Return to Water

Alex, the hyper one of the two dogs at my quaint hostel in Positano, Hostel Brikette.
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Rome lived up to my expectations.  Its stars, both brilliant and subtle, fulfilled my vision of its imperial universe.  Sound, however, was not as rich as it had been along the canals of Venice, upon the shores of Como, or on the cliffs of the Cinque Terre.  In short, I missed the water.  I wanted its touch on my face and its taste in my mouth as much as its sounds in my ears.  The first World Heritage coast, the Cinque Terre, failed to disappoint me, so I thought a second one would be a safe bet.  I journeyed to Positano, one of the half-dozen hillside villages set on the Amalfi coast.  After six days, I was not yet ready for the completely waterless, so I weened my thirst with a weekend trip to Lago di Trasimeno, not far from the frozen-in-time Umbrian town of Perugia.

Even in grayscale, it is still quite breathtaking.
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While my key reason for seeing the Amalfi coast was itself, my timing was driven by a prior group of travelers.  The Aussies with whom I'd tackled the Cinque Terre were bound for the coast earlier than originally expected.  They were eager to reform our "Cinque Terre Crew" into the "Amalfi Army" (not my names for us, btw), so I rearranged my itinerary to meet them.

These were the days of Italian Indian Summer.

The goals for our stay were not unlike many others: lose the watch and lower the blood pressure but don't forget some of the area's key sites.  We split our time between the double-digit days (those on which we did not leave the hostel before 10am) and the days driven by bus schedules and maximum efficiency.  Our down days involved exploring the streets of our own cute town as well as those crowning the mountaintop in Ravello and winding through the once massive and powerful city of Amalfi.  We gravitated to narrow alleyways lined with artisans' shops and mom-n-pop snack bars.  And when our feet had had enough, there was always a welcoming gelateria and a beach, cliff, or other perch from which to savor it.  These were the days of novel-reading and journal-writing.  They were defined by minimal exertion and maximum relaxation.  From the signore's frutteria in the morning to the limoncello digestif on our terrace just before bed, these were the days of Italian Indian Summer.

Pretty nice views from the town of Positano...
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With seclusion and serenity often comes a less convenient commute.  When we did wish to leave our hillside nest to fulfill our tourist desires, we did so just after sunup.  Our destinations were more than worthy of such painful (by backpacker standards) departure times, the first of which was the resort island of Capri.  Our main target site on Capri was its famed Grotta Azzurra, or Blue Grotto.  Sadly Poseidon had other plans for us.  The sea was too rough for the rowboats to pass through the 1.3m-high mouth, so we had to settle for postcards and oblique views of the 60m-long, turquoise blue cavern.  Even without the grotto, this small island has enough to satisfy any visitor for at least a day.  Rather than find another crowded, guidebook-listed site, our group decided to wander through the streets of Anacapri, choosing directions with our eyes closed and noses open.  We enjoyed the images of simple lives and occasional majesty of the Bay of Naples and the sleeping giant Vesuvius behind it.

These views are a dime a dozen yet always invaluable.
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The second of our two activity days was spent at two of Italy's most visited archeological sites: Pompei and Ercolano.  Pompei is a window into the past that is still being cleaned.  The preserved city is massive and is still being unearthed from the millenia-old ash that buried it.  All facets of life are present here:  marketplaces, civic forum, theatres, and even brothels.  Walking down wagon wheel-rutted streets past ancient quick-eat snack bars, it was easy to see what a prosperous place this once was.  Its size is part of its draw, but it can also be its Achilles' heel.  At times overwhelming, Pompei is nicely balanced by its more intimate sister city, Ercolano.  I preferred this smaller site not just because a complete visit is feasible, but because it required less imagination.  Instead of being buried beneath several feet of ash, Ercolano was preserved in rivers of boiling mud.  The mud flowed into the city rather than crushing it from above, so many more details of life have been protected.  The frescoes are sharper; the statues more intact; and the homes, shops, and temples closer to their original state before that fateful day.

Just before heading out to Sorrento where we would catch a ferry to the island of Capri.
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Like all good things, my time with the "Amalfi Army" came to an end.  It had not left me unaffected, however.  It recalibrated my pace and reordered my desires.  I was neither keen on returning to a big city nor on traveling at my usual "Zach" pace.  I was eventually bound for the tourist meccas of Florence, Siena, and Pisa, but I opted for a three-day detour in Umbria.  I stayed in the small village of Torricella on the shores of Lago di Trasimeno, one of the world's "living lakes".  From here, there were ample opportunities to explore one of Italy's largest non-alpine lakes as well as visit the nearby towns of Perugia and Assisi.

A sleeping giant not to disturb, Vesuvius.
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Perugia's charm is a delightful blend of the region's historic pasts and its bright futures.  It boasts Gothic buildings and pre-Roman Etruscan ruins while its streets are filled with the activity and hubbub of a university town.  Assisi, however, draws its power from one very important source, a man to be precise.  Francis' hometown has honored him with not one but two impressive basilicas atop one of the tallest hills.  This tiny town burst with more than 1 million visitors per year to see, touch, or just be in the presence of Catholicism's most popular saints.

As close as we got to going in the Blue Grotto on Capri. If the tide is high or the sea rough, which is often, the rowboats do not attempt the 3ft x 5ft opening.
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The Amalfi coast gave me a new tempo and Umbria an introduction.  Each is seated in rich history and is trapped in scenery unforgettable.  The craggy shores along the Bay of Sorrento and the reeded borders around Lago di Trasimeno granted my wishes from Rome and satisfied my thirst for water.