All the things

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I'm just going to pretend that there isn't a huge gaping hole of time in my blog and just jump right in. A summary, a catch up, and hopefully more consistent writing!

The past two years have progressed sort of like this:

"Ermagerd, I'm living in England, I'm gonna blog about it!"

"blog blog blog blog blog"

(Two months later)

Blog dies. Suddenly.

1 1/2 years go by. 

Enter crickets, stage left (Ahem) 

Since the demise of my very pleasant yet short lived blog, I have moved from England to Pennsylvania, where the plan was to start my nursing program (an accelerated bachelor's degree in nursing, which lasts 12 months) and then from Pennsylvania to Denver. The peripatetic life keeps on being so.

1 1/2 years ago I was in Pennsylvania after England, ready to start school again. 

Enter Vera. Vera's my daughter. Well, I didn't know what her name was at this point, nor did I even know she was a she. I just knew that I was pregnant (always a good thing, I mean, how else would you know to avoid alcohol and hazardous waste for 9 months. NOT TO MENTION KITTY LITTER). So yes, I was pregnant. And I was completing all of my necessary chores before nursing school started- things like fingerprinting, a background check, and purchasing special. embroidered. scrubs. When I got a call from the program director while standing in the mall in Wilkes-Barre PA the THURSDAY before classes start, I had no idea what was coming. (That's right, classes started in a few short days, on Monday). Did I mention I had to buy scrubs that were specially embroidered? And why oh why was I the kind of overachieving lunatic who buys textbooks from the syllabus BEFORE the first day of class? I had already received my bright orange boxes from Chegg. No one buys textbooks before the first day of class! Some people barely show up with notebooks! And I had both things. All the things. Except, apparently, immunity.

Your thoughts:

(Immunity? What the heck. I know Mary rambles sometimes, but she's completely lost me at this point. Is her life an episode of the should-be-cancelled-by-now-but-isn't-TV show 'Survivor'? Seriously, the irony with a name like that. That show should be gone. I can't believe I saw an ad for it the other day.) 

Yep, I needed -but didn't have- immunity. And no, this is not the kind of immunity that saves you from getting kicked off the island in Survivor, or the immunity that prevents you from having Heidi Klum say auf weidersehen to your tear streaked face in the next round, but rather, it was the immunity from disease. A virus, in fact. This pesky little virus that just so happened to have made a major comeback (in a bad way, like I'm looking at you, crop tops at Target, kind of way) the same year. The virus? Measles. The vaccine? MMR.

Let me give you a little backstory.  While I was banished from England (oh no, this might itself require a back story- in a nutshell, England only let me stay for 6 total months even though my husband's grad program was 9 total months. [*!%#?] it, I know. But rather than being found out and deported, I left to stay with my family like a nice little American for 2 months and then we traveled out of England for 1 month. 1+2=3 yeah? I WISH it had been that simple to the migration authorities at Heathrow, who had me in tears when we first arrived. My later entrances into England went smoother, although I still felt like I had to be armed with an Arsenal of facts and logic and tons of printed off pieces of paper documenting my whereabouts before they'd finally stop giving me a hard time and writing secret codes in my passport. Seriously.) 

So as I was saying, during my two month banishment from England, I had a lot of fun visiting my family; Virginia got a lot of beautiful snow, the Winter Olympics were afoot, and my beloved old job at Hyperion Espresso was available again so they took me right back and I got to make some cash. It ended up being for the best! While I was in America, I thought it would be the perfect time to get some of my ducks in a row regarding nursing school. In an attempt to organize said ducks, I stopped at Walgreens to get an MMR vaccine because I knew that was one of the required vaccines for nursing school. Unfortunately, (either due to my lack of research or because of my insurance policy I don't know) I had to pay $100 out of pocket for this vaccine. <money eyes emoji> $$$$ 

I'm glad I got it though, because I ended up having a great experience shadowing some medical personnel at Mary Washington Hospital and having the MMR booster was necessary for that anyway. A necessary evil, I suppose. 

August 2014

Fast forward 5 months. It's August. We are in Pennsylvania, I'm pregnant, my amazing brother just married his amazing fiancée, we had a family beach vacation in North Carolina which was relaxing and fun, and here I am standing in a mall in Wilkes-Barre PA with my phone ringing, and it's my nursing program advisor. 

I don't remember the conversation exactly. They got my blood tests back and I'm not fully immune to measles, part of the MMR vaccine.

"That's impossible" I think I said. I had just gotten that shot in February! 

"Sometimes they just don't work" Said my advisor.

I didn't know quite what this meant, program-wise, until she elaborated. Measles is a very dangerous virus to contract while pregnant or if you might become pregnant. Since I fell into the former group, my advisor explained that I would be in hospitals doing clinical work almost immediately, and they wouldn't be able to guarantee that I wouldn't be exposed to measles somehow (what if the patient didn't know themselves that they had it yet?); furthermore, the risk to the baby was birth defects and, in serious cases, death. My advisor said my participation in this program, given my pregnancy and immunity status, may not be approved by the dean, but she would go to bat for me and push to have me included if I decided I wanted to risk it.

Risk it. Yeah, I risk it for some things, but not my baby.

I broke down in tears (always with the tears!) at this point in our conversation but tried to hide it, so was gasping and choking but trying to not let her know. To say I was devastated at this point would be fair.  My advisor asked if I'd like time to think it over and discuss with Max, and I said 'yes' because it was one syllable (hello, easy to say while masking sobs) but my mind was already made up.

I called her back the next day, Friday (again class starts Monday!), and explained that there was no way I could in good conscience risk my baby's well being for the sake of the nursing program.

I will never forget her response: 

"Well Mary, I know you won't regret this, and I can tell you are already a wonderful mother" 

Spoiler alert- I have never regretted it; that one big sacrifice was one of many required of me since becoming a mother, and the ability to sacrifice with a happy heart for the sake of someone else has been a huge huge learning experience and ongoing puzzle for me, since that day when it all became REAL. After she and I hung up, I realized I had to put away "all the things" (except immunity, that I just had to be mad about for a few days). The textbooks, syllabus, stethoscope, all put away. I sold what I could, figuring that if I did re-enroll in the following August (the advisor said they would save a spot for me) the textbooks may be outdated anyway because that's how it goes. I had worked so hard to get good grades, discern, and apply to nursing schools. And yet, not once have I regretted making that decision. 

That's kind of what I'd like the focus of this blog to be about. Selflessness in a selfish world. Sacrifices (and why make them?). Motherhood (see ya, gentlemen). But most of all, my peripatetic life. Because I'm not showing any signs of settling down yet! 

Amalfi coast: a guard dog and a HUGE dinner

Tuesday April 8th.

Today we woke up to a heavy, dense fog that descended over Bomerano in the early morning. Oh no! Well, we sat and ate our breakfast (note, it was the only hotel that offered an entire breakfast tea station- those Brits!) and they had a boiled egg station as well (Brits again!) with handmade ceramic egg cups. While I despise black tea at breakfast with every fiber of my being (coffee it most certainly is not), I was thrilled about the eggs because this was the first spot that gave us the opportunity to have some protein at breakfast.

We decided to see how long we could wait it out before the fog would lift… or would it?

The place where we had lunch yesterday had amazing smelling coffee so on our way to the town square we stopped for cappuccinos.

Then we sat in the square. A huge group of Italian high schoolers got out of a bus, they were doing the same hike we were! It's called The Walk of the Gods (cue dramatic music), and it's super popular.

A dog came and found us while we were sitting on the square and he guarded us well, he was so awesome I wanted to keep him:

There are lots of stray dogs and cats in the area. It is kind of a problem.

But some of the dogs are such guard dogs that it's hard not to love them. This guy kept us company all while we waited for the fog to lift. Keeping watch. Making sure the Italian teenagers didn't bother us too much.

Eventually, the clouds weren't really showing any signs of lifting, so we decided at least to leave the town square, but we waited until well after the huge group of Italian teenagers had left.

Then we hiked the sentiero deli dei (walk of the gods), which went through Nocelle, the village where we were staying the night after.


The walk of the gods was great. We ended up hiking that path about 4 times! It was peaceful, had amazing sea views, and it was steep but not impossibly so. The view of the mountains was great:

It was probably a little easier than our hike on Sunday. Max hung back and read his book, hoping that more of the clouds would go away. I hiked ahead because didn't mind the clouds. I bumped into the huge Italian teenager crowd.


Oh my goodness, y'all. The girls wore sequined black shirts and leggings, had huge designer purses and clutched iPads in their manicured hands WHILE HIKING. I felt like I was galumphing behind them (and I was) in my trail appropriate boots, hiking pants and waterproof Marmot jacket (which I love!) If there's someone who knows how to sacrifice style, it's me:

Yes, that's me. After we arrived in Nocelle. 

Eventually the trail gave way to the town of Nocelle. Steps began to appear and a paved walkway between the cliff and a wooden fence was pleasant after the up-and-down of the trail. A little wooden sign appeared "Sentiero degli dei (walk of the gods) snack shop"
Sure enough, a Nocelle man had a little stand with sprite, coke, local lemonade soda and wine/beer. I think lemon ices as well. He manned the shop and talked with his friends. There was a little patio with smooth wooden beams overhead and vines crawling over them where people could sit and look at the ocean. Positano was starting to become visible down below and further along the coast.

Max caught up with me right before the snack shop, and we meandered down the "streets" of Nocelle, walked past our next B&B and the town square. It was tiny, only 20 feet across and had a big olive tree in the middle which shaded the cement benches. The stucco wall that jutted out from the only building was large and white with a painting of padre Pio on it:

We decided to keep going, because the one and only restaurant in Nocelle was closed for maintenance before the tourist season started. We learned that it would open the following week. Needing lunch, we pushed on via a step path on the cliffside over to the next village called Montepertuso, which also hovered above Positano.

We saw two restaurants while walking on the road, one called La Terra and the other La Tagliata (la Tagliata is beef steak sliced thinly and grilled, it is sort of a specialty here). We opted for La Terra and it was lovely:

We were there early-ish, so I got a good photo of the place

After a nice relaxing and bright sunny lunch (the grandmother of the owner came over and spoke with us, saying that she had been to Boston before) we walked along the road a little more. We decided to take the bus down to Positano instead of going the steep path down on the annoying/narrow road. Whenever a car comes around the corner your life flashes before your eyes, no joke.

So we waited in Montepertuso for the bus. On a lot of our hiking/walking trips, Max and I have spent an inordinate amount of time wondering if the bus will ever come. Like... are we standing in the right spot? is that north? what is that cluster of people waiting for? And so on. This trip we have the added experience of wondering which boat is ours, did they give us the right dock number (the answer is no, no they didn't) the ship is running late, etc.


In Montepertuso, at least, we knew we were standing in front of the bus stop, but who knew if we could buy tickets on the bus or not.

A couple wandered up to us. "Parlez-vous Français?" I was asked. "Un peu" I replied. I gave them the directions they wanted. Second time my limited knowledge of French came in handy on this trip. Not a bad thing.

The bus finally came. Normally in Italy (or this part of Italy) you buy your bus tickets ahead of time from tobacco shops (Tabacchi, always with a big sign out front bearing a 'T') or at the bar (cafe) nearest to the bus stop. It is strange, but every so often the driver will let you buy tickets on the bus.

The twisting and winding road down to Positano was an experience! We landed in Positano at around 4pm. Already I was missing the mountain village. Positano is touristy, expensive, and full of shops with the kind of ugly artwork that only rich people buy.  

But I wouldn't want to paint an unsavory picture of the town. The town itself has a lot of character and merit and is beautiful. Darn you, Positano, for playing with my emotions so much! On the one hand, the expensive-just-because-we-can-and-you're-tourists got to me, but on the other it was just so heart-achingly beautiful I didn't know what to think about it, truly. 

Because this is Positano, on a later / sunnier day: 

Positano is the linen spot of this coastline. Of course you can buy the linens, lemons, and brightly painted pottery/ceramics anywhere. But it is mainly in Positano that the linens are made, so there were more shops here. Ravello had more ceramics. Sorrento had more lemons. There was actually even a lace makers shop in Positano as well, which was cool.

The church in Positano was gorgeous, on the sea:

We then got our bus tickets and boarded the bus that would bring us back to Praiano, where we were staying that evening at Locanda Costa Diva, and we took these photos at dusk right before eating dinner:

It was very close to the water, and had a long terraced garden area with the restaurant nestled under a bunch of overhanging wisteria. 

Olive trees, with lemons growing next to them

Our room had nice tiles on the floor and in the bathroom, and outside our door (above it in an alcove) there were 4 blessed Virgin Mary statues 

We ate at the restaurant, and had anchovies, scialatelle pasta, and fish. The house white wine came in a ceramic pitcher. At the end of the meal they brought limoncello and espresso and we felt so full that we opted out of dessert.


The next morning we woke up and had breakfast at the hotel Costa Diva, and then checked out. It is nice when they give you a discount for paying in cash.

We split up on this day because I really needed to do laundry. I only brought 2 pairs of pants, 3 shirts and a dress. (In fact, at our later hotel in Capri, the owner Ettore carried my backpack into the room for me and was like "so light! This is nothing, wow!" I felt very proud.)

By this time, Max was almost out of clean socks and the laundry just really needed to be done. So he decided to do the Walk of the Gods again and I walked up above the village of Praiano to the self service laundromat. When I walked in, there was a girl working in there. She asked me if I wanted her to do it, 'i am more than capable of putting clothes in and pressing "start" by myself' I thought. The whole operation cost 12 euro. Not as bad as sending your laundry off to someone or dry cleaning it, so it was all good to me. I piled everything in and set my phone timer to come back at 11am and went for a walk.

I went in to the local pharmacy and checked out products because I'm a label person and I could read labels forever. I love figuring out the different names for things in Europe. My favorite of all time is the French for "wheat flour" that you see on ingredients labels: farine de blé ---- I always think of a French person saying it with emphasis on the "blehhhhhh" part. Farine de bleeehhhh. Lol. It takes very little to make me laugh, I know.

Anyway, I walked further along and went down to a tiny corner store and bought a snack. Then I walked back up to the laundromat and finished it all up. I chatted with the girl working there and asked if she wanted some of my snack. She said no because she doesn't like spicy things. She said she is from Montepertuso, the town next door to Nocelle where we ate lunch.

The laundry was finished (I noticed someone forgot a sock. Someone always does. I wish I knew why socks are so lose-able).

I hiked back down to Praiano to take the bus to Positano. Then I would hike up and take the bus to Nocelle. Once I landed in Positano I realized that I skipped breakfast and my snack was not enough to sustain me. So I went to one of the restaurants on the beach.

Afterwards, the fog in the mountains was so thick that as the bus drove higher and higher up we lost sight of everything completely and could hardly see the next car in front of us. This isn't a huge problem since the bus and cars honk at the turns anyway.

As we drove closer and closer to Nocelle, who should I spy with my little eye but Max! Walking on the side of the road in search of snack, he said. He didn't find one. Most places (and there weren't many up there) were closed for a siesta.

I got dropped off in the parking lot above Nocelle. It is a car-free town. I knew exactly how to find my way to the town square, having been there, and I was in front of Casa Cuccaro within 10 minutes on foot. Very easy:

I walked in to the house, and was greeted by a kind looking woman, the owner Margherita. She said eagerly "did you see your husband?" With a thick Italian accent and I said that I had waved to him from the bus. She laughed at that. Then she showed me the room. The view from our private balcony was amazing! From where we were situated, you could see the church and terraced gardens all the way down to the beach:

When the sun was sitting through the cloudy fog that had descended in the late afternoon, we snapped this picture from our balcony, and you can see Positano in the distance on the beach:

Heaven

We walked through a dining room/living room to get to our room. The whole place was split leveled, here and there. Outside our room this large, framed picture hung:

Then I realized later it was the owner, and Margherita's husband! Multiple copies of this photo hung around the place. He was proud. She must've found him sexy. I don't know. But once I met him, later that day, the photo kind of made sense. He has lived in Nocelle his entire life and is so proud to be Italian and hardworking. He was such a nice guy!
So anyway, Max returned and sadly said that no place had been open for a snack. We would have to wait until 7:30 (at the absolute earliest) to eat.

The two restaurants between Montepertuso and Nocelle, "La Terra" and "La Tagliata" were fresh in our memories and we really wanted to try La Tagliata for dinner. And we were starving. And it was a 25 minute walk. So we waited until the soonest possible moment to walk over and we did. We even walked a lot slower than usual to kill time before we arrived. 

We went back through Nichelle's narrow corridors of stucco and cement and tile, up the steps to the road, then walk on the road by the cliffs and inlets and still arrived at La Tagliata at 7:25. They of course opened at 7:30 and didn't really get in full swing until 8:30. But we didn't care: at 7:31 We walked in and I made probably one of the biggest mistakes of our 25 years on this earth: we said to the super friendly owner-

"Buona sera, we are VERY hungry!"

What happened next was the largest -- THE LARGEST -- amount of food I had ever been given at a restaurant to date. First of all the owner guy shook our hands and introduced himself. Said that his sister and brothers worked here as well, his mama was cooking, and it was a family affair-
No menu. He went over the progression with us, a devilish gleam already in his eyes due to our stated hunger. We would have antipasti, then pasta (primo), then meat (secundo) then dessert, limoncello, and coffee.

A group of 10 people walked in after us, and Max and I both swear that we were served half as much as they were. Essentially, we were eating for 5 that night. On top of this, Max had not eaten since breakfast, so everything he ate made him feel more full than he thought it would, and by the time the main course rolled around, the burden of eating fell on yours truly. That's right.

We posited later that we weren't expected to finish each plate, but we scraped them clean not wanting to appear rude (and because it tasted incredible. Who knew grilled vegetables or bean salad could be so freaking fantastic??). Let's be real here, an Italian couple who walked in later ate only half the food they were ever given. But seriously?? Waste not want not! There are starving people and I think that food is a terrible thing to waste. So finish everything we most certainly did….except for (hangs head in shame) dessert. I just couldn't. 

Max actually had to take a break and go outside and walk around a bit to let off steam, we were chortling as they continued to bring us more and more plates of delicious, homemade food, and then even I took a break and went outside as well -- to breathe deeply, and mutter incantations to help my body digest faster. I was reminded of everyone's overeating stories at my wedding, which was a food day like no other!

So what, in total, did we consume that night??
Note- the portions were NOT small.
Antipasti:
Braised cabbage greens, garden peas, spinach and sliced broccoli
Chickpeas browned with onion and garlic
Fagioli and Pasta al fagioli which looked kind of like this
Golden potato salad
Housemade bresaola, sliced thinly
Housemade mozzarella
Bruschetta, two pieces of grilled bread topped with chopped tomatoes and onion/garlic
Ricotta cheese 
grilled egpplant (melanzane) and zucchini
Two mini pizzas (about 2" across) topped with tomato sauce made from their tomatoes

Primo: 
1 round dinner plate containing the following:
homemade gnocchi, manicotti, scialatielli, and ravioli (which contained sage and browned butter)

Secundo (mixed grill, the house specialty):
Roasted potatoes
2 Lamb chops
1 large pork chop
rabbit 
beef steak (about 8 ounces)
homemade sausages
kebabs with lamb and vegetables

COMMENCE FOOD COMA

But wait, what about dessert??

Since I forced Max to eat most of the pasta, I had to eat most of the meat. No problem, I could handle that. But when Max decided after being in pain from full-ness that he couldn't even touch dessert, we laughed so hard when we were brought a large plate with big slices of:

Pistachio sponge cake with an Italian buttercream
cinnamon almond bar topped with brown sugar
a fruit torte with strawberries
very alcoholic, dense chocolate ganache cake
and fruit

yeah, the fresh fruit was about all I could force myself to eat. although we took minuscule bites of all the other desserts. 

then the coffee and limoncello came. 

the rest, as they say, is history. up to 1 week later, Max said he still hadn't quite recovered from this meal. you might be wondering how much this insanely large amount of food cost, right? 35 euro pp, including a bottle of wine, coffee, limoncello, EVERYTHING. 

ah, Italia. 

Amalfi Coast: Bomerano

Monday April 7th.

Today we said goodbye to Atrani and L'argine Fiorito.

The goal was to hike to Amalfi and then take the bus from Amalfi to Praiano. The day after this we were staying in Praiano, so we had the perk of locating our Inn for the next night while on the way to the one for this evening. We were staying that night in Bomerano, which is a village on the plateau way above Praiano, so after waiting forever for the bus we finally were on our way. We passed Costa Diva in Praiano, noted it's location and then got off the bus at the church of San Gennaro. Gorgeous:

We began the hike, which was off to a rocky (literally) start going up more steep steps, but also rocky because we had no clue where we were. Eventually we made it high enough up on the road (which went in switchback formation) to where we could kind of tell where we were. There was this spot where the road ended, and a tiny trail continued onwards but it didn't match the trail description from our book. To make matters more serious, there was a male donkey tied to a post at this trailhead spot, the men who need him were working below.


This donkey did not like us standing there when he couldn't fully see us. He tore at his tether and the ground. Mad.

We decided to see where this little trail took us, and sure enough there was an older Italian man coming down with a walking stick and he asked where we were going. He communicated that we were going the right way. He warned us in Italian that there were many steps in front of us. Was that a mischievous twinkle in his eye? Surely we got the idea by now we would encounter lots of steps no matter where we hiked.


The views of Praiano below, San Gennaro church getting smaller and smaller:

We were on the opposite side of the trail for the walk of the Gods, so we could see some people doing that hike as we were going up ours.


We made it to the upper part of town, with this Piazza of Constantinople (church of San Marco):

Our trail led us up eventually to the caves in the side of the mountain:

Getting there!

Caves!


There was one cave that we both tried to go into, but we had our packs on and the cave narrowed so much we didn't even have room to turn around, but were forced to walk out the way we entered, facing forward. Feeling claustrophobic yet?

It was 1 o' clock when we finally started to see houses. We walked behind them and entered an alleyway which eventually led into the main square of Bomerano in Agerola.

How to describe it? So far we had been staying in seaside villages which scaled the mountains and clung to them. When we reached Bomerano I realized how strange it was that the town was mostly flat. It doesn't take long for me to get used to things, I suppose. It was bizarre to look out and see small rolling hills and trees in the distance. Super weird.

The town was pretty quiet. I led us on the main road to our hotel Due Torri.

There was only one woman in the whole place. She brought us to our room, which I was pleased to see had a nice big bathtub.
We then wandered back down towards the town square to find lunch. It was 2pm and we had not eaten since Atrani.

'L'angolo dei sapori' was the restaurant we stumbled upon.

I ordered risotto with mushrooms and "fish with crazy water" the crazy water has been featured on many a menu. It's like a lemony herb sauce with garlic that comes with grilled fish. Why it's called 'acqua pazza' I don't know:

Max ordered some sort of pasta and steak. There was a tv up in the corner that was playing soccer (boring) but then started playing the Simpsons in Italian and it was hilarious. It was also funny to watch the two kids (children of the owner of the restaurant) who were hanging out and helping as they watched the Simpsons. They laughed so hard! And hearing the Italian voices was hilarious for us too. 

There were Italian and also German couples eating and watching the Simpsons as well. I could tell they were not impressed, and made me feel pretty childish for cracking up. Eh, whatever. Nothing beats Bart Simpson's Italian overdub, in my humble opinion.

The meal was delicious and satisfying. After a walk back to the hotel I sat and read my book.

For dinner we ate at the hotel, Due Torri, because their restaurant was supposed to be good. This hotel caters primarily to British people via Exodus hiking tours.
We met some exodus people in Switzerland and Max talked at length with one of them in Switzerland. He was a nice tour leader. But staying in a hotel populated by large British groups of 20+ People can be a little experience-ruining. At the restaurant, they were so consumed with the task of serving long medieval style tables of adults and children that I think our little party of two got left by the wayside a little bit. There was only like 1 waiter for the whole place! I had risotto again (could never get sick of it) and a salad. We opted out of dessert but were given tiramisu anyway because one of the large groups was given a whole sheet pan of it and didn't eat all the slices. Score! The people were all so friendly that we didn't mind putting up with the rowdy groups next to us.

Amalfi Coast: the weekend

Saturday April 5th.

It was sort of sad to wake up and know that we would leave Ravello today. The owners of the B&B, Luigi and Rosalba, were so kind to us, and the views and accommodation were excellent. On top of that, I could actually have small talk with Rosalba, which was like a big deal to me then. There were not a lot of English-speaking people so talking about the weather, our life in England, etc. was nice.

Because it had rained during the night, it was altogether too wet on the patio for us to eat there this morning. We learned that they let us eat breakfast in the kitchen below the rooms when the weather was not as good. We went out on our patio, turned left down some stone steps, passed their lemon groves on the right and quickly came to a little bungalow nestled under climbing wisteria flowers. We walked in to a kitchen/dining area painted a cheerful apple green (this is totally irrelevant, but it was the exact color that my sis and I industriously painted our bedroom when I was 12 and she was 10). I have always loved that color. There were also some cool leather chairs set up at an old, dark wood table. It was the awesomest kitchen/dining area for this little village and Max and I both expressed our envy of the place when we left. 

Since the table was all set up and so I sat down to pour myself coffee while Rosalba was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready for us.

She walked over to chat with me as I was pouring my coffee, then she looked shocked and gasped down at my coffee cup and said:
"NO! No no no!"
I almost jumped, and was startled. I expected to see a big fat cockroach floating in my cup. Worse things have happened. But there was nothing wrong. In fact, my cup was full of coffee and everything in perfect, caffeinated order. I looked up at her face, frozen in horror, as she said:

"Too much! Too much!! The coffee is so STRONG!"

It dawned on me. OOOOHHHH. They drink this coffee as if it's espresso. Even though they give you mugs, they expect you to only fill them 1/4 full and then dump some milk and sugar on top, in the morning. After 11am, they do not add milk but they still add the sugar.

OOOOHHHH is right. The poor woman!

I looked at her and (sorta) said in French:

"I get ya, honey. But I'm an American, and we Americans can handle our coffee strong, black, and gritty." 

Also- the mere idea of adding sugar to my morning coffee gives me the heebie jeebies. 

Not to worry. I like it this way, I told her.

She relaxed after this explanation. But I didn't dare tell her I drank a whole thermos yesterday, to avoid the risk of her going into cardiac shock! 

After breakfast and checking out, we walked down a lot of steps (called the via gradoni) and then followed the road over into Atrani.

Thankfully, during small talk French hour at the B&B, I had the good sense to ask Rosalba if she knew of any places to eat in Atrani, seeing as we would be staying there the next two days. I particularly asked her if she knew of any place that was not too expensive and she said without hesitation that we had to go to "Le Arcate." (the arch? or something). Built into the arches. 

We arrived in Atrani after an hour and a half walk, and immediately spotted Le Arcate built into the arches and sea caves that stood up against the sea. Their name was painted onto the rock wall, below the tunnel:

And believe it or not, the restaurant is hidden away in all 6 of these arches on the very bottom, closest to the water:

People of the world, where do I even begin to describe the magic that is Le Arcate. 

We sat outdoors. I had mussels in a tomato broth, Max had pizza napoletana (garlic, oregano and basil, tomato sauce) from the wood fired oven:

We also shared an arugula salad. We had their house red wine and enjoyed watching the waves splash up against the rocks. One wave even crashed up onto the seating area!

This was the view from the restaurant's outdoor seating, and we could tell some rain was headed our way:

After this glorious lunch we headed back to our inn: L'argine Fiorito. 

It is tucked in to the Valley that opens up into the village of Atrani. You can see the river to the right, and the buildings back here all feel like ancient mills and mill houses. The B&B seemed like it was situated where an old mill was, it would not have been out of place, anyway. our room we could hear the river running and it was a soothing noise.

Their sign:

Our room had tile floors and the entire bathroom was done in colorful tiles:

Just some random artwork from our room, it ain't no Holiday Inn Express:

Each room here had a feminine name, and ours was Ortensia. Rosa was next door. The balcony opened up and the view followed the narrow street down to the ocean, between the cliffs:

The sound of the churning river and water fall lulled us to sleep at night. 

After resting a bit we walked down and sat on the beach for a while, reading our books. 

I was reading My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor, a nonfiction about a brain scientist who has a stroke and gets to witness her own brain's deterioration due to an AVM:

 

It is awesome!! Pretty short though, so I knew I would finish it well before our trip was over and then who knows what I'd read. 

And yeah, I still live in a pre-Kindle, pre-books-on-iPad world. Not sure I will ever convert, either. I hike around from place to place on vacation, carrying everything on my back. I make the sacrifice to forgo matching outfits, dismiss packing an extra pair of shoes and hairbrush, go without make-up and face wash (wondering, "will I ever look beautiful while on vacation?" to this Max only laughs) but I STILL lug a book around with me-- I know, it's not the smartest system.

This is my much loved spot in Atrani. Where the river that roars past our B&B L'argine Fiorito meets the ocean. It's a good spot to reflect and we sat here a lot, waiting for our next meal. :) 

We had wanted to try ristorante Eolo in Amalfi for dinner, but their website said closed until April. We were assured that, seeing as it's April, it would be open. After the walk over to Amalfi, however, we discovered that it wasn't. It was nice to get a 30 minute walk up and down steps before dinner though. 

We walked back to Atrani and decided spur of the moment to eat at A Paranza, which I had seen earlier that day.

Sometimes it's hard as a traveller to just go to restaurants spur of the moment. We like to have things planned and researched, and know which restaurants have famous 'this' or a good version of 'that'. It doesn't help that I am traveling with a serious foodie companion (guess I can't put all the blame on him either). But Paranza looked trustworthy to me, and it was 8pm so we were starting to get hungry.

It ended up being a fabulous place. We got freshly fried anchovies as a starter (a local specialty to Amalfi), along with some fried squash blossoms stuffed with cheese:

And I received this very special shellfish risotto, which came with this little guy on top: 

His small, beady eyes looked up at me for the duration of my meal, seeming to say "et tu, Mary?" In a sad squeaky voice. I didn't feel bad at all. Ok I did. But I scraped that plate-bowl clean.

Max had pasta with mushrooms and then we finished the meal with the delizia di limoni, a creamy lemon sponge cake, because you know, vacation.

Sunday April 6th

Breakfast at L'argine Fiorito was nice, in a side room with handmade lace curtains on the windows. Dark, wooden heritage furniture (a side-board with an ancient looking mirror on top and a side table) stood against the wall. The old furniture always has handmade lace doilies on it, doesn't it? There were cool, painted tile floors just like in our bedroom. The dark wood wainscoting, together with the black and white family portraits on the walls and everything else, made it clear that we were in old, well-established house of some ancient Atrani family. It made me want to eat my breakfast in whispers. They had antiques everywhere. there might have been an old knight in armor standing somewhere.

The dog came in and yipped a lot but she didn't bother us. After we finished, we hiked over to Amalfi to make it to 10am mass at the Cathedral of St Andrew (Duomo di Sant Andrea). 

Loved that church so much! But what really got to me was that when we went it was the children's mass. Imagine all varieties of adorable Italian children, pudgy and non-pudgy, filling the first 4 pews on either side, in charge of leading the songs, prayers of the faithful, etc. all under the sharp watchful eye of the matron of ceremonies (Sunday school teacher?). 

Yep, my day was made. I picked out the one in corduroy's and what looked like a homemade sweater whom I wanted to take home with me and forever feed pasta to, but Max reminded me of the legality issue with that, so I demurred.

We hung around the church a little while longer and then ventured out into the bright, white streets of Amalfi. The town was humming with people: tourists, and more importantly, those who were there to watch and cheer their fellow Italians in the marathon that had begun before mass started. These marathon runners are crazy! They had to run up steps steps steps onto the mountain trails and then back down.

Our hike that day coincided with the marathoners trail, but since they started before Mass, we thankfully didn't have to deal with blocking their way or anything. The ones we saw were stragglers. Impressive stragglers, even still. The trail was the equivalent of taking the
stairs to the top of the Sears Tower (Willis Tower) in Chicago TWICE, down and up and down and up! We were walking the trail and I wouldn't have enjoyed running it. So yeah, we saw stragglers. The ones who decided to walk and then only run when people were watching (hey I'm not judging as they are doing more than I could!) and then there was one guy jogging down the stone steps going "aaii! Ooh! Sh**! Sh**!" Every time his feet hit the stairs. I feel ya, man.

This was going to be our longest hike yet, so we grabbed picnic supplies first. We ducked into a little sandwich shop to get these things, noticed that on the shop wall this lady sold all sorts of Italian foods and wine. Two of the children from mass, little girls in grey dresses and tights and buckle shoes stampeded into the shop and began speaking to the owner very fast and loudly, fighting and punching each other. One of them started crying. I laughed.

Looking back at the wall while waiting for our food to be packed up, I saw a harmless looking little bag in the corner, open for sampling.
It contained what looked like candy coated almonds. These have never been my thing, but I was hungry. I snatched one. The flavor was amazing, creamy and lemony with a crunchy whole almond in the center. Perfectly lemony, not as strong as chocolate but similar (turns out they have cocoa butter but not full on chocolate). The combination was magical. And I grabbed a few more...

We hiked straight up after that on narrow stairs up to the village of Pontone which hugs the cliff and peers out over Amalfi town. Glittering sea views and little homes with grapevines, lemon and olive trees, and gardens bursting with onion tops and fava beans made this town like any other on this coast.

The sun was beating down and I kept reminding Max to put on sunscreen. We passed marathon helpers who were stationed periodically throughout the trail. I felt bad for the guy who got stuck in the most remote rocky part, he looked wistfully at his cell phone with no service, and instead of using that, he kept talking into the Walkie Talkie. I wondered if anyone was listening.

The following are pictures from that first part of the hike, this first photo is of Amalfi town which got smaller and smaller below us as we ascended:

Amalfi again, a little higher up:

And a little higher:

We got so far into the valley and so high up we could not see Amalfi on the coast anymore:

This was the first town we saw, Pontone, up on the mountain:

The town square, where residents were preparing to eat Sunday lunch and watch for the marathoners:

Past this village of Pontone, the trail actually turned into a real trail. Remember that so far, we had solely been hiking up stone or rock stairs and through villages. Well now, the trail was dirt and brush and felt just like the hiking trails in national parks and such. It was nice:

We hiked up 600 meters straight (again, that is higher than the Sears tower) and then the trail leveled out again. We crossed a waterfall which was at the end of the valley:

Then we hiked on for 1 more hour before we hit a beautiful spot right before the village of Pagerola where these hunter's huts were. They were so cool! Like little hobbit holes built into the mountainside. It looked just like the Shire! In this part of Italy, they even put the large round door handles right in the middle of the door, but alas the doors themselves were not round:

You can barely make out the triangular green roof in the center of the photo, with the winding path

Now I have no idea what people hunt up in these mountains, since all I could see were bunnies (Elmer Fudd much?) and then the goat farmer. There were literally a few shotgun shells on the ground. Target practice? Who knows. The hunter's cabins remained mesmerizing in their provincial homey-ness, and I wanted one. 

Soon after the hobbit loveliness, we descended into the town of Peragola.There was a town square with a church and pizzeria, and a large flat balcony with umbrella'd tables that belonged to the snack bar/pasticceria. The sun was bright and hot, and I could feel the afternoon drowsiness coming on. M wanted a snack so I went into the bar and got an espresso for me, a pastry for him. Three Italian men preceded me. They each ordered an espresso (1€) and paid with a 100 € bill. In America this would be so rude! However, I have learned while in Switzerland and Italy that big bills are more commonly used, even though it felt like we were in the remotest mountain village, they are not as remote as they seem.

After our all day hike (about 5 hours) we descended and knew without communication that we would both be eating at Le Arcate for dinner, since our lunch there the day before was so good.

We returned to L'argine Fiorito. The river was roaring but it was warm so we opened the balcony windows.

When we walked down to Le Arcate it was not quite 7pm. We sat on the walkway where the benches were and watched the sunset. You know, the spot where I liked to "muse"? Yeah, well with a growling stomach after an all-day hike it wasn't so romantic.
Starving.

Okay. Seriously. Why don't Italians open their restaurants just a little early in these cases.

We waited until the earliest possible time where a) they were technically open b) we did not look like blatant tourists. It was 7:30. Sooo early for Italy, but not for us!

We ordered marinated fresh anchovies in lemon juice, the staple on every menu here and so good. You just put the whole little fish in and it's wonderful. Then we had pizza. I got mine with grilled eggplant and zucchini, Max got margherita with tomato sauce, cheese, and herbs. The photos were blurry, but you get the idea.