After our looooong travel day to the Amalfi Coast, Flo and I decided that 
we would take it easy on public transportation the next day. Vincenzo told us there was a spot just down the road from our place where it would take us about 1 hour to hike down the hill to reach the little town of Positano. We set off after breakfast and came upon Vincenzo in his car, he told us to get in and drove us to the trail head, then proceeded to walk down partway with us talking the whole way about this and that, pointing to the Bay of Naples, the Bay of Salerno, the towns, the church, etc. He snapped some photos of Flo and I and then sent us off.
It was a nice hike, switchbacks the whole way down the hill, and the air was clean and fresh. By 10:00 it was HOT and we were glad to have water and sunscreen. Suddenly we came upon a couple sitting in the shade who said, "where do you come from?" In a very good mood I threw up my hands and cried, "America!" at which point my feet started sliding down the hill unbeknownst to the rest of my body, and I very ungracefully halted inches from his feet. He lunged forward to catch me, and when all was well, he said, "I meant where do you come from right now?" Embarrassing, or patriotic, you decide.
It took us 1.5 hours to hike all the way to the town. Positano is a pedestrian town because all the roads, alleys, and streets that go through it are steps. The colorful houses are stacked on top of one another all up the hillside, just like your typical Italian coastal village on the Mediterranean. We reached the beach in another half hour, and swallowed the $$ we had to pay to access it. I immediately stripped my socks and shoes so I could experience the beach with all my senses, and regretted it as soon as I stepped onto the black sand which had been absorbing the sun's heat all morning. In the middle of a long row of chairs, halfway between the two boardwalks, I was committed--I started running, but every step was hotter than the last! When I finally made it onto the boardwalk, there were tears in my eyes and my feet were blistered, but that made the sea feel even better.
We swam, slept, and relaxed all day long (taking care to put our feet only on the shaded sand), and at 4:30 decided to pack up and begin the trek home. We stopped by the tobacco shop to buy our bus tickets to Vico Equense and marched up to the top of the hill to the bus stop. Once at the top, there were no signs about what buses passed by, times, nothing. I asked someone who looked like a local which side of the street we should wait on for Vico Equense. In a torrent of Italian he said we were on the right side and we should look for the bus to META. Every single bus that came was going either to Sorrento or Amalfi, no Meta, no Vico. I asked EVERY SINGLE driver if they went to Vico. All said no. One said that bus would come in 20 minutes. After 2 hours of waiting, Flo and I were hot, tired, and thoroughly disgusted. I hailed a cab and asked him how much to Santa Maria del Castello. He said 90 Euros. We said no thanks and crossed that option off our list.
Back down the hill we stopped in tourist info again to explain our situation. She said the bus to Meta had long since left, and we had some options.. we could either take the hour long bus to Sorrento and then take the train to Vico, or we could take the local bus to a certain point and then hike the rest of the way up the hill, but it was getting dark and there would be no lights. We had thought about walking back up, but weren't sure we would find the trail again. Close to tears we asked the girl to please call Vincenzo and tell him we'd be late to dinner AGAIN. When she got off the phone she said that if we RAN back up the hill, we could catch the next bus to Sorrento. If we missed it, there wouldn't be one for another hour.
So we ran for about 3 minutes uphill, and then had to stop because of the hoardes of tourists in the narrow streets and the fact that we were wheezing. We made it on the bus to Sorrento, made it on the train to Vico, and then before getting on the 9:40 pm bus to Santa Maria del Castello, we had to go in search of a prepaid calling card so we could telephone them to pick us up. When we finally got to the tobacco shop (we had to ask directions twice), I asked for a prepaid calling card for the public phone, and he just shook his head and said "molto dificile" (very difficult). Apparently nobody sells them. I don't know what use the phones are in that case, but who am I? Just an American tourist. In desperation we went into the bar next door, hurriedly and cryptically told the bartender our sad tale, and then I begged him to let me borrow his cell phone. We told Vincenzo that we wouldn't be able to call at the top of the hill, but would be getting the next bus and arrive in about 45 minutes. We dashed out of the bar and back down the street to the train station, and as we did, our bus passed by going up the hill.
Incredulous, we walked into the train station and asked when the next bus to S. Maria del Castello would leave and the man shook his head, confirmed that one had just left, and said the next and LAST one for the night left in an hour at 10:40 pm. We sat on the pavement outside the empty train station fighting back tears, when Flo suggested we take a cab up the hill. Renewed, we bounded up again and walked backwards up the main road to the center of town to catch one on the way. We got to town and I stood on the corner waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Finally a turned to a guy standing on the sidewalk and asked if it was ok to catch a taxi like this or if I had to go to a taxi stand. He looked sorry for us when he said that Vico doesn't have taxis.
Thoroughly defeated and frustrated beyond words, we needed gelatto. STAT. In the gelatto shop we again explained our sad tale to the 17 year old girl behind the counter and pleaded with her for her cell phone. We ended up waiting there while Vincenzo came to rescue us AGAIN. We exchanged email addresses with the girl and rode back home with Vincenzo speaking his Italian louder than ever.
Not fully having command of a language when someone is giving you directions means you might miss a few key details--like the fact that you can't get to Vico Equense by bus. Only train. So we waited in Positano for 2 hours for a bus that didn't exist. Probably this information was also in the torrent of Italian that the local at the bus stop told me, but again, details. Over dinner, at 11:00 that night with the staff that had stuck around to feed us, Vincenzo wrote directions down for all of the cities that we could possibly want to see during the rest of the trip.
We made SURE not to let anything happen to that precious piece of paper.
we would take it easy on public transportation the next day. Vincenzo told us there was a spot just down the road from our place where it would take us about 1 hour to hike down the hill to reach the little town of Positano. We set off after breakfast and came upon Vincenzo in his car, he told us to get in and drove us to the trail head, then proceeded to walk down partway with us talking the whole way about this and that, pointing to the Bay of Naples, the Bay of Salerno, the towns, the church, etc. He snapped some photos of Flo and I and then sent us off.
It was a nice hike, switchbacks the whole way down the hill, and the air was clean and fresh. By 10:00 it was HOT and we were glad to have water and sunscreen. Suddenly we came upon a couple sitting in the shade who said, "where do you come from?" In a very good mood I threw up my hands and cried, "America!" at which point my feet started sliding down the hill unbeknownst to the rest of my body, and I very ungracefully halted inches from his feet. He lunged forward to catch me, and when all was well, he said, "I meant where do you come from right now?" Embarrassing, or patriotic, you decide.It took us 1.5 hours to hike all the way to the town. Positano is a pedestrian town because all the roads, alleys, and streets that go through it are steps. The colorful houses are stacked on top of one another all up the hillside, just like your typical Italian coastal village on the Mediterranean. We reached the beach in another half hour, and swallowed the $$ we had to pay to access it. I immediately stripped my socks and shoes so I could experience the beach with all my senses, and regretted it as soon as I stepped onto the black sand which had been absorbing the sun's heat all morning. In the middle of a long row of chairs, halfway between the two boardwalks, I was committed--I started running, but every step was hotter than the last! When I finally made it onto the boardwalk, there were tears in my eyes and my feet were blistered, but that made the sea feel even better.
We swam, slept, and relaxed all day long (taking care to put our feet only on the shaded sand), and at 4:30 decided to pack up and begin the trek home. We stopped by the tobacco shop to buy our bus tickets to Vico Equense and marched up to the top of the hill to the bus stop. Once at the top, there were no signs about what buses passed by, times, nothing. I asked someone who looked like a local which side of the street we should wait on for Vico Equense. In a torrent of Italian he said we were on the right side and we should look for the bus to META. Every single bus that came was going either to Sorrento or Amalfi, no Meta, no Vico. I asked EVERY SINGLE driver if they went to Vico. All said no. One said that bus would come in 20 minutes. After 2 hours of waiting, Flo and I were hot, tired, and thoroughly disgusted. I hailed a cab and asked him how much to Santa Maria del Castello. He said 90 Euros. We said no thanks and crossed that option off our list.
Back down the hill we stopped in tourist info again to explain our situation. She said the bus to Meta had long since left, and we had some options.. we could either take the hour long bus to Sorrento and then take the train to Vico, or we could take the local bus to a certain point and then hike the rest of the way up the hill, but it was getting dark and there would be no lights. We had thought about walking back up, but weren't sure we would find the trail again. Close to tears we asked the girl to please call Vincenzo and tell him we'd be late to dinner AGAIN. When she got off the phone she said that if we RAN back up the hill, we could catch the next bus to Sorrento. If we missed it, there wouldn't be one for another hour.
So we ran for about 3 minutes uphill, and then had to stop because of the hoardes of tourists in the narrow streets and the fact that we were wheezing. We made it on the bus to Sorrento, made it on the train to Vico, and then before getting on the 9:40 pm bus to Santa Maria del Castello, we had to go in search of a prepaid calling card so we could telephone them to pick us up. When we finally got to the tobacco shop (we had to ask directions twice), I asked for a prepaid calling card for the public phone, and he just shook his head and said "molto dificile" (very difficult). Apparently nobody sells them. I don't know what use the phones are in that case, but who am I? Just an American tourist. In desperation we went into the bar next door, hurriedly and cryptically told the bartender our sad tale, and then I begged him to let me borrow his cell phone. We told Vincenzo that we wouldn't be able to call at the top of the hill, but would be getting the next bus and arrive in about 45 minutes. We dashed out of the bar and back down the street to the train station, and as we did, our bus passed by going up the hill.
Incredulous, we walked into the train station and asked when the next bus to S. Maria del Castello would leave and the man shook his head, confirmed that one had just left, and said the next and LAST one for the night left in an hour at 10:40 pm. We sat on the pavement outside the empty train station fighting back tears, when Flo suggested we take a cab up the hill. Renewed, we bounded up again and walked backwards up the main road to the center of town to catch one on the way. We got to town and I stood on the corner waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Finally a turned to a guy standing on the sidewalk and asked if it was ok to catch a taxi like this or if I had to go to a taxi stand. He looked sorry for us when he said that Vico doesn't have taxis.
Thoroughly defeated and frustrated beyond words, we needed gelatto. STAT. In the gelatto shop we again explained our sad tale to the 17 year old girl behind the counter and pleaded with her for her cell phone. We ended up waiting there while Vincenzo came to rescue us AGAIN. We exchanged email addresses with the girl and rode back home with Vincenzo speaking his Italian louder than ever.
Not fully having command of a language when someone is giving you directions means you might miss a few key details--like the fact that you can't get to Vico Equense by bus. Only train. So we waited in Positano for 2 hours for a bus that didn't exist. Probably this information was also in the torrent of Italian that the local at the bus stop told me, but again, details. Over dinner, at 11:00 that night with the staff that had stuck around to feed us, Vincenzo wrote directions down for all of the cities that we could possibly want to see during the rest of the trip.
We made SURE not to let anything happen to that precious piece of paper.
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