Amalfi with the Lovgrens – Impossible!

♦Guest post by Kari Mayhew♦

After just a few days in Italy, it was very clear that the Italians liked to, well, test you a bit. Serve you bread early and see if you scarf it down or (the right way) save it to mop up your sauce.  Have multiple buses narrowly miss mowing you down in the town square, yet make it trickier than a Nancy Drew novel to actually ride one. But, for two future winning Amazing Race contestants (duh you read my other blog right?) and two seasoned Italian almost-citizens, piece of cake.

Path of Gods Starts Here. No, Here. No, Here.

The Path of Gods came highly recommended from both Rick Steves and my friend Will. The former being a pillar in the travel community, and the latter a guy who once dared me to drink an entire bottle of Mad Dog. So of course we were going to do it. Turned out that the first Sunday in Amalfi would be the ideal day.

Saturday night, at approximately 10 PM we started to plan the day. I decided to glance at the bus schedule. Forty-seven minutes later I looked up from my computer that now had 8 tabs and no less than 3 PDF files opened. Each of which gave me about as much information about the bus schedule than had I shaken a Magic 8 Ball.

I slowly uttered… “Jimmy????”

After much discussion and some swearing, we finally figured out what the random smattering of the alphabet actually meant. Or we were kinda sorta sure that we did. The odds were in our favor that we could catch a bus at 8 am the next day. After much groaning from the peanut gallery on the early wake up, it was declared that we would be up and smiling and ready at 7:30. Plenty of time to go to the Tabacchi Shop and buy a ticket. (Thanks for that ticket tip, Rick Steves).

Next morning. Up and ready. Stunning views here we come.

But the first Tabacchi didn’t sell tickets. And the second wasn’t open yet. No problem. Lets just go to the bus stop and get one from the machine. Or not. Only parking tickets from the machine. No problem, lets just go ask one of the bus drivers hanging out in the square.

The conversation went something like this:

Jimmy: “Is this where we get the bus to Agerola?”

Bus driver: “Agerola??  Yes…”

Jimmy: “Great…can we buy tickets on the bus?”

Bus driver “tickets?”

Jimmy: “yes, when the bus stops here?”

Bus driver: “Yes, bus stops here…but for you???  Impossible!!”

A few minutes passed while this actually sunk in. Did this guy just throw down the gauntlet? Impossible? Not for the fearsome foursome. Tickets. Four of them. We got this.

Well, actually, we just kept asking people until someone told us we could buy them in the café. But back to that fearsome foursome thing…. In Amalfi you just buy a bus ticket, no destination, no fare, just a ticket. So as the passengers started to accumulate in the square, don’t think for one second we didn’t have a sound strategy to throw some elbows and ensure our seat on this bus.

The hike started from this little town on top of a mountain called Agerola. We actually considered a quick gelato stop due to all the madness the morning had already brought. But we marched on to the entrance of the hike.

This was going to be amazing. Cobble stones, houses carved into the hills, a random goat hitched up to a fence post.

We were in good spirits and ready to be in awe of the coastal views. And then we came upon this. The entrance to the hike?

Hmmm. Did we not already start the hike? Are we sure we are on the hike? Is there more than one hike? Surely we did not complete the hike and this is the other side? Ahh those tricky Italians! Soldier on kids!

And entrance sign #3…Ok this was a little ridiculous.

The hike was amazing. Simply awesome. And I say that because we recited most of the Princess Bride movie and discussed the most advantageous escape tactics from rabid dogs. Jimmy was in desperate need of male companionship. Trust me.

The hike ended with 1700 steps. (notice the small writing above Jimmy’s head)

Granted they were heading down, but still SEVENTEEN HUNDRED steps. It was madness. And my quads still quiver at the thought. But then we had lunch with a view. The perfect ending!

A Three Hour Tour

One of the best ways to see the Amalfi Coast is on a boat. Sure you can buy a ticket for a ferry and chug along with 300 others, vying for space on the rail to capture a photo or plunking down in a plastic seat to squint through dirty windows. Not us. (OK yes us, we did take the ferry several times) BUT, we rented a boat. Our own private boat, driver not included. This meant that our lives and our futures were in the hands of Captain James. But we had our own boat!!

When our vessel arrived at the dock we nimbly jumped in. (white lie) Immediately us three girls whooped it up and headed to the sun deck out front, leaving Jimmy to learn operational things. We asked the guy who dropped off our boat for some ideas on what to see or do – his answer, after spending his life on these waters, was ‘uhhh turn right’. Thanks.

So off we went, just four free spirits ready to explore the coast!

Across the bluest water, under the cloudless sky and over the highest wakes we went! I can’t even tell you how amazing the coast was. Every so often one of us would squeal and point – SEE THAT!!!??  And there would be a secret beach, a winding staircase, a cave house, a mafia boat, a lone cabana, a shark (kidding).

We stopped to swim for a bit and it was awesome. Alysia and I even got in some freestyle, greatly hindered by improper suits, flowing locks and gulps of saltwater. The feeling of bobbing in the Med, with cliffs jutting straight up to touch the azure sky, an ocean floor clearly visible and seemingly in reach, and your best friends right there: Priceless. It’s something I will never forget.

We had been told by our ever present trip references (i.e. Rick and Will) that there are restaurants along the coast that, if you anchor your boat in the harbor, will send a tender out to get you and bring you in to eat. Was it merely a myth? Was it reserved for only a special few? More importantly, would my sea legs hold up?

We staked out what we thought was a great option, a little side beach east of Positano.

Jimmy deftly maneuvered the boat into the harbor and we anchored. BTW Jen was an ace! She lowered and retrieved that darn thing like a pro. And then Jimmy, being the biggest one on the boat, was charged with flagging down the little guy in the tender. In some secret language that I swear only guys and dogs know, the two communicated and suddenly we were next in line.

The tender pulled up and the guy tells us that if we want to eat its about a 30 minute wait. No problem. I am sure we can waste thirty minutes at a bar on a beach. We head over to the restaurant, which by the way, is totally open air, right on the water and BUSY! The lady at the bar tells us there are no tables and we will have to wait a long time. Hmmmmm.

Then a guy, who we figured out later is the owner, comes over to us and asks if we are waiting. He starts to reiterate the busyness of the day, “Ya know guys, we are very…. WAIT!” and he looks down at Jimmy’s wrist. “You have a great watch!” and shows us his wrist. Twinsies!

“You sit here.”

Yep we got seated straight away because apparently guy code says that identical accessories = BFF.

And the food was incredible. And the view was ridiculous. And the day on the boat was spectacular

I Wanna Dance with Somebody

My past and present collided on this trip and the impact was nothing short of spectacular. A good friend from college, Will, is working up in Naples (congrats on the new job!) and came down for a night. (Yep, same guy from the Mad Dog story above). It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but didn’t matter, we caught stride right away and true to form, the man pulled a bottle of Prosecco out of his bag upon arrival. Solid entrance. He also insisted we all eat Nutella for breakfast the next day and pulled out a can. This guy is a pro.

So after a little beach time, the plan was to hit up a restaurant in Priano where Will knew the owner, and then roll into the famous Africana club for some late night action. Dinner started at 9:30 pm. Our roll would commence around midnight. Cinderella need not apply. The food was amazing. Simply amazing. Best ragu I’ve ever had. Hands down. It was really great to talk to some locals and get to know their perspective a bit.

So let’s talk a minute about Africana. It’s a club, in a cave, on the Med Sea. I’ll let that sink in for a minute because it is amazing. Let’s also mention the fact that I have now been clubbing two times in the past two weeks (with an average bed time of 5 am thank you) which is two more times than I have been in the past two decades. Don’t call it a comeback.

At the club, it’s hip hop ladies night and if you have ever seen Alysia drop it like its hot, you KNOW we are in for some fun. The four of us danced and drank and danced and laughed and danced. I’m pretty old school when it comes to music so drop a little Whitney Houston into the mix and it’s all over. So. Much. Fun.

Four AM appeared out of nowhere, and we all decided to head home. Because we are old. Will went to retrieve the car from where he parked it (basically in France) and we waited on the sidewalk. Us three girls taking selfies that will never see the light of day and Jimmy checking Eli’s Insta for fruitcake recipes.

Once back in Amalfi (Will you are a saint for driving!) we stumbled, literally, upon a vending machine. How many Americans does it take to get oreos to fall? Four. And only after a lot of coins and random button pressing. But …if you have never had foreign oreos you are truly missing a delicacy. Honestly. So freaking good. I also somewhat remember Jimmy gushing about a waffle thing… ‘it has vanilla cream!’ he exclaimed.

Bed time. The smart ones chugged water and found Advil. Others sent crazy text messages that totally made sense at the time. (Ok that part was me). I’m happy to report there was nary a classy Roman in sight that night or the following day. High five guys!

Oh, and that Nutella the next day, priceless.