Down to Positano

After morning cappuccini, we quickly gathered what we needed from the villa for the day’s outing to Capri and headed to the bus stop a very short distance away.  We had learned that a small bus called the Flavio Gioia buzzed back and forth between Praiano and Positano.  Conveniently, we could purchase tickets directly from the driver which eliminated having to track down tickets ahead of time.

The bus rumbled towards us, right on time.  As we looked around to make sure we were all present, we noticed Allie was missing!  I thought we may have to let the bus leave without us, but then we spotted her, flying down the hill.  She had headed off to the wrong stop, but when she saw the bus go by, had chased it down to where we were all assembled.

Riding the “Jericho” from Praiano to Positano:
Dan in forefront, Kris, Nichole, and Allie in back

The excited chatter of our group filled the little bus

Allie could never remember the name Flavio Gioia and started referring to the bus as the Jericho.  This was hilarious, but somehow fitting, and the name stuck. During the following days, whenever we planned an outing, we always checked the schedule for the “Jericho.”

Despite the twists and turns of the coastal road, it was not a long ride to Positano, la cittá verticale — the vertical city.  The driver let us off and pointed us down a stretch of road that would deposit us at the port where we could catch a boat to Capri.

The rest of the way to Positano is on foot

It was almost too beautiful to be real

Dan and Sharon inside a postcard

Turn your gaze away from town to take in this

This is a place where you could easily forget the rest of the world

We followed the downward path until we reached a Y.  Not sure of which branch to take, I asked a group of locals sitting nearby if the road continued on to the marina.

“Va agli autoscafi?” I asked politely. “Si’,” they responded. As I walked off, I overheard one of them tell his friend in an amused voice that I had asked directions to the autoscafi instead of the aliscafi. Mortified, I immediately realized I had asked for directions to the “car boats” instead of the “fast boats.” Oops!

But I quickly forgot about my linguistic error as the path transformed into a cool corridor of  flowers, a river of purple flowing overhead. We were mostly silent as we walked, awed by the unexpected burst of blooms.

Truthfully, we were in no hurry to arrive at the bottom.


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