The Amalfi Coast Delivers On Its Sexy Gorgeous Reputation

Part Five of Nine

The Amalfi Coast, Italy

I have an affinity with the Amalfi Coast of Italy. We both seem to live a little dangerously, taking risks and living on the edge of a cliff many times. And, of course, I fell in love with one little town in particular, and am inspired to sell all my possessions and make my way to Positano. Now, that’s a risk I am eager to take!

Our Amalfi Coast excursion was perhaps the most anticipated of our land tours. My friend Melanie, our fearless leader, and designer of this trip, had been talking about our tour guide for the past month.

We are a group of single women, and when Mel got a photo of Giuseppe, it was all we heard about. We were like schoolgirls with a crush on the hot quarterback from the cross-town school that we’d never met but drooled over his picture in the paper and gossiped about amidst giggles and fantasies.

We had a lot of fun being ridiculous about meeting Giuseppe, leading Melanie to announce at dinner the night before our much-anticipated meeting with this handsome Italian that we all needed to go to bed early. I’m unsure if they did, but I know I pulled in at 5 a.m. to find Melanie preparing for our 7 a.m. pick-up. I climbed into bed for an hour of not enough sleep. Sometimes, I am particularly thankful for my short hair and the five minutes it takes to do it. That morning was one of those times.

So, when four women, dressed probably a little too nice for the trip before us, walked out of the terminal to a dozen or so tour guides (all men,) Giuseppe raised his arms in triumph to the applause of his fellow guides. However, to Melanie’s disappointment, we stood about eye-to-eye or less than our adorably handsome host! So we quickly accepted SHORT, dark, and attractive, and our day with this charming, good-looking Italian began.

The Celebrity Solstice was docked in Naples, home to Mount Vesuvius, and I have to say our drive from the cruise terminal to the start of the Amalfi Coast was anything but impressive. Because Vesuvius is an active volcano, considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world, the nine-mile radius around it is called the Red Zone, and we drove right through it.

It is the area that, as Giuseppe explained, if Vesuvius erupts, would be immediately affected, evacuations impossible, so those living there know if they don’t evacuate when instructed, there would be no chance to escape the wrath of an eruption. This area includes 18 towns and more than 600,000 people. Because of the proximity to the volcano, this area is also one of the least expensive places to live, evident in the crowded, graffiti-laden homes, which screamed of poverty and desperation.

Giuseppe also explained that we would see garbage all over this part of Italy, as the money allocated by the government for trash disposal went to the mafia, who control the trash collection companies in this region. It was disgustingly evident that the money was not being used to rid the streets of Naples of the trash left outside. It was a depressing insight into a country of such beauty and class.

Once again, the theme of risk reared its ugly head, as this accumulation of trash is a severe health problem to the metropolitan area, beginning with Naples and extending outward. Couple that with the effects of living in the Red Zone, and I must say that I welcomed our entrance into Sorrento and the start of our twenty-five-mile journey along the Amalfi Coast.

The Amalfi Coast sports one curvy, narrow, two-lane road overlooking the gorgeous Mediterranean Sea. Mid-June was intensely hot, and we were thankful for our luxury van with its cold air conditioning and hot Italian driver. Our first stop was a photo opp overlooking Sorrento and the bay, which separated us from Mt. Vesuvius.

Because this stretch is built on and into cliffs, there is little to no room for agriculture; thus, we learned about the Pergolas along the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. Like traditional Pergolas, it is a type of gazebo with columns holding up latticework or, in this case, netting. Below the netting, one can find lemon trees, while grape vines are manipulated to grow above the netting in search of the sun to nourish the grapes, thus maximizing minimal space. Lemons are the primary theme on the Amalfi Coast, a much-needed ingredient for the world-class Limoncello liqueur produced there, which is a part of every waking experience along this beautiful coastline.

Color is also a part of this experience. Unlike me, these Italians are not afraid to paint, and the effect is mesmerizing. The official colors of the Amalfi Coast reflect the elements that make up this intoxicating part of the world (and I’m not just talking about the side effects of too much Limoncello!) Blue represents the sea, and white is the stone of the cliffs. Green is for the vegetation, and yellow for the lemons, of course.

Lemons are everywhere, with vegetable stands all along the coast featuring lemons the size of Nerf footballs. Along with grapes and olives, the brilliant colors of the small towns built on these cliffs, and the dazzling sparkle from the sun-soaked seas, I was immediately enchanted.

Still, I was unprepared for Positano. Despite the marathon hours spent watching Under The Tuscan Sun and loving the part where Marcello sweeps Francesca off her feet in Positano, the movie did not do Positano justice.

We were given time to stroll down the little streets of this Bougainvillea-laden town, and when I say down, I mean down. All roads lead down to the beach, and those roads are covered with the beautiful fuchsia-pink Bougainvillea plant, boutique hotels, shops, bakeries, and homes. It is quaint, romantic, and inviting. The people here are friendly, and I can see why. They live in a paradise, working the tourist business during summer and taking the remaining six months off.

I could get used to Positano’s way of life. I almost didn’t leave. The girls and Giuseppe had to drag my ass back into the van! Positano struck me the same way Maastricht did, an enchanting city in southern The Netherlands. Both sang to me, calling me. I felt a kindred spirit with both places that I have no doubt will someday draw me back to them.

I’m a little dangerous, tempted to cash it all in for a ticket to Positano. I’ll figure out the rest after I get there, but if I disappear someday, you may want to start the search for my hopelessly romantic self in Positano, Italy.

The city of Amalfi was our next stop, and it was a bit of culture shock after the serenity I found in Positano. A virtual tourist trap, this delightful little town was hard to soak in for all the people crowded into its streets. It was there it became clear that I was the rebel of the gang, dragging my poor friends down little side streets in search of a bathroom for them and a story for me.

First, let me explain that a street on the Amalfi Coast is unlike an American street. They are more like narrow, upscale alleys for pedestrians only. We ran into a local proprietor, Antonio, in front of his empty restaurant, who offered us a tart and Limoncello, but my Soul Sisters were eager to get back to the main street, so we went. But I wish I had sat with Antonio, heard his story, and shared some Limoncello with a man who has spent his whole life there. I suspect I would have liked that story.

Back along the main street, which is, to be honest, a tourist trap, I did find the essence of Italian humor in front of a shop. Hanging in the sun was a massive display of red chili peppers. The sign in the middle read Viagra Naturale €5,00. I love Italians …

Before leaving, we treated ourselves to genuine Italian gelato. My chocolate dessert was everything one would expect, and I had a moment, sitting with my friends under an umbrella in a square in Amalfi, enjoying an Italian gelato on a hot but gorgeous day in Italy. Life is incredibly good at times. That was one of those times.

By then, we were all awake and “on,” which meant it was time to grill the Italian man, and Giuseppe didn’t disappoint. Over lunch in Ravello, at a hidden local restaurant high on a hill with world-class views of the coastline below us, the ribbing began, and The full weight of the Italian inquisition rested on Evonne, who, once she gets going, doesn’t stop.

Thanks to her, we learned that marriage is sacred in Italy, and so are a man’s mistresses. Wives know this, but their role is raising the kids and caring for the family. Our guide had a six-month rule -- no mistress lasted longer than six months before moving on to the next. We risqué ladies from America asked him if wives have lovers. Although I don’t speak Italian, I take it Italian men don’t like that idea, given the passionate answer we got, complete with a scowl and Italian gestures that I’m sure were not good.

We all said we thought we should move there and shake things up a bit, and that drew a snicker from Giuseppe. Laughter, gasps (I think Giuseppe enjoyed shocking us as much as we liked being surprised), wine, great food, and Limoncello made for one of the best meals of our 14-day trip.

The inquisition continued on our ride along the back roads to our ship, with Evonne adamant that we wouldn’t get this chance again to get the inside scoop from an Italian man about all things sex and romance. She was right, but we’d been laughing so hard for so long; we all felt the effects of the curvy roads, rich food, and excellent Italian liqueur, and our stomachs were hurting.

It was a great day, living on the edge in this part of the world. Maybe, just maybe, I will one day be inspired to call this sexy place home and live my life on the edge of a cliff.