Positano

What a day! This place really is magnificent, and for the first time in the trip it feels like vacation. We woke up this morning and had breakfast on the terrace. We could see Positano in the distance, a little preview to the day. An older woman was having breakfast alone near us. She'd had dinner by herself last night, and was talking with a British woman about her friend: "She doesn't like to get up early. She sleeps till 11, maybe 12 o'clock. But look at this!" she said, gesturing out to the bay. I can't imagine being on a trip with someone on such a different schedule. Then again, Ryan and Brianne can probably imagine--they went to Europe with me!

We finished breakfast and waited on the orange bus to Positano. The trains run on time. The buses here on the coast do not. The orange bus arrived finally when the SITA bus was scheduled, so we thought what the heck, it's here. We packed on like sardines and thought we caught a deal from the bus driver. He only charged us one Euro per ticket, instead of two. Turns out we just misheard him the first time.

I took a little video of a bus ride here on the coast. I'll have to try and figure out if there's a way to show it to you all. Leave a comment if you know. Basically it's break-neck: the roads are tiny, the curves sharp, and traffic goes both ways on a road wide enough for one. The bus drivers are artists, gracefully sweeping their large rear ends along. Two little honks around a curve warn the other direction, come at risk of death. Did I mention there's basically a 500 foot drop into the sea on one side?

The views are worth it, though. I've never seen anything like it. The closest I've come is a ride out on the California coast line with Brianne, Jackie and Brodie on Highway 1. Maui also comes to mind. This is different in that you swing around the bend and a house is impossibly situated on the cliff. Not only that, it has a garden.

Views from the bus:

We reached Positano and got off at the Sponda stop. On the full bus, a couple from Tennessee we'd met outside our hotel keep yelling, "Spawn-duh?!" each time the bus paused. Finally, they got the go ahead, and we followed. Not having a clue where we were, we walked down to the next bus stop. Stupid Americanos.

The streets of Positano are closed to auto traffic. Carved into the mountainside, most of the "streets" are actually staircases. Don't be fooled when you look at a map and see a road named Via Something. You're going uphill or downhill, and one way may have far fewer exits. We worked our way down slowly, pausing in expensive shops. The clothes reminded me of what gypsies would wear at the beach--light, flowing, with lots of strange ruffles, beads, and sequins. Other things looked granola but cost a fortune.

On the way down to the beach, we hit the little Piazza with the town church. There was a wedding getting started. Mom and Dad sat down on the steps while I ran down to the tourist information office to get a map. When I came back up, the bride came down. They got her ready outside the church. Mom kept saying stuff like, "They're not doing her veil right. They don't know what they're doing. They need to straighten it along her dress." (From this you should guess that mine and my sister's weddings will be perfect.) A lady walked up the stairs saying, "Just what you want--to get married in front of a bunch of tourists." Her comment was perfectly punctuated: when the bride went into the church, the people outside clapped and then followed her in, snapping pictures. One girl had on a pair of shorts that said "Tweetie" on the rear end--very classy.

We made it down to the beach and decided to spend the extra money for the private beach and its chairs and umbrellas. We met a nice guy and his father. The son gave us a deal. Apparently, it was because we were from Florida. The black rocky sand was hotter than Hades but the water was cool and clear. It was a relief in the hot sun, and the shade from the umbrella was lovely. We took a dip and then lay down to sautee. The beach was very European, but not topless. Dad kept making jokes: "Hey Ann, I'm thinking I should get me a bathing suit like that," and pointing to the guy in the skimpy green Speedo shorts. You saw that picture of him at the pool; you know he'd look good.

After lunch nearby and another round of the beach, we were ready to head back. We wanted to go another way back to the bus. This was maybe not such a good idea. We found one of the Vias I mentioned before--

We took another lurching orange bus home and then had dinner down the street. The best thing about it was the view. Mom's fried shrimp were still in their shells (equals boiled shrimp?), and Dad had the largest "shrimp" he'd ever seen atop his risotto. I think it was a really small breed of lobster.

When we got back we hung out on the terrace of our hotel and I got a taste of Praiano local life. One of our waiters, Giovanni asked if I wanted to walk across the street with him. Actually it went like this: I was sitting with my parents. He walked up and said, "Can I ask question?" then looked at my dad and said, "Not you, her." We all started laughing. I ended up saying, "Sure," and then wondering if it was really me that answered. Later he said, "I never had someone say to me, 'Oh, boy'." I guess I'm not a girl easily swayed by Italian romantic efforts.