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Yes! We have not missed the bus. That pasta lunch was cutting it close so I’m pleased to see that we don’t have to wait another 30 minutes. Oh LORD! Beyond these folding doors is a mere 3 foot space up the steps, followed by a solid wall of people. Behind me are my two companions and many other eager would-be passengers. I step on the bus and brave the crowd saying, “scusa” to them all as I press my already sweaty body against theirs.
We are the last 3 out of 6 people who actually get on the bus. It’s so crowded and the people keep pushing us apart from each other and into other passengers. My fingers cling to the bars above us as the overloaded block of metal leans around the curves. There’s just no tasteful way to stand here. Why do they make busses with windows that DON’T open in a country that’s very hot and very overloaded with tourists when it’s at its hottest?! I think I’ve already posed this question somewhere. . . But really! I think this is the Italian way to get rid of the weaker tourists. :/
It’s a couple stops before Positano and two people on my right have gotten off the bus after some local guy insisted that this stop was for Positano. He promptly stole their seats and invited an extremely blonde German chicky to sit by him. My outback buddies and I just rolled our eyes.
Positano is straight ahead of us and down a hill, but I’m not sure if this is the right stop. That same guy insists this is the stop for Positano, but we don’t get off because who trusts some blonde-loving-bus-stop-lying Italian. Well he wasn’t lying, that was the right bus stop and we end up realizing this half way up the road and convince the driver to let us off.
We are now stuck on this tight curvy road, left to hitch a ride or walk for about a mile.
We try the first and get stuck with the latter. To see a video of our journey from the top to the bottom click here.
After an entertaining walk down a gorgeous mountain to a rainbow colored town, we stop for some gelato. . . correction - get the gelato, melone, creme, and limone . . mmmmmm. It was delicious. After that we head to the beach. I realize that I’ve forgotten my swimming suit. Ahhh perfect, I guess I will wade into the water with my white dress and just enjoy it up to my knees rather than over my head.
I spin my feet around in the hot gravely sand and just stare at the red, cream, blue and green buildings. They are better than the pictures and I can’t believe I made it here. After a bus strike, a lousy Italian that got called in early to work, getting sick and rearranging my interviews, I finally made it here. The view alone was worth it.
On the way back to Salerno, we rode the bus and listened to Italian teenagers make fun of us In their own tongue, not know that we had a fluent Italian speaker in the group. OAF!! I guess all I can do is smile and laugh at the trouble of this trip and treasure the silly and special memories made. I love Italy . . . even when they don’t love me.
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