La Dolce Vita by Benjamin Ergas

The silhouettes of Stella, Scopolo, and Il faraglioni di mezzo are receding gently onto the horizon as our boat sails away from the isle. Three rock needles that have burst out of the sea to punctuate Capri, like three ellipsis dots ending an intriguing phrase... I turn back to photograph the floating stacks, place the camera back in my bag, and seat sideways to face the mid-afternoon sun. Hair swaying in the salted sea-balsam breeze, eyes shut, I smile – this is a taste of the dolce vita I have been longing for.

Two weeks earlier, it had been a pleasant process to select a week-end destination. Italy is blessed with spectacular small towns, buried deep in its luscious countryside or flanking its plunging cliffs. We had pulled out a regional map of Southern Italy, placed our fingers on the infamous bay of Napoli, and followed its coastline south pass Sorrento towards some of the most magical names in the world – Capri, Praio, Positano, Ravello, Amalfi. But two weeks waiting seemed like a long time...

We are now approaching mainland. I open my eyes to soak up my first images of the Amalfi Coast. Lush green vegetation all around, limestone cliffs plunging into the deep blue water of this Tyrrhenian Sea, cliff-hanging towns basking in the sun. Yes, the 20+ miles that stretch south of Sorrento deserve their reputation. We pass to our left three rocky islets called Li Galli, where sirens in Homer’s Odyssey tried to allure Ulysses with their singing. Right now, it is the incredibly picturesque town of Positano about 200 yards in front that is alluring us, vulnerable enchanted tourists, to its cosy harbour.

Positano feels like a scaled down version of Amalfi, several miles further along the coast, not that I have been to Amalfi yet but simply recalling the backdrop of The Talented Mr. Ripley... Positano was an unassuming sleepy fishing village rather than a glorious Italian maritime republic. It has narrower lanes and smaller courtyards, steep steps and gardens, and no cars. It strikes me as an excellent point de chute for a 3-4 day visit of the Amalfi region. Upon disembarking, my first sight is that of a tanned, slim man wearing nothing but a tight pink Gucci swimwear and D&G sunglasses, a few cigarettes in his hands, and a few ladies accompanying him. I know at least than I am in Italy.

A young boy nearby shows us how to reach Palazzo Murat, the 18th century palace which we had selected as our base camp (http://www.palazzomurat.it/). The hotel is located 5 minutes away in the town centre, up a steep incline from the Spiaggia Grande (Large Beach), pass Flavio Gioai square, and on the right when walking towards Piazzetta dei Mulini. The hotel was the summer residence of Gioacchino Murat, Napoleon’s brother-in-law, who became King of Naples in 1808. Baroque style, gentle and soft colouring all around, our room opens up to the colourful dome of the Church of Santa Maria Assunta made, I would read later, of Vietri maiolica (tiles). Our terrace offers us a postcard view of the Positano houses, all painted in ornate colours. This is in grand style that we are visiting this region, but as our taxi driver said, “desideriamo fare la maggior parte”.

We spend two days here, relaxing by day in the private section of Positano’s main rocky beach to the far right, feeling much like Marge Sherwood and Dickie Greenleaf, and at night tasting the delights of Neapolitan cooking at the sophisticated Al Palazzo restaurant in our hotel’s serene courtyard, drinking some fine fully bodied Amarone red wine, and amusing ourselves watching the Italian ladies eyeing up one another with jealous eyes.

We carve out some time on our first day to visit to the legendary isle of Capri, far more a port-of-call for VIPs and must-be-seens than Positano. Spotting upon arrival one of those classic stretched, convertible Fiat taxis, we make I think a wise choice of going up swiftly to the more laidback hillside town of Anacapri, fifteen minutes from the harbour and 400 meters above sea level. We first walk up to the charming Villa San Michele, built by the Swedish doctor and writer Axel Muntle, and then take a ride up from Piazza Victoria by chairlift to Mount Solaro, the island’s highest point, 589 meters according to my map, from where we enjoy a panoramic view of the Bay of Napoli, the Sorrento peninsula and Capri’s Faraglioni. My shot of the white boats against the deep blue of the sea would become one of my favourites.

There is much we have not visited here, including Ravello. Once back home, I know for sure that sooner rather than later I’ll pull out my regional map again to plan for another memorable week-end here on the Amalfi Coast, for a few more slices of dolce vita.