Almost as immediately as Luciana appeared, she whisked away. Espresso! Good. I looked out the double doors towards the sea. Good heavens! Even through the heavy fog, what a view. We're about 1500 feet above the coast. There is a scirocco wind tossing the waves to the rocky shore with loud sea-noises. Gulls and other sea birds are thermalling amidst the blowing fog. The sheer cliffs are lined with ancient rosy-red and tan-yellow houses, and most are an impressive size. How on earth did they get built?
An hour later Luciana returned with her brother, Raphael. He will accompany Jack back to the car to yard the luggage down. After yesterday evening's trek from the road to our flat, I'm guessing that's about a million feet, straight up. They leave and Luciana stays to chat.
We want to visit Pompeii tomorrow, the ancient city that was swallowed by Mount Vesuvius during the time of Caesar. I asked Luciana how far it was from here. It turns out that she has gone to tour guide school and told me a great deal about the region, besides how long it takes to drive to Pompeii (about 45 minutes). For example:
- Rudolph Nureyev purchased one of the islands just off the coast of Positano and built a manse there. It's visible, albiet faintly, through the fog.
Must be a pain to go out for a 6-pack.
- Pizza was invented just right down the street; and in fact there is a pizza college on those hallowed grounds. It would be sacrilege not to visit their restaurant while we're so close. And yes, they do indeed toss the pizza dough up in the air and twirl it around. It's the site of the current Guiness Book of World Record-holder for the largest pizza.
- Ancient watchtowers dot the coast. One is visible from our window. The watchtower-keeper would light fires to warn of approaching marauders. The smoke would be visible during the day; and the fire would be visible during the night. Now - the one that we can see was purchased by an artist who is really strange. He married a very nice artist woman but she is at least 10 years older than he. They paint together. (Luciana likes to give local flavor to history.)
You can just see the watchtower at the 9:00 position
Jack and Raphael return. Raphael is none the worse for wear, but Jack looks like he has been on a death march. He recovers while I unpack the bags. Later he whispers to me, "These guys are part mountain goats."
It's noon and we're hungry. Raphael mentioned to Jack a little store and restaurant within walking distance, about "two thousand stairs." It's a beautiful cliffside walk, but be careful because the stone stairs are slippery with moss.
On the walkway
Curses! It's Sunday and both the store and restaurant are closed.
There's a bus that runs to/from Positano from a parking lot nearby. It's recommended instead of driving. Once we pile in, that reason is soon evident. How did we ever make it up here last night? A beautiful drive, yes. Just whatever you do, don't look down over the edge of the road.
We disembark close to the city center. Know what? Positano is a summer resort. We walk and walk. There are lots of beautiful hotels and restaurants, all closed. Not even an Italian version of a 7-11! The streets are lined with cars, all jammed impossibly close together. But we see very few people, less than 20 the whole time we're there. Eerie. Creepy science fiction movies come to mind.
A miniature model of Positano
Finally we backtrack up to the Positano turnoff and find one store that is open. *Whew*
It was the ONLY store that was open.
They are selling pizza by the slice and a bunch of indeterminate pastries. I have a restorative prosecco and Jack orders food. We ate a pastry that was advertised as proscutto (kind of like country ham) but it was a suspicious pink color and had the consistency of toothpaste. Neither of us could figure out what it actually was. Maybe an Italian version of Spam.
It’s best not to look at food too closely when there’s only one store selling it.
We took careful notice of where we were dropped off by the bus and the timetable. We hiked back with plenty of time to spare. But when the bus approached, he waved and drove past! What? We hiked back up to the One Open Store. Another bus came. As we embarked, the bus driver remarked to another passenger: "Tourists. They always stand on the wrong side of the road." So that was it!
Back again, to our little villa. And we're going through what I've dubbed "Florence Food Withdrawal."
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