As our ferry from Capri approached Positano we marveled at the hillside strewn with buildings at all angles and the beaches dotted with umbrellas of all colors. There wasn’t a sliver above the water that wasn’t covered in houses, apartments, or stairs.
We stepped foot back on the mainland and took a second to take it all in before we googled how to get to our hotel in the hills. A mere 700 meters away and not accessible by taxi we had no choice but to walk, but we didn’t mind. At least at first. The path meandered along the coast to a secluded beach before making a hard turn up the hill. It felt like a thousand steps and a million drops of sweat before we reached the front door. I huffed and puffed and wiped the sweat out of my eyes as we checked in.
We’d already spent all day in the sun on Capri and didn’t have much daylight left after checking in so I jogged up the hill to the nearest pizzeria for dinner. I hustled back to Olena with two full pizza boxes and a bottle of wine for a sunset picnic looking out over Positano’s harbor. After some limoncello from Capri to top it all off we had no problem hitting the sack as soon as the sun dipped under the horizon.
Before breakfast on the terrace the next morning we slipped out of our room and down the ‘thousand’ steps to the water. No tourists were in town for the day, yet, other than us. We shared the water with a few old men and the fishermen getting their boats ready. Before long hunger drew us back up the steps despite the pristine water. After a few rolls and an espresso to top up the fuel tank we went right back down to the rocky beach for another day of sun and swimming.
Unfortunately, the good vibes didn’t stop the clock from ticking so before long we had to make our way to the bus stop to catch our ride to Sorrento. We hiked up the hill and made it to the bus stop in time for the last bus to Sorrento and settled in to wait for our 5:45 bus.
5:45 came and went and I started to stress but Olena reminded me that we were in Italy. Things are always late. I pushed down my anxiety for another five minutes. And then ten more. And then finally at 6:15 I looked at her in despair.
With no alternative I popped into a cafe and asked them when the bus might be arriving. In perfect English the woman behind the counter explained to me that a wildfire on the road between Positano and Amalfi was wreaking havoc on the bus route but busses were still coming. Supposedly. As we waited for the phantom bus to appear we started making tourist friends who also wondered what to do. We decided we’d grab a taxi to Sorrento together. €100 doesn’t hurt so bad when you split it six ways, afterall.
But then the bus rounded the corner. Olena and I fought to the front of the line to ensure a spot on the packed bus and made our way to the last two seats in the back row. For the next hour and a half we listened to three loud Scots talk about which is better, Ayahuasca or shrooms, as the huge bus barreled along the narrow coastal road. Hundreds of feet above the ocean. Olena and I stared straight ahead and focused on taking deep breaths so we wouldn’t throw up. After what felt like a lifetime on the bus we piled off in Sorrento, happy to have made it in one piece. But our journey still wasn’t over.
We had to walk 2 kilometers along Sorrento’s narrow streets with our bags. And it was beginning to rain. We made it to the hotel without even a drop hitting us, but as soon as we went back outside for dinner the lightning lit up the night sky around us and the rain began to dump. It took all of two minutes running to the nearest restaurant for us to be soaked through by the summer deluge. Our Italian waiter looked at us incredulously as we told him our order, soaking wet, but luckily served us anyway.
Sorrento was meant to be our relaxing location but we started off the next day with an 11 kilometer walk along the cliffs of Sorrento. We kept an eye on Mount Vesuvius across the bay and looked down at the busy beaches below, lined with row after row of lounge chairs and umbrellas to provide respite from the burning sun. By lunch time we were gassed and the hotel pool was all we were interested in for the rest of the day.
Until sunset, that is. Not one to miss a photograph I dragged Olena to the cliffs looking out over the ocean. Camera in one hand and cup in the other, I alternated taking photos and sipping wine while we watched the blazing red sun peak in and out of the clouds all the way down to the horizon.
On our final day in Italy we made the trek from Sorrento back to Rome for our flight back to Berlin. With half a day in Rome we made sure to take in all the biggest sights, even if we had both seen them before. We stopped by the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon, then walked up the Spanish Steps with hardly a soul in sight.
Over dinner that night we looked back at the past week as if it was some fever dream. We were completely incredulous. I won’t say each city was more beautiful than the next because Capri takes the prize for looks; but each town was so unique and vibrant that I would never tire of exploring. Apparently Olena had the same thought.
“Where are we going next,” Olena asked, before she’d even finished her pasta.
