Amalfi - 17th May

Mr Ross has returned from whence he came – another day or exploration of the Amalfi coast.

 The sun is shining as we head off - I receive yet another correction to my understanding of the language used by Italian migrants in Australia - My Italian friends  used to say that they had come to school on the "School-a-bus" - I pinch myself - emblazoned on the side of the buses picking the young of Sorrento - Scolabus!

We arrive at a quiet port - We sit and watch the other early arrivals -  tour guides awaiting the arrival of their charges - mothers and post-teen daughters strolling hand in hand – girls with hands intertwined – boyfriend and boyfriend with hands intertwined - boyfriend and girlfriend with hands intertwined - men and women with hands intertwined.

9:00 arrives – the activity in the port steadily increases – tour guides assemble their groups – passengers line up at ticket windows – chatter increases – people mill – some tour group participants appear like particles trapped in a vortex with their guide at the eye – they are clearly afraid of losing contact with their group – other seem oblivious to the calls of the guide – they ignore the pleas to follow – some guides take the various behaviors in their stride – others look distinctly agitated!

Independent travelers are more relaxed – they gather overlooking the seas and organise one another for the perfect photo – “ make sure you get that volcano in the background” says one.

A young lady wanders by selling hats – good morning – bonjorno – Buenos días - Bonjour – cappelli she is not particular about the nationality of her potential cappelli customers – a down and out dark skinned local wanders quietly pedaling his wares – in his case selfie sticks in assorted colours – his sales volume low in the extreme!

The beggar is back – this time the father – the same sweet sweet tiny tiny preschooler at his side – the little one compliant but bored – dragged out day after day by father or by mother to induce in the eye of the beholder sufficient pity to loosen wallets .

We have a couple more hours to absorb the atmosphere before the ferry to Amalfi is due to depart – into Cafe Rocco – panini – Parma ham and mozzarella – coffee and another coffee – the sun shining – the breeze gentle – does life get much better? – rhetorical? – Of course! - adjourn to a seat looking out past the port to Mt Vesuvius – the seas calm – the skies clear – gradually the port environs calms as the tour ferries progressively depart for Capri

Departure time approaches - We stand at the ferry terminals – we watch the tourists anxious not to miss their boat – to apply a scene descriptor of either “organised chaos or “ she will be right in the end” would not be unreasonable!

We cannot resist a photograph - a tourist submarine departs the port.

Ferry gang planks are first raised then lowered as the dispatcher hears the cries and pants of late arrivals – we look to see the source of the cries – we recognize the approaching passengers as baby boomers like us whose days of high speed non-motorised movement have faded with their memories.

Eventually our ferry arrives – hordes of anxious travelers descend upon her – half the horde is directed away – “ no – no – no – other ferry!” – none of this does anything to ease the mind of the anxious – they respond to the increased tension by pushing forward with even greater urgency – we wave a fellow passenger trapped on the outside of the line to assume a position in the queue in front of us – he responds “no problem – there will be room for all!”

Indeed he is correct – the members of the previously anxious horde now exhibit all the characteristics of interested but reserved tourists as the ferry makes is way towards Amalfi.

We arrive at Amalfi – our first reaction is of moderate disappointment – the port and Beach area is not the equal of Positano.

We head up a narrow  dark alley way – it opens up – some shops – a pizza restaurant that looks enticing – we progress a little further up the lane – suddenly we are on a tourist filled equivalent of Corsa  Italia – shops – shops – restaurants – a street filled with people and people fuelled excitement.

We pause to wonder at the amazing properties of mid-coast Italian chilli.

Towards the top of the street a fountain consisting of a detailed nativity scene - hundreds of individual pieces painstakingly carved and positioned into the scene in a manner only Neapolitans would contemplate - we photograph the fountain - we photograph the shell that forms the underwater crib for the baby Jesus but he has gone missing!

We return along the street - we photographs some of the wares.

We pause again - Bernie must have the cardboard wrapped take away fish and chips that has so interested other travellers - she obliges herself.

The fish and chips turned in an energy source we reluctantly tackle the long entrance stairs into the Amalfi Cathedral - indeed remarkable! 

Down the steps again.

We pride ourselves on not being overly industrious travellers - it is once again time to sit and watch - a cafe on the shoreline! - ideal to see the world of the traveller go by! 

We watch the new fad "babymooners" - so many of them that Amlfi may well be entitled to claim that it is the babymoon capital of the world - we watch travellers with hiking sticks some resting after their tramp along the Path of the Gods - we see travellers who look like they wish that they too had hiking sticks but who show no signs of any aspiration to emulate the walk - we see young travellers who have no need of aids of any kind - we see young men devoid of shirt and displaying the effects of sunlight on skin that has just emerged from winter - we see young girls wearing upper body undergarments that would fail, by a considerable margin, to meet the Pope's minimum standards for the design, manufacture and coverage of such garments if indeed such a standard existed.

Time flies - we seek position in the queue to board the ferry home to Sorrento - we wait patiently while the hundreds queue in front of us for their journey back to their base in Salerno. 

Enjoy!