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Italian Adventures

Hell Ride to Amalfi
September 30, 2002

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Note: I'm writing this up at 2:35 am while sprawled on the bathroom floor at the Paradisio Hotel in Amalfi. Paradise indeed!

This speaks to Heaven and Hell and we just came through a portion of hell to get to this heavenly 'paradise.' I'm still recovering from the experience I'm about to tell you and need to write it down - get it out, so maybe I can sleep (not to mention regain my sanity!).

We decided rather spontaneously (some may say impulsively!) to leave the peaceful, pastoral farm in Tuscany after one week's stay. It was too cold and damp, and even though we had another week all paid for, we decided to burn our bridges behind us, so to speak, and head South.

This was based on a tip we were given in Florence when buying some olive oil. I asked the pleasant English girl at the counter, "If we wanted to go to the sea and warm weather, where would you suggest?" Without hesitation she said with enthusiasm, "Oh, you must go to Amalfi on the Mediterranean Sea. It's the most incredible, gorgeous place and make sure you stay at the Paradisio Hotel. Take the A-1 and you can be there in 6 hours." She scribbled these directions on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. I stuffed the paper in my fanny pack and forgot it - till the excessive damp, yucky weather brought it back to mind a week later. "Let's do it," Jim and I grinned at each other. "Let's do a Lanzarote."

We had embarked upon a similar impulsive jaunt while in the Canary Islands a few years ago when we left Tenerife at a moments notice and jumped a plane to Lanzarote without knowing where we would stay or anything. It turned into the best experience of our whole trip. So, that's what I mean by "doing a Lanzarote."

Well, getting to Amalfi was certainly an experience I'd prefer to have amnesia over, except for the 6 hour drive down the A-1 toll road from the farmhouse in Tuscany to Napoli. That was fine. I found myself zipping merrily along on my hour and twenty minutes stints (we took turns driving in our little Spanish diesel rental car). My average speed was between 80 and 110 mph. I hadn't driven a shift car in a year and a half, so it was exhilarating! Sporty Ferrari cars liked to zip along in the high speed lane at around 150 mph or more it seemed to me. We had high hopes of finally having a driving day that left us other than the frazzled, zonked pair that usually emerged after a day of Italian driving.

Well, it didn't happen. Instead, just when we thought we were cruising the last leg of this 6 hour jaunt to our beloved Mediterranean Sea, with Jim driving, as it was his turn -- IT HAPPENED! The road suddenly turned into a Monster; a narrow cliff hugging, twisty turny snake of a thing, dangerous as could be. Once you got on it, you could not get off and little did we know that the next hour or so (it seemed like an eternity) would be a day nightmare.

The cars drove fast and wild, defying the sheer cliffs only inches away. The infestation of the ubiquitous motorcycles roared in and around everyone and everything at the whim of their madness. Nothing could stop them.

We were stuck right in the middle of this craziness, Jim doing an admirable job of white-knuckling it up and down and round about this serpent road, flanked by the most awesome glimpses of the sea and distant quaint towns built as if hanging from cliffs.

THEN IT REALLY HAPPENED ...

The Bus, the blasted tour bus came around the corner in the opposite direction from us, beeping it's horn incessantly, but it was too late. By the time we saw The Monster, it was plowing ominously towards our rental car, squishing Jim, who was driving, into an impossible situation.

Cars were piled up behind us, stopped now. Passengers in the Monster Bus were peering out their windows at us with pathetic looks. Jim did his best to back up but there was little place to go due to all the cars backed up behind us.

The Monster Bus did not stop, backup or anything like that. No! He kept coming at us like a wild, hungry animal enjoying the kill. Then Jim managed to back up a tiny bit due to the car behind us doing the same but the bus kept coming.

Then we HEARD IT! The stomach churning sound of a tour bus scraping the side of our rental car. Now the bus stopped. The driver stuck his head out the window to yell at Jim for not stopping sooner and moving out of his way. What an idiot!

Jim, stressed to the hilt already, managed to muster these words to the driver, "What do you want me to do now?" which I thought was a good line. Driver replies gruffly in some half Italian, half English sentence, "Stop up ahead and pull over. Turn around. I'll be at the bottom of the hill to wait for you. Come now."

Well, Jim and I did not like the ominous tone in his voice and the possible ramifications, so instead, we did our Italian version of "We better be leaving this place," and took off as fast as we could in the opposite direction.

This 'bus' incident happened fairly early during the grueling cliff hanging road trip. Of course, we were both already starting to Zombie out, yet had to endure another 45 minutes of more of the same hazards, except now Jim was somehow able to ward off the worst of the rest of the ongoing bus incidents.

Finally, we came to the town of Amalfi. We parked the car illegally (we found out later) and I managed to get us the Paridisio's last available apartment and a garage for our car.

Jim, by now was walking around outside in a dazed, totally stressed condition - his left eye stinging and glazed, mumbling something over and over about how we must leave this awful place immediately. I was still in my semi coma, my legs aching from ramming my feet into the floorboard of the car for hours, however, thankfully still able to do the practical stuff of getting us a place to stay. Driving further was not an option in our condition.

The worse was over for now at least. We meditated, went out to the Trettatorie for pizza, walked around this most unbelievable town, full of charm and intrigue. At last we could appreciate it a bit. We decided to stay for 4 days. After all, surely we had earned it!

OK, now maybe I can go to sleep.

Postscript: These four days in gorgeous Amalfi, plus a boat trip from there to the Isle of Capri, turned out to be the most restful, fun and yes, heavenly, times during our month long Italian pilgrimage.

The end

Tales of the Trip
St. Francis Still Lives in Assisi
Italian Bathroom Memoirs
Hell Ride to Amalfi