This is the second installment of a travelogue by retired English teacher/librarian Marguerite Kirkpatrick of Russellville. She traveled with one
of her daughters, Shannon Reade, and Shannon’s family-husband Wes, daughter Maggie, son Will and his girlfriend, Megan Gough. Will is a senior at
the University of South Carolina on an ROTC Navy scholarship. Megan is from Stafford, Va. and is a junior at USC, on a Marine ROTC scholarship.
Maggie Reade is a senior at Merrol Hyde Magnet School in Hendersonville, Tenn.
Sunday, May 29
A free day. That is to say there are no plans for a grueling effort at being tourists, no trains, no buses, no hauling luggage. We sip coffee on the
terrace. Will and Megan walk to the beach. Shannon, Wes, and Maggie walk to the village to buy fresh fish for supper and pastries for breakfast. I
simply enjoy soaking up the beauty that surrounds me. Faint sounds drift up the hillside: birds chirping, doves cooing, roosters crowing, chickens
clucking, and the far-off “toot toot” of the Sita bus on the Amalfi Drive far below.
Midmorning we walk to the beach and pay 18 euros for the rental of three beach chairs. We sun and read and swim in the very cold and crystal clear
blue-green waters of the Mediterranean. For lunch we discover Bar Mare, tucked under a towering cliff with outdoor seating overlooking tiny Marina di
Praiano. We meet the owner Salvatore, with twinkling eyes and a hug for everyone, and his mother, the cook. Salvatore’s favorite expression is, “Mama
makes it.” After much joking and friendly banter, as well as plates of Mama’s homemade pasta, Salvatore plies us with free desserts, lemoncello, and
lots of attention. In fact, we all become Facebook friends, and he allows Maggie and Will access to his internet connection.
Too soon the afternoon wanes, and we face the long trek back up the hill. On the way we visit the 800-year-old stone tower that guards the promontory
and once served as a lookout for pirates. Now it is a studio for Paulo, an artist, who invites us in to see his art and explore the tower. Paulo is a
painter and sculptor, and many of his subjects are citizens of Praiano. Other works are whimsical and funny. What a delightful experience! As we leave,
Paulo’s two goats come loping up the hill, looking for a handout.
Monday, May 30
“Everybody up. We have to see the sunrise!” announces Shannon in the predawn light. She has already made coffee and brings me a steaming cup in the
bedroom we share. Soon everyone gathers on the terrace to see an amazing sunrise. Even Megan joins us, though she tells us later she only got up to
answer nature’s call but was seen by Shannon and so had no recourse. By 8 a.m. we are walking down to the bus stop for our day of touring, but alas, we
miss the bus by a few minutes, so we have a two-hour wait; however, it is far from boring. We are disappointed to find the Bar (coffee shop) is closed
because today is a holiday so there will be no cappuccino and pastries, but we find a little grocery, buy cherries, and settle down to watch the wild
traffic on the Amalfi Drive.
Crazy! Once there is a huge traffic jam: two big tour buses, a garbage truck and some cars come to a halt. No one can move. One driver jumps out.
Yells. Gestures. Vehicles inch forward. Inch back. He yells some more. More inching. Finally the jam is cleared. Intermittently two donkeys led by two
men come up from the sea below, loaded with building supplies. They cross the road, lumber on up the hill, then return for another load. This procedure
is repeated several times as we wait. Will, Maggie, and Megan have fun bartering with a man trying to sell his services and his van as a tour guide for
the day. Our team wins. Finally the bus arrives, and we board for standing room only.
A thirty-minute ride takes us to Amalfi. This particular stretch of the Amalfi Drive is even more beautiful than anything we have seen yet, and more
treacherous! Several large villas and resorts can be seen hovering on the hillside below as we careen around the curves. Will that three-foot stone
wall keep us from toppling into the sea?
Amalfi seems to be a stopping point for tour buses, for there are dozens in the large piazza where we disembark. Many bear the logos of cruise lines.
We soon board another bus to climb the mountainous road to Ravello, standing of course, and clinging to whatever handhold we can grasp. The mantra of
Italian bus drivers seems to be, “Pick up as many passengers as possible, never refuse anyone a ride, drive as fast as possible.” One switchback
follows another as we corkscrew up the mountain. There is evidence of farming along this route, all accomplished in neat terraces. Lemon trees, olive
trees, and other crops provide varying shades of green against a brilliant blue sky.
Ravello is a welcome surprise after the bustling chaos of Amalfi. The center of town is a small shady piazza surrounded by very old buildings and the
town cathedral or Duomo. Founded in 1086, the Duomo contains traces of medieval frescos. A short walk down narrow cobblestone streets takes us to Cumpo
Cosimo, a 300-year-old cantina owned by the same family for 75 years. Netta, one of the members of that family, has been cooking here for 60 years. We
have read that she comes out to greet all of her guests and soon learn the truth of this claim. Not only does she greet us, she also employs hearty
hugs and cheek pinching to prove how happy she is to see us.
The food is exceptional, a salad made with the freshest ingredients and the lightest of dressings and Netta’s delicious homemade pasta. She spies me
giving Will some of the spaghetti that I am unable to finish and worries that he is still hungry. Soon she appears with another plate of ravioli for
Will. Wes compliments the tomatoes; she presents him with a second big plate of tomatoes with that delicate herbal dressing. Delizioso!
After lunch we amble around the town, shop, drop some money at the Italian pottery store, enjoy the view of the terraced valley falling to the sea far
below, watch Will snoozing on a concrete bench in the piazza (too much ravioli), visit the Duomo, and stroll the gardens of Villa Cimbrone, a
magnificent estate built by Lord Grimthorpe, designer of Big Ben’s casement. Though the gardens and flowers and statuary and views are beautiful, the
most stunning area is the Belvedere of Infinity, a grand stone parapet adorned with a long row of gleaming white marble busts gazing inland as visitors
gaze past them and out to the sparkling azure Bay of Salerno.
Late in the afternoon four of our group decide to hike down the mountain. Maggie and I-the smart ones-opt for the bus. Back in Amalfi there is time for
more shopping and exploration of the cobblestone streets of the old town. We grab a gelato just before the bus arrives. Of course, there’s standing
room only, and Wes spends the next thirty minutes alternately dripping gelato on the man sitting in front of him, accidentally slamming the lady behind
him with his backpack, and trying to maintain his balance on the harrowing ride to Praiano. Later we are regaled with stories of the hike down the
mountain-of lemon groves and olive trees and a goat herder trying to coax his charges past a horse on the path, of goats hopping over the wall to
escape the horse, of the goat herder and the horseman in a heated “discussion,” and finally of a little dog left behind as the goats eventually scurry
past the horse.
Back in Praiano we hurry to La Brace, a simple little ristorante above a simple storefront. We settle in front of windows that open to the sea and feel
like Italians dining at 9:00 o’clock. Soon different kinds of pizza arrive at our table, all baked in wood fire ovens, all wonderful. My choice is
Margherita, made with buffalo mozzarella. What is buffalo mozzarella? Cheese made with buffalo milk, of course!! After dinner, we walk up, up, up the
hill to home.
Tuesday, May 31
An early morning walk back down the hill, stopping at Tut Tuttie’s for cherries, leads us again to the bus stop. Soon we are on our way to Positano,
“the only place in the world conceived on a vertical rather than a horizontal axis.” It is easy to see why this charming town is the “most photographed
fishing village in the world.” Much larger than Praiano, it has a bustling harbor and many shops arranged along cobblestone streets that slope to the
sea. The arbor-covered walkway leading to the harbor is adorned with the ubiquitous bougainvillea; pink and purple and red blossoms spill over walls
and climb shop fronts as well. Jasmine is another prolific climber that lends its sweet fragrance to many passageways.
A water taxi takes us to the Isle of Capri where we meet Paulo, our young captain, and board our chartered boat for a cruise around the island. First
stop is the Grotto Azzurra. Several people on other boats await turns on the little rowboats manned by standing oarsmen who row to each vessel and take
no more than four passengers. We six are divided into two rowboats, and soon we are gliding into the magical grotto lit by an eerie blue light caused
by a refraction of the sun through the underwater arch. It is fairly dark inside the cave except for the neon glow of blue, but the oarsmen bob about
in their little boats singing “Volare” with nary a bump. I decide that Italians are fast and fearless and possessed of uncanny driving and boat
maneuvering skills!
Next stop, the green grotto. This time we are alone, and the grotto is more an arch in the rock than a cave. Paulo instructs us to jump into the water
and swim to the other side of the arch where he will meet us with the boat. Do what??? I’m more than a little hesitant, but the crystal turquoise water
gives me courage. After all, I have two personal lifeguards! Some of our group snorkel until Paulo calls us into the boat because of the abundance of
jellyfish. At our next stop, however, Will suffers a jellyfish sting, so that ends the swimming for the day.
Paulo points out many interesting sights as we cruise around the island, including the coral grotto and the cliff where legend holds that Emperor
Tiberius tossed off slaves and women when he was tired of them. We cruise past the Siren’s Rock, made famous in Homer’s Odyssey. Paulo manages
to guide our boat inside several small grottos and through impossibly narrow passageways with great ease. For refreshment he offers the adults white
wine with fresh peach slices, and there are plenty of soft drinks and snacks.
A late-afternoon water taxi returns us to Positano, where we wait with a huge crowd for the six o’clock bus. Everyone jostles for position to board. We
six hang onto each other so we do not get separated. Of course we are standing as we careen around the mountainside, but the driver continues to stop
and allow more people to cram onto the bus.
Back in Praiano, we stop at Tut Tuttie’s for fresh veggies. Supper is warmed-over pizza from last night and a colorful salad, dressed as the Italians
do with olive oil and balsamic. Sitting on our terrace with the lights of the bay twinkling below us, we count our blessings for a most wonderful and
amazing day.
To be continued….