striking illumination to the majolica tiled dome of San Genarro, the cayenne rooftops of Positano, and the jagged limestone coastlines of distant Capri.
What I called “Sensory Overloads” were common occurrences on this trip to the Amalfi Coast. Our first morning we were treated to Tosca’s “Puccini” played by a military band on the tiled piazza just outside the church. Being a day the Bishop visited, families gathered at this village church, as aged and stooped little ladies in their sensible black pumps bustled about inside the church, making sure the flowers were placed, the candles were lit, and all was in order for this very important visitor. Outside the band played on and the beautifully dressed grandchildren begged their grandfathers for money to buy a balloon from the balloon man strategically stationed for just such purchases. And just over this seemingly levitating piazza is the beautiful blue of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Not a bad way to start our day and our nine day visit to the Amalfi Coast.
Visiting beautifully ornate churches throughout this area was a history lesson, usually suggesting the wealth of their past. Their vast fishing industry, silk industry, and holiday repose for various emperors, corporate tycoons, and movie stars brought wealth to the villages early on. Mostly today their income seems to come from tourists who revel in the tarnished as well as the natural beauty that abounds.
And there is such great beauty to be found at every turn. As one guidebook says, “The camera almost clicks itself.” The gardens of Villa Cimbrone in Ravello were no exception, and the early morning light and small number of tourists were in our favor. Ravello was only one of our many excursions, but perhaps my favorite. Pompeii was an amazing and enduring testimony to the sophistication of the Roman’s culture and engineering. Collecting the dust on my shoes, I continued to look up to Mount Vesuvius in awe, always wondering of the lure that keeps civilizations building in its dark shadows.
Positano is definitely a vertical experience, as is Capri. We shake our heads in amazement considering what a feat of engineering was accomplished in hollowing out these mountain sides. Lemon studded Amalfi was Italy’s earliest maritime republic and a hub of great eastern trade reflected in the Byzantium architecture of the Duomo of St. Andrea. The piazza in front of this Duomo buzzes with gelato shops, jewelry shops, and the very popular ceramics shops seen throughout this coast.
Lemons, lemons, everywhere-- but not our typical grocery store lemons. No, these baseball sized lemons hang from terraced trees on most any available land, even inside restaurants. They are used in many of the Italian dishes, but their most popular use in this part of Italy is the renowned Limoncello. This after dinner drink is the perfect ending to all our perfect days on this coast!
The thirty mile stretch of exquisite coastline is often hard to enjoy when riding any vehicle that drives on this one and one-half lane coastal highway. Luckily we did not drive this, but left it to the questionable expertise of hired drivers or bus drivers or our hotel shuttle. It is not uncommon for these one and one-half lanes, marked for two cars, to questioningly accommodate two cars, a bus, a motorcycle, and a delivery truck, as well as the car that weaves through all this, determined for what or where I have no idea. All the travel guides print about roadway rage is true, but not our typical American road rage. Italian road rage, while sounding and appearing serious, seems only to be another of their communication tools, just a bit more serious than “Caio!” It’s such a way of life for them, they seemed amused when we appear to be cringing in the back seat. Vincent, our favorite driver, could handle all this and still quote his favorite recipe for Mushroom Risotto and his father’s famous dried fig confection, made for the Christmas holidays.
We soon learned the advantages of hiring a water taxi transport from village to village. Admiring the mountain side terraces, homes and churches from this seaside perspective soon became a preferred way of travel. Not only could we gain new perspective of the villages, but we could come almost close and personal to the huge yachts sailing this sea, watch swimmers dodge the jellyfish abounding in these waters,and visit many of the water caves that put the bright turquoise of this Tyrrhenian Sea to its full advantage. And always we made conversation with these local water taxi skippers, learning a bit of the colorful local lore.
Language never seemed to be a problem even though the local Praiano villagers, especially the older villagers we met on the street, spoke almost no English. The younger folks usually had some command of our English, as did most shop and restaurant owners. Their limited English and our lack of Italian never seemed to impede our respective understandings. Other than mastering the common daily phrases of Buongiorno, Buona sera, Grazie, and Prego, we simply put our English into the marvelous Italian cadence, and everyone seemed happy with that.
Ahhh. . . the food and the wine. What’s not to like, or should I say revere, about the culinary experience of this Campanian region of Italy? In choosing a restaurant we always deferred to Gary, our travel companion of pure Italian descent. Rather than a visit to a restaurant, we always had a dining experience, and by the time we left, we usually had met most of the kitchen staff, the chef, and the entire Italian family who owned the restaurant. Gary charmed them all with his earnestness to know more about their families, their histories, and most of all their culinary skills. Campania is a foodie’s delight with its abundance of the freshest ingredients, especially the tomatoes, basil, and fresh cheeses. Its dishes were always enhanced with the local olive oil, fresh herbs, and lemons. As novices, Doug and I ate many wood fired pizzas and the beloved Caprese salad, but soon warmed to the seafood laden pasta dishes. We ate pasta we had never experienced and came to know the marvelous taste of freshly prepared gnocchi. Being well known for their seafood, the Amalfi Coast treated us to delicious prawns, squid, clams, mussels, and a variety of the day’s catch of fish, often brought to the table on ice, awaiting our selection. Always, this feast for the eyes as well as the stomach, was eaten from the local and colorful Majolica pottery.
And certainly what was not to like about the wine? We drank the local Amalfi area wines with every meal but breakfast. The no-sulfite reds became a favorite, Doug often holding out for the fruitier whites. Of course no wine labels offered a hint as to the grape -- be it chardonnay or merlot, we drank to our heart’s content. And the coffees! From the morning cups drunk in our hotel to the cappuccino I preferred in the afternoon, violating the Italian custom of drinking cappuccino as a breakfast beverage, I loved every cup. Doug, being the ice cream aficionado, sought out more than a few gelato shops, usually enticing us all to join him with the paper umbrella decorated parfaits.
Let me not forget to mention our market experience. Most every afternoon after 5:00 when the market reopened, Gary, Judy, Doug and I walked down to the local grocer, usually to purchase our before dinner appetizers. After Doug and Gary carefully studied the contents of the butcher’s selection of cured meats and cheeses for the day and heard the butcher’s recommendations, the decisions were made. The butcher then proceeded to hand cut our meats while we worked hard not to drool over the glass counter. After our preferences of fruits, wine, olives and breads were made, we climbed back up the hill to enjoy this evening ritual of patio delights, including what ships were sailing the Tyrrhenian that afternoon.
It is difficult to close this memory studded Amalfi Coast experience. Of course we returned with the usual mementos -- a few small rocks and shells stuffed into pockets along our way, a few ceramic pieces carefully packaged for travel, and one bottle of limoncello we’ll probably save forever. The photographs play over and over on the kitchen counter frame, but all the wonderful memories play over and over in our hearts. Arrivederci Amalfi!
