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. 

Amalfi Coast: a rainy day

Friday April 4th.
An uneventful day.

Today we woke up to clouds rolling in from Africa. It wasn't raining yet, so we still ate breakfast on the patio. We just did a lot of reading and walked up to the town square in Ravello right before 11am.
We sat in the church for a while. I took some photos. 

Then we got comfortable on a covered outdoor patio at Al San Domingo, drinking espresso and rooibos tea while using the wifi. 

And then it started to pour!

Ravello's town square:

Town square

We sat and sat and sat, sipped and sipped, meditated and read until finally it lightened up enough for us to find some lunch. We ate at Ristorante Vittoria. I had an octopus salad and cuttlefish (squid). It was really light and lemony and didn't involve anything but the squid and some vegetables- perfect for a rainy day. Our food there was good, but Max order a pizza and it just wasn't as good. That was our only problem with the place. 

We wandered the town some more and relaxed.

On our walk around town that afternoon, while it was still kind of drizzly and damp, we were walking down some stairs and saw this guy:

EWWWWWW!

I have ascertained I have a deep, irrational fear of large frogs. Especially the ones with weirdly bent legs. Oh my GOODNESS. So gross. He was bigger than my HAND. Like my entire hand. 

After a freak out sesh that lasted about 15 minutes, I calmed down enough to walk past him. 

Our view of the rain clouds from the terrace at B&B I Limoni:

When it came to choosing a dinner spot, we both knew we wanted to go back to Cumpa Cosimo. No question. Our only hesitation was that were not too hungry and preferred to order ourselves. We couldn't risk 'mama' coming over and offering us 3 or 4 courses again. I could not bear to think about the crestfallen look on her face as she or her grown son came to clear away our plates with half finished food leftover. Oh horror of horrors! But the allure of the food at such a good price won us over, and -mama or no mama- we decided to eat there.

As luck would have it, she let us order for ourselves. We had fresh, local anchovies marinated in lemon, then a vegetable soup for me, and linguine with porcini mushrooms for Max. I believe we also had an arugula salad. So very good, and not too heavy.
We did not have the opportunity to build a big appetite this day because of the rain, and it was fitting that it was also a Friday in Lent. So we noshed happily and lightly and still felt incredibly satisfied. When they asked what we would like for dessert, we could hardly refuse homemade tiramisu though... They even insisted we take extra! No arguing with that.

At least I was spared the limoncello.

The Amalfi Coast: Day 2

Thursday April 3rd

Ravello, Italy 

We awoke to a sunny morning. This was a good thing because we were expecting (and did receive) some rain that afternoon and the next few days. We looked out at the patio and saw thermoses of coffee and funky place settings and a platter of homemade bread and ricotta cake:

The coffee was so so strong. And milk was there in a little pitcher to pour inside. I poured myself a usual American cup of coffee and gave thanks. I think I almost made it through the entire thermos! What can I say? I am a Pacific Northwestern girl and I like my coffee, the stronger the better.

My coffee:

And seriously what is going on with that homemade placemat. I don't even know.

Our first Amalfi hike was to go to the next village over, called Atrani. This involved (you guessed it- steps!) but also a really cool hike down the Valley of the Dragon. There is a river that runs the length of the valley. We followed it all the way down from Ravello to Atrani, where it then fights its way into the ocean near the boardwalk.

There were some really cool houses and old mills in the valley, and the wisteria was unreal:

We further and further down the lush, green valley and eventually wound up in Atrani:

Below the arches in the above photo is a seating area right over shallow spot where the river runs into the ocean. 

I love watching rivers meet the sea. There is a constant struggle as the tide comes in. The river runs and runs but the aggressive waves win. At this point, there is more salt water than fresh water in the river bed. Then, as the tide goes out, the pacifist river peacefully flows out uninhibited, and in its own little way, it wins. It is amazing to think about the enormous amount of living creatures that depend on this constant war for survival. They need the perfect balance of pH, of salt water and fresh water, in order to thrive here. If the river triumphed too often, then they may not survive. Of course (nature being what it is) they could probably adapt and become purely creatures of the river. And vice versa. But here in this bed of sand and rock where the perfect marriage of the two environments is, they currently, and hopefully always will, exist. 

We sat and looked at the ocean and mused for a little bit (obviously I waxed poetic about water, sorry about that). There were a few little skiffs anchored on the shore. We saw one guy take one out to fish. Designer jeans and sweater along with rubber galoshes and fishing pole. If there's one difference between us Americans and these Europeans, it's that we always sacrifice style for practicality when we do anything outdoors. For instance, I was wearing hiking boots, quick-drying hiking pants, and an athletic shirt as I wrote this! If an Italian was embarking on the long hikes I did, she'd probably wear loafers or designer sneakers, jeans, and a loud flashy leather jacket. The only exception to this rule is Germans and of course, British. They wear their hiking pants and kerchiefs like any old American would. 

On this subject, I'll never forget the time Max and I went to Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah, and a bus of French tourists came over and stopped at the edge of the canyon. The women who disembarked all wore high heels and nylon stockings! They hobbled down the paths, gripping the sides of the canyon like their lives depended on it. Which, of course, they did. They would wear their heels and succeed, damn it!

Back to Atrani… We hung around for a while and walked up to the local church:

This is me and a construction worker, hanging out on the square in front of the Church:

After seeing Atrani's church we hiked over to the town of Amalfi from Atrani. Here's a map if it's all a bit confusing:

Ravello is further inland (barely), we descended to Atrani, and you can see how Amalfi is right next door.

We did this little walk quite a bit, since it only takes 15 minutes. You walk up tiny narrow corridors between stucco housing, laundry hanging out to dry above you and handwoven rope doormats below you as you come across little, brightly painted doorways (the entry to someone's little apartment). Occasionally in the tunnels and under the arches we would see a shrine embedded in the white wall, to Mary or some other saint, with fresh flowers in a little vase and an electric light bulb brightly lit. We climbed and climbed step after step until finally the path leveled out, and we emerged from the housing buildings, walking and hugging the cliffside and passing someone's sloping lemon grove on the left, and cactus garden to the right. 

We went again into the covered white plaster walls of the alleyway and between living spaces before descending into the town of Amalfi:

The view from where we emerged between houses

We walked down the steps and looked out over the beach:

It is a lot bigger than Atrani, with more tourists. There are places here that have been open since the 1930s, when Greta Garbo wined and dined in the area. 

In Amalfi there is most notably the cathedral of St Andrew the Apostle. He was crucified in the mid- to late- 1st century A.D. in Patras. The tradition is that he was crucified on an X-shaped cross. In the 1200s, his relics were brought to Amalfi and the cathedral was built. The tower and facade have amazing mosaics that glitter in the afternoon sun:

Combined with the glittering ocean, it's a sight to behold. It doesn't look like a lot of steps, but a lot of steps lead up to the cathedral, and we got to go up through the courtyard, where they had big, incomplete pieces of art and engraved marble that they found on a recent excavation.  

This is the inner courtyard, which was really peaceful:

The inside of the church was stunning: 

Underneath this statue of him, beneath the altar, is where his remains are.

I definitely stopped to reflect and be grateful for the fact that in 2014, I have seen the burial places of 3 apostles! Peter, Paul (for me, he counts) and now Andrew. 

We went out for lunch at Il Tari' (find the website here) in Amalfi, and then geared up for the steep, sweaty hike back up to Ravello. 

We embarked

An example of some of the steep narrow steps. This was at least 1,000 feet UP these steps, straight up from Amalfi, you can see the white blur of Amalfi down below.

We did not go back up the Valley of the Dragon, but rather went up around this Villa:

We found the motto for Wolfson College! (see photo below) 

"Humani nil a me alienum puto…" meaning "I find nothing human to be alien to me"

I thought this tower at the Villa was pretty cool:

Villa Cimbrone was built by some rich British guy back in the 1800s. He was old and had a wildly pretentious name. Turns out he wanted a good view and had tons of money with which to find and claim one. The Villa part was nice, but the best part by far was the gardens and the view. If you have ever been to Meditation Mount in Ojai, California, then imagine that on steroids and maybe you'll come close to this (without all the annoying hippie mantras carved into the rocks). It had a similar vibe.

Some more photos around the villa:

The famous view with the heads.

I swear I was happy? just trying not to get blinded

the mountains were ridiculous

After the Villa Cimbrone, we arrived back in Ravello via long pathways and more alleyways. We passed a homeowner's backyard vineyard. I groaned with jealousy:

These sorts of painted tiles govern every doorway:

The alleyways whose beauty I can't describe:

The statue of St. Francis (who travelled here!) with a kitty perched on the right, at his feet:

These cats have the right idea:

A sign for the Cosmos and Damian church in Ravello:

...and saw the Villa Rufolo, which is actually from the 1200s and so was really a sight to behold. This was the view:

And the freaking old entrance to the Villa:

When you look at the narrow road, and the fact that the garbage man STILL takes a pack mule up the narrow alleyways to collect the weeks trash, it is astonishing to imagine how on earth they built a magnificent villa and church in the 1200s. The marble and mosaics and tiles....the thought of transporting them makes my legs wobble.

We had a nice siesta back at the B&B and Luigi, the owner, came over to us as we were reading on the patio and offered us homemade limoncello from their own lemons.

Lord, give me strength. This stuff went down like moonshine (not that I would know about moonshine, but I am from the old dominion). 

cheers!

He then brought a shot of espresso and that was a wonderful chaser. I prayed my intestines would forgive me, which I knew they would, and we continued relaxing until it was time to walk up for dinner.

We ate at a restaurant called Da Salvatore. The view was amazing. The whole place had an old Hollywood feel to it, and it has been in continuous business since the 1950s. A lot of celebrities back then vacationed here, so the feeling made sense.

Snuck in a shot of the restaurant without looking too awkward, I hope

I had smoked grouper fish with cauliflower purée:

It reminds me of the "depressing, dimly-lit meals for one" photo series on Buzzfeed

and then a beef steak with tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. 
Max ate gnocchi with a bittersweet chocolate sauce:

it looks monstrously horrifying, but it tasted lovely

And he followed that with veal. Highly recommend this place. All while we were eating, these curious noises came from around a corner. First it sounded just like a dog barking, then it was weird little Italian phrases. It didn't take long for us to put together that there was parrot in the restaurant! He was a cute little guy:

He didn't know English.

As noted, we stayed below the town though so every time we went to the town square or restaurants like Da Salvatore we needed to climb almost 1,000 stone steps. I was grateful we had to go up to the town rather than down. Going up just means you get more of an appetite before eating, then you have a pleasant walk down afterwards. The alternative- goodness! I can't even think about it.