15.10.2020-Amalfi Coast and too narrow roads

15.10.2020

Dear friends,

what shitty weather you can have here one moment and then sunshine the next.

Today we were woken up by grey sky and the thought of the pouring rain in the morning. On days like these, of course, I'm in a super good mood in the morning, cough no cough. But with Papa's encouraging words and the prospect of beautiful sandy beaches, I was motivated enough to leave in the morning. Italian roads ahoy, in the cities we made good progress thanks to our newfound knowledge from the day before, and soon we found ourselves on a narrow path on the edge of the cliffs, hoping everything would go well, and with a tingling feeling in my lower abdomen, definitely not butterflies. We made our first stop at Vico Equense. The turquoise blue water and the houses peeking out from the trees looked simply adorable from a distance, and the fact that the sun was shining on us at that moment brought childlike joy at the sight of the sea. But as a gray wall of clouds with conspicuously dark threads approached us, we got back in the car and headed over the mountain to the Amalfi Coast.

We made a stop at the first entrance that felt right for us. In the distance, you could even see a city, but here too, the front that desperately wanted to get rid of water had arrived, so we decided to take a break, lose a game of Rummikub, and wait for it to move on. After an impressively cruel downpour, the sun finally started to shine and offered us a beautiful view, once again with my beloved turquoise water. But I couldn't let my defeat sit with me, so we had to play another round, and this time I managed to win. With a satisfying tie, our motorhome was back on the move. These steep slopes are truly beautiful. Plunging fifty meters down and then suddenly, because now there is only a seventy-degree incline, a house. Sometimes even on almost straight slopes, the houses stand like tin soldiers, lined up one after the other, built so high that the roof of the house can be used as a parking deck. Sometimes, however, the footprint is only large enough for a Mini, or a small iron door marks the beginning of a steep stone staircase that is carved into the wall and marks the only way to reach the house twenty meters lower. These people must have been so stubborn to think that they absolutely wanted to settle here. There is no space for a sidewalk, only narrow stairs lead to higher houses, and the harbor is a strip of sand, about ten meters long, randomly found between two cliffs. No one here even has a chance at having a garden because the houses often extend a bit beyond the rocks, but it is definitely beautiful to look at. It is immensely impressive and incredibly breathtaking from a distance, and simply stubborn and daredevilish up close.

We, with our camper van, already belong to the larger cars, and the fact that this road along the coast would be immediately labeled as a one-way street in Germany does not prevent people here from driving at a furious pace around the corners, which are so sharp that even we sometimes creep around them like a truck. But the best part came when my new friend, the bus driver, came towards us. In the previous encounters, such encounters had always turned out well, we stood at the edge and the oncoming driver knew how to handle the road. But now we had just driven around a rather steep curve, which was also super narrow, and he was standing in front of us. Screeching brakes, then Paps put the car in reverse, and it probably would have been fine if my new friend hadn't followed us immediately. This game went on and on: we backed up a bit so Paps could move forward to turn around, and the great bus driver followed us. When the distance sensors emitted a continuous beeping sound and my view out the window showed our rear end about 2 mm away from the tiny barrier that prevented us from falling into the gorge, my hand movements became more than just angry to tell the damn idiot to back up. But there was no reaction from his side, only cursing that we should back up further, but we couldn't because he blocked our way to turn around.

Fortunately, at that moment, the driver of the car behind us came to our aid, nodded encouragingly at us, and gestured wildly and shouted at the bus driver, as they are all here, and then suddenly there was room in front of us. With a sigh of relief, Paps was finally able to turn the steering wheel a bit more, and we quickly moved back a little way from the corner, which was wider. After that, everything went smoothly, after probably ten minutes of sweating and being crowded to the edge of the cliff, we could finally continue driving. That was enough excitement for a whole week.

When the road finally widened, both of us could breathe a sigh of relief, and the path that opened up in front of us was straight as a string. Apparently, someone wanted to compensate us for the previous hardships. Right on the sandy beach, we had cake and, of course, a touch of the water. Status update: still wet, somewhere between cool and lukewarm.

Today we reached our final destination in Santa Maria di Castellabate. A small town that is probably crowded with tourists in the summer, but now only home to a few locals and occasional Germans. The beach promenade was picturesque, and the sea crashing against the stones of the harbor was wild and crystal clear. Beautiful and even with beach sections that invited you to jump into the waves, but since the red flag was hoisted and it already looked pretty dangerous from the outside, I didn't necessarily want to experience it from the inside. Only two idiots stood in their bathing trunks two meters away from the dry beach in the water and were already frequently hit by waves crashing over their heads, but it was definitely beautiful. Especially since the sunset was simply picturesque.

See you soon and hopefully we will survive this.