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Adventures in Campania Part II, Amalfi Coast: Sun, steps and seafood!

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[Did you miss Part I? Click here]

On the other side of the hills, through some tunnels and around some hairpin turns, one pops out on the Amalfi coast. Coming from Napoli, it looks as though you’ve disembarked in another land, even though it’s not 60km away. The greenery contrasts against an azure Mediterranean Sea. The cliffs drop off to reveal a rugged coastline dotted with castle-like lookout towers used by locals nearly a thousand years ago to defend themselves from pirates.

We booked a B&B in Positano for a couple of nights. Actually, above Positano in a small village called Montepertuso. It seems to consist of about 137 houses, a church, two restaurants and a bus stop. It’s perfect. These towns were built vertically from the sea up the hillsides. But what we hadn’t considered was the fact that there are approximately 1500 steps from Positano up to our perch.

Montepertuso from our B&B balcony. Bonus points for spotting the surprise in the photo.

We decided to explore somewhat horizontally that first day… traversing over to the trailhead for the Path of the Gods, or Il Sentiero degli Dei, we managed to hike the path all the way from Montepertuso to Bomerano and back. For the record, “horizontal” is relative in these parts.

Words cannot do justice to panoramas we encountered along the way: the jagged rock formations, caves, terraced gardens, carefully-placed villas, and the sheer cliff faces that seemingly melted into the sea below. We did the hike backwards, so had to wander about a little village to find sustenance, and were rewarded with some great eggplant parm to help fuel the 2nd half of the hike. The decision to hike back rather than wimp out and take the bus proved to be a good one: the views from the “high path” were even grander, walking through the long grasses that lined the trail was meditative, and the late afternoon light contrasting with the fog off the water was surreal. Truth be told, my legs grumbled a bit when we missed a bus from Nocelle and walked the last 3km or so. But all in all, I think this hike falls on my list of favourites. Total distance 22+/- km round-trip. Definite accumulation of adventure points on the day!

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These coastal towns are connected by a local bus route, so the next day we were off to Amalfi proper, and from there the town of Ravello for its terraced gardens and medieval estates. Castles and breathtaking views? Yes, please. Bright blue skies and more spectacular views greeted us as we marched through the impeccable Villa Cimbrone (a fancy-shmancy hotel that opens its gardens to tourists)…worth every penny of the entrance fee. Between the architecture of the villa, cloister and crypt (replete with grand piano), the views, and the serenity of the place, this won our hearts more-so than the tourist-thronged streets of Amalfi.

But even an accidental tourist has to get one of Campania’s giant lemons topped with local lemon sorbet! (when in Amalfi…)

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Once back in Positano, we were faced with the dreaded steps! There is a local bus that takes one from the bottom to the top, but that schedule is haphazard and it seemed silly to wait around for a bus that may or may not come… so up we climbed, and I lost count somewhere in the neighbourhood of 11 gajillion. The reward came at dinner, where we stumbled into the family-run Donna Rosa, a surprising little restaurant with charm spilling out from the kitchen onto our table! A nice way to round out the day.

Positano, from high on the hill

The following day, we planned to hike the Sentiero Panoramico, a loop high above Montepertuso. Essentially, mostly UP… But the weather gods had other plans. A shift in the skies was upon us, and the looming clouds promised a treacherous journey on a hike already deemed hard by the guidebook. So we opted to do a short climb up to Il Buco, a hole in the mountain with very cool views from this weird geology. What goes up must come down, so we hiked down the same steps we had climbed up the day before, and wandered around the streets where Kardashian sightings aren’t uncommon (no paparazzi to be seen this day). At no more than 17C, there were still several bikini-clad people on the beach, selfie-ing it up as if the season were in full swing. I cannot even imagine what this place is like in the middle of summer!

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With dark clouds looming, we managed to grab our bags, grab a bus, and grab cover under a car park before the storm raged for real: Jupiter ushering us out of Positano with a bang. And so the days of the Amalfi coast come to a close with bonus points for bright blue skies, breathtaking views and challenging-but-worth-it hikes. Also fennel liqueur (where does one find some?!)

We stayed in a different section of Napoli on the last night, in a nice B&B run by a zealous host (whose mother made the most fantastic Italian pastries for us for Easter breakfast!). We were bowled over by her hospitality, which proved a wealth of excellent suggestions for the evening, including the best seafood experience of the trip: ‘a Figlia d’o Marenaro. The local favourite being the zuppa di cozze, a pile of steamed seafood over bread, with a zesty fra diavolo drizzled over the lobster. It did not disappoint!

Homemade sfogliatelle, courtesy of our host’s mother

So I left Naples with a better spirit than I entered. Maybe it was the last supper. Perhaps the Mediterranean air seeped into my pores. The eggplant parm and the homemade sfogliatelle and the hiking and the company surely didn’t hurt. They say you need at least 10 days of vacation for it to really feel like a holiday. I was on Day 9 and headed for a couple of nights in Istanbul to finish off my adventure.

I’ve written a lot about Istanbul, so I’ll not go into explicit detail here. Suffice to say it was a nice couple of days wandering about this weird and wonderful city. I’d intended to visit the Rumeli Fortress, a castle situated on the banks of the Bosporus, but it was closed (until next time!). I still managed to eat a traditional herring sandwich at a fish boat on the Golden Horn. I wandered through Gülhane Park and stumbled across a gray heron rookery. I explored Taksim Square, and later the Egyptian spice market. I even watched the Iftar unfold in the park between the Blue Mosque and Ayasofya. And my B&B, the lovely Hotel Empress Zoe where I’ve stayed each time I’ve visited, was a warm comfort. The city has gone through major renovations in the year and a half since I’ve been here, and seeing the old city walls and newly-restored ancient monuments was a treat.

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So, no, it wasn’t the warm and sun-soaked holiday I had envisioned. But all the same I’m grateful for the ability to travel. I’m grateful for a world full of food and culture and historical ruins and relics and museums and landmarks and sweeping vistas to explore, and a team back at the office holding down the fort while I took this much-needed break (but not so much for the Lyft driver who got lost at the airport on his way to shuttle my jet-lagged body home).

Until next time, world… the wheels are already spinning.

Balkan Doživljaj, final chapter: All roads lead to…Istanbul?

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I’ve just spent 2-1/2 weeks travelling, bouncing between historic stone towns wrapped in ancient fortresses and a mesmerising display of what happens when nature gets to push its boundaries. I spent time in Croatia and Montenegro, and then a couple of drive-throughs of the Bosnia end of Bosnia and Herzegovina (passport stamped 2x, but it feels a little like cheating to “count” a country without really seeing it). Croatia, and to some extent Montenegro, draws cruise ships to its ports, but thankfully many of the wonders of both are too far inland or too small to be considered “worthwhile” destinations.

Worthwhile is in the eye of the beholder: I’ll always gravitate towards that which is lesser-known, farther-flung, not-as-trodden, ditto obscure; grateful for the opportunities that health and employment and relative freedom afford.

Before going home, I further bounced to a stopover in one of my favourite cities, Istanbul, where I set my sights on seeing things I hadn’t in my previous visits here. In all its own ways, this city mesmerises. On so many levels, it’s where East meets West and where secular meets orthodox. The Adhan, call to prayer, echoes in the streets at its regular cadence, the chants melding with the city’s din. In the market crowds, suited or Levi’s- and T-shirt-garbed urbanites jumble with burqa and niqab and headscarf-clad women to create a kaleidoscopic patchwork of cotton and silk and wool and skin.

It is an architecturally fabulous city, elaborate and historic mosques and the 5th-century Walls of Constantinople that surround the oldest parts of the city, juxtaposed against the gleaming downtown bridges and myriad shops…there’s a sweet shop on nearly every corner selling a regional favourite – Turkish Delight.

I spend my first afternoon reacquainting myself to this old town neighbourhood – Sultanahmet – known primarily for the Blue Mosque and its neighbour, the Ayasofya (or Hagia Sofia), an Orthodox cathedral-turned-mosque-turned-cultural museum. It’s the latter I’m intent on seeing this day. The mid-day tourist crush has diminished and I breeze in without much wait. It is immense, and an engineering wonder on its own…(the interior height of the dome is an astounding 55.6 metres high). (Re-)built as a cathedral in 537AD, it was considered a pinnacle in Byzantine architecture. Once the Ottoman Empire did its thing in the 1400’s, Ayasofya was converted into a mosque (in the process, the spectacular mosaics were plastered over). Today, the structure serves as a museum, and as such, we see a restoration of the old Orthodox tilework with Christian works contrasted against the elaborate mosque décor, including 8 massive calligraphic discs depicting the names of Allah, the Prophet Mohammed, and other related messengers and bigwigs (thus concludes my knowledge of the Islamic hierarchy). At present, the Turkish government is arming for a fight with the UNESCO folks, as Erdoğan is angling to turn the museum back into an active mosque.

Next morning, I hop a bus to get on a boat that takes me on a water tour from the Golden Horn (Istanbul’s old trading port and current and bustling waterfront) and into the Bosporus Strait, the waterway that serves to connect the Black Sea with the Aegean, and one of primary reasons Constantinople was a key trading post along the Silk Road. There are reminders of Istanbul’s place in history scattered throughout the city, like the Obelisk of Theodosius or a little stela, almost hidden between a tram stop and the crowded entrance to the Basilica Cistern, called the Milion Stone, marking the “zero point” to everywhere else that was important in the Byzantine era, with distances. Constantinople was the center of the modern world and this stone told you how far away the place you wanted to go was from the only place that mattered. It’s these little wonders that just add to the magic of this city.

Istanbul is the largest city that sits on the cusp of two continents, the Bosporus separating the European from the Asian side of the country. And from the water you can definitely see many of the historical influences in the variety of architectural styles. Grand mosques, old and new; modern industrial eyesores, marble palaces, red roofed stone houses built into the hillsides, pretty painted neighbourhoods that look like something from a travel magazine… And, to my delight, a castle! As we make our way down the Bosporus towards a stop on the Asian side, I see a massive fortress on the European side. The Rumeli Fortress, I learn, is one of several fortresses here. It’s not really surprising, knowing something of the history of the region, and these are now (all!) at the top on my list of what to see next time I return.

The Golden Horn is a natural harbour, and as we come into port, it warms my heart to see some of its resident dolphin population. This harbour was once bubbling with fish and these dolphins’ ancestors, but here, too, they’re sadly feeling the impact of overfishing and pollution.

We’re at port and I bid farewell to the hungover Finns I met onboard. My next stop is what’s becoming an annual pilgrimage to the Mısır Çarşısı, the old spice market, where I acquire enough Turkish Delight, cheese, olives and biber salçasi (a thick red pepper paste) to eat like a Turk for a while back home!

My remaining hours here fly by – I walk back towards my hotel along the water, watching the fishermen cast their lines in the channel where the Golden Horn meets the Bosporus. On the way, I wander through the lovely Gülhane Parkı and make it back to my neighbourhood. It’s all becoming more familiar to me; even the human traffic jam I encountered at the spice market seemed amusing, and I had a laugh at the situation with strangers in the crowd.

Dinner is at a cosy little place lit by hundreds of Turkish mosaic lamps, then I meander back to my B&B a bit slower than necessary. Early the next morning, I do a last wander around Sultanahmet before the crowds arrive. I patted some stray dogs, got adopted by a cat, had a fresh-pressed pomegranate juice and then brekkie in the lovely B&B courtyard before starting the journey back to the real world.

In a blink of an eye, I’m on a bus, reflecting on the string of encounters I’ve had in this strangely enchanting city. The bus is taking me back to the airport, and to the air ferry that will magic me over the continent of Europe and then over the sea that separates this continent from mine. Sitting next to me is a smiling woman from Kabul, here in Istanbul for a few days of shopping. Back home, she teaches Arabic. In broken English, hand gestures and Google translate, we shared a little bit about ourselves. Then she WhatsApp calls her teenage son in Kabul so he could meet me. The world is so much smaller than we are led to believe (and parents around the world will forever be embarrassing their teenagers, I think). People are people, regardless of their wrapping.

When I travel, I try to come home knowing more than I did and seeing something new or from a different perspective. Sometimes it makes me question the rat race, makes me more worried about the rabid consumerism that spreads like a virus, makes me want to work harder to find that balance between work and play, where play should win out but doesn’t always…

Until next time, Istanbul. I’m readying for the next adventure…

Read the whole Balkan Doživljaj story here: Part I: Arrival | Part II: Into the Mountains of Montenegro | Part III: Fleeing the Russians for the Countryside | Part IV: Nature, Fog, and Maybe Going to Hell | Part V: In Which I Split