Il Turista Ultimo and Il Mio Ultimo Post (The Last Tourist and My Last Post)

"Positano bites deep.  It is a dream place that isn't quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone"

-- John Steinbeck 

http://www.sirenuse.it/fileUpload/downloads/1/Steinbeck.pdf

     This quote is from an article Steinbeck wrote back in 1953 for Harper's Bazaar.  There are passages from it in many of the travel books around town and so at some point we took the time to find it online.  Back then, it helped to create a boost in tourism to the city.   What was most amazing to me was that it seemed that many things have not changed in these sixty years.  The driving in Italy, especially around the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast, was scaring American tourists back then too.  He talks about the scooters, the Italian driver that can somehow casually navigate those turns and at the same time give a passionate description, and the town that "bites deep".  I understand that.  Positano is one of those places that draws your mind back to it long after returning to your own corner of the world.    

      It was around the end of November when we started to refer to ourselves as the "Turisto Ultimo" (the last tourist).  The tourist part of town was closing down at that point.  Most of the hotels were closing and the restaurants down in the center of town were shuttering up one by one (They open back up around Easter).  We mourned the closing of many of them and tried to get in one last meal if we could.  One night we had one of those "last meals" across town and walked back under a full moon.  The stars were so bright and it seemed as though the mountain road had somehow brought us closer to them.  Steve and I talked to each other in those last few weeks about what we would bring back from this trip.  Memories like these will be one thing.  Of course there is also the flip side to our walks in town (we lived without a car).  On Halloween night, coming back from a little party they put on for the kids, we were hit by what seemed like a monsoon.  The wind was so strong it was breaking our umbrellas so we had to take them down.  It was a soaking, sideways rain and to top it off we were loaded down with balloon animals they had made for the kids at the party.  As we made it up the hill I could hear pieces of them popping in the wind.  At one point Samantha's balloon dog slipped from my hand and we watched it sail down the street.  She was in tears.  Steve turned around (he was far ahead of us with Ella) and by some strange luck caught it.  We came home to a soggy blue mermaid and Hermoine Granger.  Even those memories are kind of funny at this point.  It's the balloon animals that will keep me smiling.

A moonlit night in Positano

       After getting back home a friend asked us, with a twinkle in her eye, "So, how was all this togetherness?".  She knew there had to be at least a few good stories there.  That was one of the grand experiments of the trip in a way.  At home, with both of us working, school, kids activities, sometimes it seemed like the four of us never spent a whole lot of time all together.  Then suddenly here we were in an apartment with all the time in the world and only ourselves for company!  Luckily that proved to be a good part of the trip, the best part.  Sure we had a couple of moments where we all thought "Maybe there really is such a thing as too much togetherness".  But those moments were always laced with a bit of humor.  I will remember things like walking through Pompeii and listening to our tour guide intermixed with one of Samantha's home-brewed songs (She always has one going.  They usually have about five words to them and get stuck in your head like a commercial jingle)  She would normally have a tight grip on my hand during these kinds of tours and it made a crazy contrast listening to our guide talk about this 2000 year old city buried in ash and Samantha's jingle but I wouldn't have traded it for the world.  Watching Ella pick up Italian, her pronunciation way better than mine, was a treat.  She had some funny lines along the way.  When we first set eyes on the Forum in Rome she said to me "These ruins are a wreck!".  Seven is a good age.  I think some of my favorite moments with Steve there were sneaking off during the girl's hour long ceramics class to grab a glass of wine and snacks at a spot just down the road at an outside table for two with a view of the sea.  On a gorgeous day, during one of these happy hours, we contemplated that maybe the girls should become master artisans and start taking these classes daily. ;)  

        At some point even the last tourist has to go home and so we did.  Some day I hope we can return to the town that "bites deep" and the friends we made there.  In the meantime, I'll have these memories, some of the best in a lifetime.

Tea party in paradise (kind of like the Jimmy Buffet song)

Making their own paintings down in the center of town.  All they needed to fit in was an easel and straw hats!

The restaurant row at the beach.

Some very familiar stairs.

Samantha on the boat ride to Capri.

Some friends in Positano.  We were a little afraid, but attempted to cook an Italian meal for "real Italian people".  Steve did well.  It was a fun afternoon with great company.

Homeward

Steve

Watching the sunrise from the little cove between Fornillo and Spiaggia Grande

For my last day in Positano, I got up early and took a couple of photos of the sunrise from Fornillo beach.  Then I headed back up to the villa to prepare for our trip back to the states.  Our travel itinerary included a transfer back to Naples, then a train to Rome, and finally a flight to London.  We spent the evening in London, and the next morning we were able to wonder about and show the girls some of London's most famous landmarks.  After that it was back to the airport to catch a mid-day flight to the U.S.  Travel days can be a little exhausting, but the girls are a bit used to it now and don't complain too much.  It helps that everything has been running on schedule.  

Wandering around London near the hotel in the am to scope out breakfast spots,
when what to my wondering eyes did appear!  ( I had no idea we were so close to Westminster Abbey.)

So what can I say about our time here in Positano?  This little seaside village where the houses tumble down the mountains to the sea.  I am sure that in the months ahead I will miss certain aspects of life there.  In many ways our time in Italy was better than I had imagined it might be.  We did so much during our stay, and yet there is so much more that we wanted to do.  We met so many genuinely kind and gracious people, some of them who we are now lucky enough to count among our friends.  On a more personal level, I had hoped that the time spent in Italy would in some way transform me.  Now that we are high above the Atlantic and headed home, I find myself wondering if it has.  ( I'm almost certainly no taller.  ;)  I think that the days spent in Positano were some very happy ones for myself as well as for Jo Anne and the girls, and that good times (like bad ones) leave their mark on people.  I would like to think that as a family we have grown a bit closer.  I think I savored each day we spent in Italy because in the back of my mind I knew that our time there was limited.  But in reality this is always the case no matter where you are, so hopefully appreciating each day is something I will continue to do.

Another sunrise photo from my walk down to Fornillo beach

I am very curious to see how things will play out back in the U.S.  It would be easy to spend three months in Positano without a care in the world, and then return to the grind and allow work, chores, and social obligations to again set the pace.  For life to be no different than it was before I left.  For me to be no different.  But I hope that this will not be the case.  I hope that what I have learned from my months abroad will become engrained in who I am and how I live my life.  And I think the lesson is simply this - enjoy your life, wherever you are.  Recognize the beauty that is around you and take advantage of it.  Skip the cinema in favor of a hike.  Have a glass of wine with your spouse and talk about anything and everything.  Play a game of checkers with your kids instead of watching TV.  If they are young enough to play checkers with you, these moments will be gone all too quickly.  Fill your days with wine and food and friends, because these will be some of the best days you ever spend.  And every once in a while take some time alone to treat yourself to a really good cappuccino.

Ciao.  Buon Natale e buon anno.

The Washington monument came into view just before landing.  Good to be home again. 

Together again.  Cousins reunite at the airport in DC.

The last drops of Limoncello

Samantha in the pink boa she smuggled into her carry on.

by Jo Anne

We have one week left in this beautiful town.  It's the length of a normal vacation for us and I'm realizing just how short that will always seem after this trip.  For these last few weeks we moved into a "villa" on the other side of town, the Fornillo side, a little splurge we had planned from the start.  The house has a large terrace with a view of the sea.  It gives the girls a welcome flat spot to run around outside and Steve and I a place to sit and practice "Il dolce far niente" (the sweetness of doing nothing).  While I haven't been a quick study with the Italian language, I think I could master this Italian art form.  From the balcony doors off of our bedroom you see only the blue Mediterranean offset by the white stone of the patio. It still doesn't feel quite real that we are occupying such a space. 

The view from our bedroom.

It's been cooler with lots of rainy days mixed in with the sun.  We've seen some winter storms roll in.  One night it felt as if the house was going to blow off the cliff.  They call it the tramontana (the northern wind).  There was lightning, rain coming down in buckets, power glitches, the northern wind howling down the mountain and….our laundry hanging out on the line.  All night I woke up to the storm and the tramontana envisioning our clothes sailing high up into the sky over Positano like something out of the Wizard of Oz.  By some miracle, our only casualty was one sock.

A storm rolling in.

Steve, I think, is growing into those Italian roots of his.  He's consistently studied the language a bit every day and it is paying off.  He wouldn't admit it, but his Italian is "molto buono" (very good) at this point.  Then there is the Italian cooking.  A few days ago he very casually created ravioli from scratch.  Their perfect half moon shapes were suddenly lined up upon the kitchen counter.  My father was not named "Guido Gustavino" so maybe that makes my goals more modest.  I have learned to make coffee in the European style carafe.  The other night I made a decent Spaghetti Pomodoro.  The pasta came from a box, but the simple sauce (olive oil, fresh tomatoes, garlic) was all mine.  And although I've often longed for our clothes dryer back home, last week I found myself embracing the Italian method of drying the clothes on a line.  I was back in the garden area hanging up the clothes.  The sun was beating down, the birds were singing, our neighbor was out picking lemons from her tree.  It suddenly felt very nice to be out there hanging those socks and shirts.  I heard the solar panels they use to heat the water here clicking away and thought this will be the most environmentally friendly load of laundry I will ever do.

I made him put the kid's chef hat on :)

Steve's ravioli - perfecto!

My spaghetti pomodoro.

Ella Bella helping me with the laundry.

Chirstmas has come to Positano.  There is a sprinkling of lights in the town and the grotto, a cave like area at the bend of the road, has been turned into a miniature old time Positano village.  There are miniature steps, of course, and tiny bakers, fishermen, cooks, and shop keepers.  A few years ago, someone told us, it included a "night sky" using a large fisherman's net with hundreds of tiny lanterns hanging from it as the stars.  I love looking at all the little details. 

The Christmas grotto.

We've made some trips into the neighboring city of Sorrento to do some shopping for friends and family back home.  Last week I made a solo trip there.  I was taking the bus back to Positano, loaded down with purchases and I noticed a British couple on the bus with me.  They were the only other people on the bus that day (definitely quieter than those standing room only buses in September).  We were on the windy section of road that hugs the cliff on one side and drops down to the sea on the other.  I could tell it was one of the first times they had seen this beautiful view. They were talking excitedly and taking a video through the bus window.  It reminded me of us only a few short months ago, looking out of the window of the shuttle from Naples, luggage stuffed in the back.  It made me wish I could go back and tell the anxious one of that bunch (me!) that all would be OK.  That no one would fall down a set of Positano stairs or be run over by a scooter on this trip.  I really hate how my mind works sometimes!  I wished that I could tell that self from three months ago that the trip would be all the good things we imagined and possibly a few drops of limoncello more.

The coast.

Ella and a lemon the size of her head in Sorrento!

Christmas lights in Sorrento

A cool and quiet day on the beach in December.  The water really is that color!!
I don't know how to use Photoshop,

Living the Simple Life

Steve

Our clothes get a dousing as an unexpected storm rolls of the sea.

One thing that has made an impression on me since we came to Italy is how my life has been simplified.  Now I know what you're thinking.  This guy has no job.  Of course his life is simple!  I must admit, not having the responsibilities that come with a job does lessen the load a bit.  (It certainly opens up your weekly schedule.)  But there is more to it than that.  Downsizing to a small apartment in a small Italian village has simplified our lives in ways that I had not expected.  For starters, we have no car.  This means we walk everywhere, but the beauty in this is we walk everywhere.  The town is small enough to cross in about twenty minutes, so walking works just fine.  And remember when you got your first car?  Remember all the freedom that came with it?  You could go anywhere you wanted to go, wherever the road might take you.  Well, I am experiencing the inverse of that freedom.  The freedom of no car.  I don't look for parking spaces, I never get tickets (even when I walk really fast), and best of all I don't remember how to work a gasoline pump.  Nothing to get scratched, keyed, or dinged.  No low air pressure in my tennis shoes.  Sheer bliss.  On occasion when I have to carry something cumbersome, I grab the local Positano bus, which circles the town once every 30 minutes. 

In addition to being car-free, our small apartment means a smaller space to clean.  A smaller space also limits the crap that I can collect at any given time.  The girls are content with fewer toys, and we spend considerably less time picking up after them.  I have no garden or lawn to mow - just a few plants on the balcony.  And I'm getting by with a fraction of my former wardrobe.  Other lucky surprises include an end to junk mail (those bastards don't know I'm here yet), no sales calls and the absence of TV since none of us speak Italian well enough to watch it.  And despite this lack of stuff, we are all quite happy.  It's like they say - less is more.

Our little kitchen.  Simple but very functional.

  

Now, it would be dishonest to romanticize our simple existence without acknowledging its dark side.  For instance, we have no clothes dryer.  And it's not just us - no one in town has one.  While it sounds very green and healthy to be hanging your clothes out on the clothesline, the availability of clean clothes in our home has become largely dependent on weather.com.  If we are unlucky enough to have more than five days without some decent sunshine, someone is going to run out of underwear.  And then there are the days that you hang the laundry, kidding yourself that a 40% chance of rain means it's not likely to rain.  Off you all go into town to meet friends for lunch, only to be caught by a 15 minute deluge that sets the clock on your "dryer" back to zero.  Or worse, some serious wind gusts kick up while you're out, and when your return home you realize that was your shirt that you saw in the bushes on your way home.  

Not only do we not have a dryer, we have no dishwasher.  I don't think I ever really knew what dishpan hands were until I got here.  And while no oven means there is less to clean, there is also less to eat.   No backyard means no BBQ, and the list goes on and on.  So while the lack of certain material goods has simplified my life, it also means doing without the benefits that these things provide.  Still, I am surprised at how little I miss these conveniences or having a larger space.  And while I don't think a simpler life is necessarily a happier one, my time here has made me more aware of the trade offs that come with ownership.  With our last weeks in Italy upon us, I have come to realize that there are many things that I can do without.  That seems like a good thing.

This set of photos are from my trip to the market this morning.
As you can see from the stairwell above, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

One reason walking through Positano is so enjoyable is the scenery that confronts you at every turn.

Soaking it all in on foot, from the waves against the cliffs to the clouds drifting across the mountains.

On a rainy day in December, the roads of Positano are fairly empty.  Something you can't enjoy during the summer months.

Venice and the pigeons

by Jo Anne

I've heard that the pigeons in Venice have become a problem for the city and that they are looking for ways to curb their numbers.  The vendors that used to sell birdseed in St Mark's Square are now gone.  They were forced to close.   Because of that, I felt a bit guilty stuffing our leftover rolls from lunch into a bag to take down to St Mark's Square but I just couldn't imagine taking the girls to this city without giving them that experience.  So with our rolls in hand, off we went.

St. Mark's Square was shining on this cool, sunny day and filled with throngs of tourists and throngs of pigeons.  Many of these tourists were feeding the pigeons.  This helped to alleviate my guilt.  I watched one young guy, with arms outstretched, being covered in birdseed by his friend.  In seconds, he was covered with birds.  Our rolls came out and the pigeons swarmed.  Steve and I had a conversation that went something like this (you can guess who is who in the conversation).  "Oh God, was that pigeon poop?"  "No, that was a piece of bread falling."  "Ahhhh!  Now THAT was pigeon poop!"  "No, that was another piece of bread.  Can you please stop?"  The kids on the other hand were blissfully unaware of the risks of pigeon poop.  They wanted the pigeons all over them, until of course the pigeons were on them, and then it freaked them out a little.  Steve patiently stood with Ella and helped her learn to hold her arm out straight and how to keep it steady when the pigeons landed.  I tried to calm some of Samantha's fears but I'm not sure I was a great example.  While I know that some refer to these birds as "flying rats", watching Ella and Samantha's eyes light up, their giggles and screams, feeding the pigeons with the icon of St Mark's Basilica as the backdrop held a bit of magic for me. They said it was their favorite part of Venice and it may have been mine as well.  I'm not sure if Samantha will remember some of our excursions on this trip.  Will Pompeii or the museums in Florence still be there for her a couple of years later?  I  don't know.  But I think she will remember feeding the pigeons in the square of a beautiful city surrounded by water.

Ella has continued her pigeon feeding since our trip up north.  She always wants to have a spare roll in hand to feed the birds.  This makes getting through the train stations more difficult.  I have to say, feeding the pigeons in the train station doesn't hold the same magic that it did that afternoon in Venice.  At least not for me.

In Rick Steve's audio guide of St. Mark's square he suggests resisting the urge to immediately wipe pigeon droppings off.  He says if you allow it to dry you can easily flake it away.  That could be a tough tactic to explain to people if say the pigeon dropping landed on your nose.  "Ummm…I'm just allowing this to harden in the sun."  To be fair, I think he was just talking about clothing.  Luckily, we didn't need to use the advice.

Getting some instruction from Dad.

Just starting out.

Posing with the lions in the square.

Santa Maria Del Castello

Starting down from Santa Maria Del Castello

by Jo Anne

Santa Maria Del Castello is a small town on the top of the mountain overlooking Positano.  Our neighbor and friend, Ferdinando, invited us on an outing there a few weeks ago.  An organization that he leads was hiking up the mountain on a Sunday in November.  It's something they do every season for the kids, although each time to a different local spot.  It's part nature hike mixed with a little bit of a history lesson and topped off with a big party at the end.

The hike began at Chiesa Nuova, a church at the peak of Positano.  We started up some stairs from there and then a series of switchbacks up the mountain.  It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day but someone pointed out the clouds above .  They were moving very fast across the mountain top.  "Not a good sign", they said. The wind up there would prove to be brutal  One of Ferdinando's suggestions was to wear layers.  At that point I realized why.

The trail was once the main "road" used to get over the mountain.  I'm not sure at what point the trail was forged but there is evidence of a history here as far back as the Romans, the Greeks, and even pre-historic times.  Underneath the main chuch in town, Santa Maria Assunta, they are currently digging out the remains of a Roman villa.  (Add to the list of Roman achievements, finding the best beach front properties.)

On the hike, we learned about some of the native plants including thyme, rosemary, and wild blueberries. The thing that stuck with me the most though was the poisonous mushroom story.  There was s family that had died after picking and cooking one of the mushrooms we saw along the trail.  I'm even afraid of the little toadstools in our yard after this tale.

The poisonous mushroom

At the top of the mountain, the temperature had dropped it seemed 15 degrees and there was a howling wind.  That did not stop anyone.  There were games of tug-a-war, sack races, and music.  Somehow they put on a full pasta dinner for eighty people that tasted amazing.  Although, you had to hold your plate down or it would blow away.   I noticed a chair sitting up in a tree at some point and was wondering if that was somehow related to the games.  At the end it became clear, as they carried Ferdinando to it and set him down up in the tree.  He gave a short speech, which if I understood the translation was "Can someone please help me down from here?!".  

Samantha, who has told me some of her least favorite moments here were the hikes I've taken her on (a dagger to my heart) said at the end "That was a really fun day".  I think the kids and the games at the top won her over.  I agreed.

Meeting at Chiesa Nuova

Starting up the mountain

Can someone please help me down from here?

The object of Ella and Samantha's affection

Ella lost a tooth on the way down.  The tooth mouse came that night  (mouse not fairy here)