Amalfi Coast
John Steinbeck, in 1953, arrived in Positano fleeing the heat and insane traffic of Rome and defined it as follows: “ It's a dream place that doesn't seem real when you're there, but its profound reality catches you with all the nostalgia in the world when you are gone”. Nothing seems to have changed. The two-way winding road remains stunningly beautiful and superlatively difficult, especially in summer when tour buses force you to back up, stop, do rally stunts to get past without falling off a cliff. None of that matters, because the landscape is superb; the friendly and gesticulating Neapolitans and the people of the Coast seem full of energy and a definite certainty: the entire Coast was declared UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997.
We arrive in Positano at noon, heat and color of bougainvillea, white hibiscus flowers, yellow daisies, purple azaleas. Positano is the town with the most stories on the Amalfi Coast , and surely the most sophisticated, because, along with Capri, it is home to the best of the international jet set, characters with villas suspended from the cliffs, so secret that you have to go by boat to see them. Seen by day, Positano looks like a huge Mediterranean nativity scene with white, pink and ocher houses that adorn the mountain in a balanced way. History says that Positano was born in the 9th century around a Benedictine abbey, became overpopulated in the 10th century with the arrival of the inhabitants of Paestum, and was later destroyed by the Saracens. In 1268 it was sacked by the Pisans and this forced its inhabitants to redesign the city and make it defensive in the manner of Amalfi. Narrow streets perched on the mountain, fortifications, defensive towers, souks.
In Montepertuso Upstairs, there is a small and cool neighborhood where the townspeople spend the summer and, downstairs, around La Piazza dei Mulini, there is the bustling and cosmopolitan Positano that sees us arrive after going around the whole town with the car. More than thirty years ago I was a regular in Positano, where I came from the not very distant – it's a euphemism, because here to do forty kilometers takes two hours – Marina di Cantone, where my family had a house next to this same sea . Positano was the mecca, 'the most', the meeting point. What remains.
From the Hotel Le Sirenuse they still have The best views , especially since those magical islets shine opposite, Li Galli, described by Homer as the islands where the sirens who lost Ulysses lived. Telxiepia it was the most bewitching; Pisinoe, the seductress and Aglaope, the most persuasive and enchantress, the one who deceived sailors and navigators for centuries. Rudolf Nureyef bought the islets to house contemporary mermaids dressed in Pucci or Gucci; it is currently also privately owned. They were always glamorous islands, I think, drinking a fresh strawberry juice on the panoramic terrace of the Le Sirenuse hotel, facing the Grande Beach full of hammocks and with the dock for boats that take you to Capri or Amalfi (or wherever you want, never forget that Italians are wizards of customer service) impregnating my eyes with this sea between blue and turquoise. A caprese salad (tomato, mozzarella and basil) at Le Sirenuse and a glass in hand seem like the best recipe for happiness.
Everything is perfect in the company of the Marquis Franco Sensale, owner together with his son Antonio of this emblematic hotel that really is much more than a hotel, it is one of the best symbols of Positano, and that he himself takes care of every detail, as responsible for the decor. In each room there is period furniture bought from antique dealers around the world , porcelain floors inspired by models from five hundred years ago and made especially for them, a line of bathroom amenities with an incredible design, the work of Franco's niece. The other niece does the gardening with true English care. We are on the terrace and a mega movie star passes us. Nobody looks at him. Privacy is absolute, it is key.
Well mixed with the friendliness of the staff and the good hand of Matteo Temperini at the La Sponda restaurant, the star chef that this CN Traveler photographer had met a year ago at a gastronomy conference at La Mamounia in Marrakesh and in Abu Dhabi. The current of sympathy extends to the kitchen, where more than twenty people have a great time between smoky stoves. I like that desire they put into it, that joy when decorating each dish, that Mediterranean energy. This team reflects something that is very important if you want to eat well in a place: the good relationship between the people in the kitchen and the dining room. The family photo is eloquent.
Strolling through Positano at sunset is a healthy exercise. You find out what it takes, what you need to know. Stop and shop at the mythical I Sapori di Positano store, an authentic temple to lemons, which here takes the form of limoncello liqueur , candies, candles, home and personal perfumes, ceramic objects and everything you want to carry in your suitcase. Sandals are another sin that I can't resist (I'm talking about buying four pairs at 80 euros each, which is still a whim).
In Via del Sarraceno street I meet Todisco Carmine , a craftsman determined to put turquoise on sandals for a girl who looks like a Vogue model and surely is. I wait patiently for my turn, and indecision grips me. What if with red stones, what if black and white crystals. It's the bad thing about abundance, that in the end your understanding dizzy. My private craftsman measures my foot and tells me to come back in half an hour. In half an hour all these wonders! I know that almost all women have a weakness for shoes. Ladies, notice to navigators, here you will find the paradise of shopping, and the purgatory of the Visa at the end of the month.
The Via dei Mulini It is the street where shops, bars and the Hotel Palazzo Murat are concentrated, with a nice restaurant and balconies covered with bougainvillea that seem to come out of Romeo and Juliet . There is also the Franco Senesi art gallery, where works by the best Italian and international artists are exhibited. Higher up, on Viale Pasitea, the fashion shops "made in Positano" are concentrated, in linen, cotton and silk in colors designed for this sun and this sea. We entered Pepito's Positano and it was love at first sight.
Loaded and somewhat angry that my weaknesses are stronger than me, I went down to Playa Grande, where pizzerias and restaurants are concentrated. The animation is complete. You have to remember that Positano lives its crazy life from April to October. Afterwards, calm takes over the place, hotels and venues close, leaving their powerful presence to the sea and the sky. They tell me that you eat well at Chez Black, and judging by the number of people that crowd the tables, I believe it.
Sitting waiting for a little boat that will take me to nearby Praiano, I think that in the first century, in the time of Tiberius, in the Positano Big Beach docked the trireme that was to collect the flour to bake the emperor's bread, who feared being poisoned with the flour from Capri. The mill where the imperial bread was ground was on one of the slopes of the Positano hill, and the emperor's loving slaves were the only ones appointed to touch the flour. They tell me that in the 50s of the last century the mill was modernized, but I have not been able to find it. Imperial secrets still guard this magnetic villa. Before I walked to the white cemetery, on top of a hill, where the tomb of a pasha stands, which is an obelisk crowned with a marble turban. To my feet, Fornillo beach it seems to enter the sea like the pointing finger of a classical god. I begin to understand Steinbeck's nostalgia, to feel it like a tickle in my heart.
Climbing stairs is an exercise that keeps your mind in check and your legs in shape. In all the Amalfi Coast You have to go down and up, up and down. That is why I find it a delight to sit on one of the benches that surround the esplanade of the Mother Church, Santa Maria Assunta, with a 13th century collegiate church that stands in the middle of the town and dominates the beach. Here I will meet the architect Diego Guarino and with him I will have the privilege of entering Villa Romana, an archaeological work that is hidden under this cathedral.
We continue our trip to Praiano, a town with all the meanings of this Costa Divina. Halfway there is the San Pietro a Positano , a Relais & Châteaux that lives up to its label. Luxury, attention to detail, breathtaking views and gastronomy with French perfection and exquisite local products. The rooms are so spacious that I can dance without bumping into the furniture. The terrace opens onto the cliffs and, already in the hotel garden, I can unfold my emotions on the long tiled benches looking at Capri through the warm mists of this Tramonto ('sunset' in Italian).
Here there is an elevator to go down to the stone beach with a restaurant carved into the rock and a jetty to which guests arrive and from which they depart towards the immediate Positano. I stay for a while reading and thinking while I see a kayak doing somersaults on the crystal clear water and above, camera in hand, the CN Traveler photographer tries the impossible: capture the image of a starfish in the background of this turquoise universe. The boys on the service do not take their eyes off him but they do not move a finger because there is no danger in sight. That's the way things are: attention and discretion.
We met with Vito Cinque, the owner of this place where serenity fills everything. He is young and carries the emotion of the Coast in his genes (his mother, owner, has kept the bastion of San Pietro very high over the years). Tonight we meet his chef, the Belgian Alois Vanlangenaeker , awarded a Michelin star, which is very fair to me when savoring his roast lamb with tomatoes from the land and lemon sauce, or his wonderful desserts.
Before the piano and the sax, a couple of American couples (from the North) dance a version of 'Strangers in the Night'. Here's to them because they look like they came out of a Coppola movie, and surely their roots lie in these lands, from which they emigrated a lot and with fortune to New York, Buenos Aires, Caracas... I'm already weaving stories. Right? As they would say around here: “se non vere, ben trovate”.
The hotel's tableware is ceramic from Vietri , a town near Salerno. It is so beautiful that I drowned out the voice of my conscience and went directly to Positano to buy plates and cups at the Cerámica Assunta store, which is the official supplier of the hotel. Negotiating with the photographer to carry some dishes in his suitcase was almost as laborious as the Warsaw Pact, and almost cost me a hefty overweight supplement. But now that I see them in my house, how beautiful they are and how well I did to bring them to me!
Pier of Hotel San Pietro in Positano
The sight of Praiano takes me back to my vacations when I was twenty, to those Neapolitan towns where the old ladies still go to church every day, the old men sit looking at the sea talking about their things like good conspirators and the young people fill the bars and cafes amid the noise of motorbikes and car horns. Total? Peace and noise. Air of jasmine and gasoline . Little food shops, a town hairdresser called Flora where they did my hair for thirteen euros and in the middle, omnipresent, the Duomo of San Gennaro, patron saint of Praiano, where in August the luminaries of Santo Domenico are held, a unique spectacle.
But let us not deceive ourselves with this simplicity, with this drowsiness of the Italian people; in the town of Praiano, which is between Positano and Amalfi, the most elegant and secret villas of the Amalfi Coast are chained. We were in one thanks to Janet D'Alesio, the tireless PR of the Hotel Caruso in Ravello. It is called Villa Lilly and it is the perfect example of what is hidden in the rocks of these cliffs. Seven bedrooms, seven bathrooms, several gardens, a main house with several rooms. Cleaning service, cook, maid, pool caretaker.
Thirty thousand euros a week . Julia Roberts had passed through here. I didn't want to ask – not to sound unworldly – who was coming next week. With prices more in line with the possibilities of the real world, a hundred meters from the town is Casa Angelina, modern, cute, a Mediterranean 'Delano' frequented by trendy fauna from all over the planet, with a perfect kitchen, white and minimalist. Discovering this hotel was a little secret that a good friend, Alejandro Bataller, who manages the destinations of our favorite Wellness Clinic in Alicante, the award-winning SHA, whispered in my ear.
I bought everything in Praiano: a raffia visor cap, a bathing suit, two bottles of wine from the area, a sweatshirt with the town's coat of arms. On the second day they treated me like one of the others and invited me to eat in the Gavitella cove, which is the town's beach, in a small restaurant, Cala Gavitella, where having a snack between bathing and bathing in the sea is more than just fun. On the road from Praiano to Amalfi there are also historic villas. The Villa Tre Ville, which was owned by Mikhail Semenoff, the Russian artist who housed the stars of the Russian ballets and Stravinsky there at the beginning of the 20th century, is a magical place. Three 19th century villas among lemon, orange, olive groves and orchards that reach almost to the edge of the sea. It is now owned by the Italian director Franco Zefirelli, that he still has them. Another epic house is Sofia Loren's, that she kept it until the death of her husband, Carlo Ponti. It is now owned by a Neapolitan businessman who arrives by helicopter (we have seen one land in awe on a cliff ledge).
We went to tour the Coast looking for the place where we would photograph the model on our cover. That's how we got to the Praia. A typical beach here. Rock, emerald sea and beach bars where you can always eat some fish from the area. We stayed in Da Alfonso and rented a traditional wooden boat called the Gozzo Sorrentino in La Sibilla. And between gentle waves we reach the spectacular Furore Fjord , which at the time was our favorite image. The only fjord in the Mediterranean, a 310 meter high cleft that ends in a beach that can also be accessed from the road by going down two hundred steps. The gorge is a deep wound in the mountain, excavated over time and by a torrent that descends from the Agerola plateau. At the foot, the secret beach that it was the refuge of the bandit Ruggeri di Agerola, protagonist of the tenth novel of the fourth day of the Decameron (Giovanni Boccaccio). The heretical Fray Diablo and the founder of the 'Sacconi' sect, Maco de Sacco, also hid here.
In the mid-1950s it was the love nest of an explosive couple, Anna Magnani and Roberto Rossellini, who lived passionate hours in one of the houses carved into the rock (exactly the pink house). There I decided that the photo of our cover would be taken and there we went three days (the first was cloudy, the second our model Natascia fell into the water and almost drowned and the third was the charm) to row in a boat of Luigi, the fisherman owner of the Al Monazeno bar-restaurant, the only one on Furore beach, where this Neapolitan pirate lets himself be seduced by the song of the sirens.
Elegant, discreet and musical, Ravello sits on a promontory above the sea. The story goes that almost 1,500 years ago some patrician families of Rome fled from barbarian threats and found this natural fortress 350 meters high, between the Dragone and Regina valleys. 900 years ago Ravello was already an important commercial center of the Mediterranean and, thanks to Pope Victor III, it became an episcopal seat, with majestic palaces, gardens and villas. Quiet and intelligent, the town submitted to the Amalfi republic and later to Roger the Norman. But it fell under the boot of the Pisans, who devastated it in retaliation for siding with Amalfi, which was at war with the Tuscans.
Ravello's silent splendor might today be a heap of ruins, but the villa is preserved almost intact thanks to the impulse –and the money– of aristocratic families in love with this divine promontory. At Villa Cimbrone, the English Lord Grimthorpe wanted to thank the city for having been cured of a severe depression. He acquired one end of the promontory, created a huge garden, restored the old ruins and built one of the best-preserved palaces in southern Italy, today also a luxury hotel. Villa Rufolo Acquired in 1851 by Francis Neville Reids, a Scottish millionaire, it became Ravello's second bastion of beauty, with its gardens and terraces where the sea breaks 400 meters below. Richard Wagner imagined his Klignsor garden here and finished composing Parsifal here . Roman, Arabic, Gothic and romantic, Ravello is the meeting of cultures and music, which every summer the Wagnerian festival is held here. The amphitheater designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer and the halls of Villa Rufolo play host to the world's greatest composers and conductors. Not just classical music. Also jazz and new trends are well received.
We arrived at night and were lucky enough to hear a Mario Coppola piano recital. There was only one disaster, and above caused: my mobile started ringing in the middle of a Chopin piece . The pianist lowered his arms, made a resigned gesture and began the piece again. I felt like a worm inside a perfect apple. I swear from that moment on I watch my phone every time I walk into a performance hall. The arrival at Hotel Caruso was an event in itself. Uphill streets, very narrow, and my rented car brushing motorcycles and walls. And finally, that 11th-century palace, today a magnificent luxury hotel that has had the prudence and decency to maintain its rooms with absolutely essential changes. Toscanini, Virginia Wolf, Graham Greene slept here , that in one of his rooms he wrote The Third Man.
I walked out and soon after Naomi Campbell came in, but she doesn't seem that exciting to me. Locked away in Greta Garbo's suite, with a balcony to the sea and a view of the sky, I think that the diva was in her habitat: very tall, very hermetic, very transgressive. Here she met (once or several times) that furtive lover who was Leopold Stokovski, who was not very decisive in her life or in her sexuality. The suite is spectacular. the overwhelming view and the bathtub –sorry for this insubstantial detail– enormous and round. I immerse myself in the water and in playful thoughts before moving on to the restaurant. Waiting for me are the hotel managers, Franco Girasoli and Michele Citton, and my new friend, Janet D'Alesio, a successful cocktail from Sweden and Naples living on the Amalfi Coast. Let's say she is the epitome of public relations: happy, fun, efficient, demanding, caring and she knows the international language. She gets it all, even if she has to ask the god Bacchus or Poseidon for some personal favors. With her we went to Positano, to Furore, and to Amalfi with photographer, assistant and our model Natascia, a natural blonde beauty from Pozzuoli, the Naples neighborhood where Sofia Loren was born.
General view of the Duomo of San Gennaro in Praiano
And at the end of the long day of shooting, Janet still had energy left for a drink or dinner at the magnificent hotel restaurant, where Mimmo di Raffaele makes delicacies with names like 'Primavera nel orto', or 'Variazione al limone sfusato amalfitano' . What I remember most about Janet is seeing her go down and up at top speed and without apparent effort the thousands of steps between the road and the beach, or between the mountain and the beach, always on five-inch heels. Always smiling. She colleague until the last farewell greeting.
From Amalfi she knew a few things. Which was one of the four Maritime Republics of the Mediterranean. That the compass was invented there. Which is famous because Saint Andrew, its patron saint, performs an eternal miracle. And that his lemons are the best in the world. It is not little to start. And when you arrive at the bustling commercial port, full of tourist boats arriving from Naples, Sorrento, Capri or Salerno, you realize that the ancient Maritime Republic is still in full sail. In the Plaza del Duomo (cathedral) of San Andrés we visit the beautiful Paradiso cloister, with well-preserved frescoes, the mighty Basilica of the Crucifix and the miraculous crypt of Saint Andrew. Here we stopped to listen to the dedicated talk of one of the guides, who showed us the place where the head and bones of one of the first disciples of Jesus rest.
On this tomb there is a glass ampoule where, on the eve of the Saint's feast, 'la Manna' is collected, a dense liquid that has always been in the tomb of the apostle, both in Patrasso and in Constantinople, and in Amalfi for a long time. 750 years. For the Amalfitans it is an unequivocal sign of the holiness of their patron saint and of an eternal miracle. . I learned all this while she was admiring marble statues by Pietro Bernini, Michelangelo Naccherino and Domenico Fontana. Going down the spectacular steps of the Duomo, I came back to reality and to the imminent desire to have an ice cream in the Paris cafeteria.
I was gathering strength to climb the steep hill that leads from the center of Amalfi to Atrani, the smallest town in Italy, one square kilometer long. It has a coquettish beach with coarse black sand –the beaches here are preferably rocky coves– and a promenade, the lungomare , which catches you by its beauty. Walking slowly I came to a building that caught my attention. I went in and it turned out to be the historic Hotel Luna, a convent from the 1200s, with a cloister of perfect beauty, founded in 1222 by Saint Francis. The old monastic cells have been converted into forty rooms and five suites, some really small, but nobody can take away from Hotel Luna its place in the world. He is facing the most beautiful sea, alone, braving the storms. Henrik Ibsen stayed here in 1879, and here he was inspired – believe me – he had it easy – for his Doll's House. Just opposite, and also owned by the Barbaro family, a defensive tower from 1500 with a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean where we ate the famous Amalfi fish stew with Fiorduva white wine, of which I have already become an unreserved admirer. We returned to Atrani and continue climbing along a path that leads to the Torre del Ziro, in the municipality of Scala.
Amalfi is an enigma. On the one hand, it has become overcrowded (especially on Sundays in August, which becomes impossible) and, on the other, it continues to be sweet and serene. Their secret is that they have multiplied vertically what nature has denied them horizontally. We are on the verge of cliffs that in some places reach 600 meters above the sea, and it seems difficult but it is clear that it has been possible to build these towns of monumental beauty with talent, fantasy and good legs. As a Maritime Republic, Amalfi arose out of necessity in the 9th century and remained proud until the 12th. It was so powerful that the appointment of the Doge (maximum ruler) had to be ratified by the emperor of Byzantium.
In 1137 it was sacked by its rivals, but its fame and splendor had already left it in the history of men. The famous merchant of Baghdad Ibn Hawqal said of it "it is the most noble and prosperous city of Longobardia". His power crossed the seas and reached the distant shores of Gibraltar, the Black Sea and Jerusalem, where the Amalfitans instituted the order of Saint John in 1202, the origin of the Order of the Knights of Malta.
The Amalfitan shipyards made ships to order for the English and German navies. And in the nearby Valley of the Mills, between Scala and Amalfi, the best paper in the world was produced and one of the main cartographic centers in Europe was built . The beautiful Amalfi paper can be admired and purchased at the Museo della Carta. This paper illustrates the history of the Hotel Luna, a detail of elegance that seemed rare and very remarkable.
When Amalfi lost its bastion of the Maritime Republic, it fell into a strange oblivion. It seemed that life passed by, towards Naples, towards Sorrento, towards Salerno. Until the 19th century, when Ferdinand of Bourbon, King of Naples, ordered the construction of the road between Vietri and Positano. And the intellectuals arrived, who were the VIPs of the time. Ibsen, Wagner (he also stayed for weeks at the Luna, until in a fit of rage he took the scores and his beautiful and patient wife, Cósima Liszt, and went to Ravello), Victor Hugo, D'Annunzio.
During my trip I followed the dictates of my heart and got lost in the narrow streets of the old city, with clothes hanging on the balconies and the sun coming in through the open windows from which a song or a laugh always came out. Before leaving her, I entered the ancient Hotel Cappuccini Convento, which was a mendicant Franciscan monastery eight centuries ago and has been a luxury hotel for 185 years. It has recently undergone a complete renovation by the Spanish chain NH. Nailed to the rock, it looks like an epic theater set . Inside, the maximum comfort in its rooms, the terraces and its restaurant, well known for having known how to preserve the keys to Amalfi gastronomy with touches of international haute cuisine.
With suitcases bursting with books, brochures, ceramics, limoncellos, sandals, watercolor paper, local wines, silver jewelry from Paestum, extract of anchovies from the neighbor Cetara (a really picturesque fishing village), linen dresses from Pepito´s Positano and other objects classified as this-is-very-important, I became completely Neapolitan driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on the horn, to dial my presence in each curve, and there are thousands. I did not want to leave. I had to do it. I didn't know how to say goodbye. I had to do it. I couldn't erase my goofy smile. I haven't done it yet.
This report was published in issue 42 of Traveler magazine