Amalfi: Damn Yankees – Lost in Translation

♦Guest Post by Kari Mayhew♦

After four fun filled days in Madrid (where I learned ham is its own food group, Real Madrid is more important than the Holy Trinity and hobo beers on a bridge while watching a pigeon take a bath was exactly where I wanted to be), I was primed for more good times and headed to Italy to meet up with Alysia, Jimmy and another friend Jen from Boston. The four of us would be gallivanting along the Amalfi coast by land and by sea. Learning enough Italian to make locals respond in English. Narrowly avoiding life-altering crashes on a daily basis. And washing it all down with a healthy dose of Prosecco.

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What Goes Up…

After landing in Naples, I learned of the previous night’s earthquake. Thanks to everyone who asked if we (all of us got messages from home) were ok and thoughts go out to those who were impacted. I met Jen outside baggage claim (hooray for the lack of tedious customs procedures) and we found our driver who would be our connection to the coast.

It’s truly an art driving on these roads. Or a death wish. Both equally beautiful and unpredictable. To sum up the hour+ ride: Whoa! Hold on! Yikes that was close! Did he see us? Oh I’m gonna be sick. My eyes are closed. Amen.

Our guy dropped us off in the town square and distinctly pointed up the main street and said – ‘your apartment up there. Easy to find. On left side.’

Great. No problem. We have a map. Commence walking on wobbly cobble stones, with 64 pounds of luggage in the blazing sun. (Note to summer destination travelers – never wear jeans on the plane. Ever.)

Little did we know…the “street” we were looking for 

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The best way I can describe the next 30 minutes is – pretend you are watching the Amazing Race and your favorite team is searching for Phil. You know where Phil is, Phil knows where Phil is, but these guys wouldn’t find Phil if Beyonce’s marriage to Jay Z depended on it.

Let me explain.

There is but one main street in Amalfi. But for those who have been to small European towns, the lack of signage is, to say the least, lacking. So we walked up. And UP. UP UP UP. Looking for our street name on the left. We quickly were past the tourist shops and venturing into local territory. Mind you, Jen is wearing heels. Pulling luggage up a cobblestone road. Mad props. I stopped to ask a guy where our street was, and he said – 9 minutes – and pointed up the hill. OK. We Can Do It!

Six minutes later we see a sign for Hotel Lara and Jen says – “Oh I remember its three minutes from here”. Great! UP and UP and UP. Jen has to pee and luckily there is a public restroom. (Side note: had we actually been on the Amazing Race, and I quite honestly think we would crush it, she would not be allowed to stop. But alas, we are on vacation. Comfort wins.)

Where was I? Oh right, we were dripping in sweat, hunched over from the strain of over packing, and yelling JIMMY every 60 seconds in hopes of being rescued. When we finally reached the top, google maps actually had the gall to tell us that our apartment was 9 minutes BACK DOWN THE HILL. At this point I think we collapsed in laughter. Welcome to Italy.

Heading back down the hill, we must have looked, well, like two very lost Americans, and a guy who bore a close resemblance to Danny DeVito, asked where we needed to go. Turns out he knew our AirBnB hostess and made a call. At that point another guy, who was just hot (no other way to say it ladies), came over. I guess not much exciting stuff happens up the hill. Anyway, another phone call and a very vivid conversation later, we are in a Volvo heading down the hill.

Since it’s not possible to make this story any longer, I’ll wrap it up by saying, we finally met Jimmy and Alysia. And our apartment in Amalfi, all 134 steps up, was ridiculous. 

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The Mountain and the Moron

One day, while the Lovgrens were working, Jen and I set out on a historical adventure to see both Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius. Since you are likely jet-lagged from reading this far, I’ll sum up this adventure pretty quickly. (I tend to write that prior to actually writing the section, so probably a lie.

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I learned many things while visiting the once great city of Pompeii and I’ll share those things now. These facts are derived from one-part tour guide knowledge, one-part personal spin and a generous sprinkle of bull crap.

  1. Rich Roman people invented bulimia. Sorry… maybe that was too bold a fact to start with. But really. Truth. They would scarf down a huge meal and then use a goose feather to cough it up and start again. And here you thought barfing wasn’t classy.
  2. The Romans invented everything in general. From fast food and highway cat eyes, to interior decorating and oppression. Most things we lay claim to and think our countrymen have contributed to society can actually be traced back to this community. And for those who play sports, watch sports or just appreciate a good photo of Cam Newton taking a soak, they invented the ice bath as well.
  3. Their horses all had Jiffy Feet. You may ask, what are Jiffy Feet. Legit question. They can also be called Kangaroo Feet or Sheetz Feet. They refer to the black soles, or just general disgustingness, of your feet should you do the unthinkable and walk into a gas station sans shoes. (Think Brittany Spears) Back in the day of Pompeii they dumped all their waste, literally, into the street. And while pedestrians had sidewalks and cross walks to be above the fray, our poor equestrian companions were forced to stand in the muck. Hence Jiffy Footed horses.

I also learned quite a bit about the She Wolves who worked the brothels. But that my friends is a bit un-PG, and I’ll save it for a good chat over dinner as we discuss the menu.

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Our day ended with a trip to Mt. Vesuvius. While describing it to our group, and letting us know we would have about 90 minutes to explore, we had a question from a Danish woman – ‘Is the path paved, and is it quite hilly?’  The response from our guide ‘it’s a volcano’. *mike drop*

According to experts, meaning our tour guide who read it on the internet, it’s set to explode again in seven years. Hold on to your hats people.

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The Serenade of Uncle DeVito

One of the highlights (classify this one under ‘weird’ and not ‘spectacular’) was trucking back up the Amalfi hill to show Alysia and Jimmy how far off we were from finding the apartment and to have dinner at our savior’s restaurant.   He told us about the live music on Sundays, so we were excited to mix with the locals away from the tourist crowds. He immediately recognized us, hugged us in that awkward ‘you kinda used to be my favorite Uncle when I was 6, but I’m all grown up now’ way, and let us pick our table. Considering the place was vacant (uh…thought this was supposed to be the hopping Sunday night local spot), we chose the one near the giant stone head. Wouldn’t you?

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The waiter who came to help us spoke no English. At that point in the trip, we thought we had gotten pretty good at ordering things we like in Italian, ie pointing to it on the menu. But somehow when he walked away, we were quite unsure of what he actually would be bringing back.

As we discussed the fact that we just got bait and switched, the soft chords of a Beatles classic began to fill the room.   We looked up from our huddle and saw an old man at the Casio keyboard, beginning to belt out the first verse, wildly off key.

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It was amazing. In that same way that my mom’s tuna casserole is amazing. It makes you squint your eyes in hopes of recognition and is served up from a memory older than Dan Rooney. But, bottom line, amazing.

The hits kept on coming and eventually so did our meal. After a little trouble claiming our right plates, the meal turned out pretty good. And as every good Italian one does, ended with Uncle DeVito pouring us some Limoncello from his own stash.

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The moral of the story kids, is that people ARE good. They will help you when you need it and you should thank them accordingly. Even if you do have to climb back up a hill to do it. You might even get a personal concert of American Bandstand’s greatest hits in the process.

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The next chapter

The Lovgrens were kind enough to let me babble on for another post, because, well that’s about all I’m good at. Stay tuned for more adventures!

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