Retroment of Baron and Baroness Von D'Lucci: Popped Into a Picture Postcard in Positano

Greetings. Pompeii must have taken more out than one might have thought. Or else the enjoyment of everything that followed did not allow for blog time. Either way the illustrious group did arrive in Positano.

It is always interesting to view someone else’s reaction to a similar experience. Having been to Positano several years ago, albeit in a chilly, dank January, Gini and Chris had experienced the ride along the cliffs from Napoli to Positano. They also had the even less guard-railed but equally vertiginous roads of Cinque Terre to compare. Now somebody else was driving and the view’s spectacular aspect could be enjoyed.

Geoff and Linda were of another experience. This was their first take on the precipitous perspective offered by the southbound lane along the coast. An irregular rhythm of non-breathing and anxious expulsions accompanied an occasional OMG or YGTBKM (you’ve got to be kidding me). A nice touch was when our chauffeur answered his cell phone.

This is a story with a happy ending so the quartet was deposited successfully at the Hotel Pasitea.

With some satisfaction Gini and Chris smiled because the last time they thought they were staying here they reinforced their knowledge of the Italian word “Chiuso”, i.e. “Closed”. Today it was aperto.

Baggage was unloaded and rooms assigned. It was well received.

From the “T_iumph” sitting prettily poised out front (notice the missing ‘r’):

To the 1950 Vespa in the lobby:

To the ‘breakfast nook’:

This was going to be ‘tutto va bene’.

One could not help but think about whether there would be a good view from the room. It was not disappointing:

The bedroom wall even proved interesting:

Eating, of course, had to be planned. Gini had been waiting 5 years for the chance to try out the restaurant at the Hotel Gabrisa next door. On their last visit the Gabrisa served as their hotel when they had arranged with the closed Pasitea to board their patrons. During that stay they were working on the restaurant but it would open later that year. So calmly waiting about six minutes, Gini secured reservations for that night. Chris was informed that they would be eating at an outside table very close to the road but right next to the cliff wall.

Here is our happy camper tableside:

The next day allowed for some exploration. Breakfast was duly enjoyed especially when it was discovered that cappuccino could be easily included (Chris especially when decaffeinato was one of the choices). The road in front of the hotel was one way and wound down the cliff in lazy esses. This was summarily dismissed in favor of a more adventurous choice. Crossing the road was the public stairs that served as ‘streets’.

Our newcomers were a bit wary…

because we all know they do go up also:

The frequent views accompanied frequent rests; some of the views being signatory:

The road does not go to the water. It continues its one way serpentining in a casual dip before going up and heading ‘out’ of town. Pedestrians rule after that with stores filling every available sidewalk border. Purchases were made by all (even Chris).

Eventually the beach was reached:

A little more exploring brought everyone to the second beach:

One of the major reasons for the further exploration was a serious effort to verify Paul Kahn’s claim of having found the best pizza in the world nestled in a cliff overlooking this very same beach. Not quite matching Moses’ doubting of getting water from a rock, hasty emails had been sent to pinpoint the location and articulate directions. A subsequent messaged picture evoked “That’s the one” from Paul.

The automatic taste standard would be Spris in Miami Beach for thin crust pizza. Lo Guarracino easily surpassed it. The view also was a bit better than Lincoln Road:

At this point those wishing that such good fortune is not being spread enough will wallow in the knowledge that the walk back up the stairs was not pretty. Serious discussion of who would be left behind and/or offered to the gods of gravity ensued. Visions of Georgia O’Keefe-like skeletal remains offered artistic solace.

The key incentive that may have saved all was the thought of Spritzes on the porch and coffee for Geoff. It ultimately worked though delirium lingered:

Showing true tourist integrity dinner plans were researched and executed. It would be the Mediterraneo just 162 steps below the Pasiteo and half an ess walkback since climbing stairs did not compute at this point.

The Mediterraneo was set up as a classic tourist site. Recognizable music wafted as one settled into the outdoor tables. Geoff got us off on the right foot by ordering completely in Italian but somehow the Von D’Lucci attitude of the quartet slipped through. Before you know it chaos reigned.

Our maitre d’:

who did possess some photographic skills:

Geoff was given his camera back and recorded the overall reaction of a sample couple:

The diner on the left was deep in discussion of …well nobody really remembers.

Very difficult to describe in pictures Positano at night. There is the buzz and bustle at the beach (assuming you would take the bus back up) or the intermittent quiet and conversational clusters of the distributed restaurants.