John Steinbeck writes, “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.” I might as well quote the entire article he wrote for Harper’s Bazaar back in 1953, because nothing I write will do it justice. You can read it for yourself here: https://www.fodors.com/community/attachments/europe-2/5304d1611438473-week-in-positano-too-long-steinbeck.pdf
Back in Napoli, once again I packed up my life in my big ol’ backpack and, bright and early, headed for the ferry terminal to catch my 8:30am ferry for Positano and the Amalfi Coast. Sounds so posh, doesn’t it? I pictured pulling up to Positano on the deck of the ferry with my hair blowing in the wind, looking movie-star-esque. Except that we weren’t allowed on the deck of our ferry and the windows were so grimy I couldn’t see out, but I still got goosebumps once we arrived.
I first learned of Positano when, during the fun, puzzle phase of the pandemic, my Aunt Micki gave me a puzzle of the Positano hillside. As I did the puzzle, I not only decided that I would go there, but I decided exactly which hotel I would stay in. The one with the pool on the terrace, I thought, would be just perfect. Alas, at that time I did not think I would be traveling here alone, but as I was, I booked a bed in the cheapest (and only) hostel I could find, which was still $100 per night. For a bed. It ended up being a fun and stunningly beautiful place, but still, that’s the most I’ve ever paid for a bunk in a bunkbed.
The stairs are a pain in the ass, and calves and knees, but so worth the views
Hostel Brikette is located very far up the steep — no, shear cliff that is Positano. They kindly sent me an email a day before I arrived, saying: “if you take the ferry, do not attempt to walk up to the hostel with your bags. It will ruin your day.” Which naturally made me want to try it, but after I hiked the 10 minutes to the bus stop, I was happy to follow their directions. It’s not even that far. It’s just so steep, and hot, and humid, and… to quote my friend John Steinbeck, “There is only one narrow street and it does not come down to the water.” Hence the 10 minute hike to the bus stop. “Everything else is stairs, some of them as steep as ladders. You do not walk to visit a friend, you either climb or slide.” Or in my case, climb to visit my new home sweet home for the next two days.
One of my dorm mates said, “You know what they should do, they should take a Polaroid picture of you when you arrive, and then give it to you when you leave,” because everyone inevitably arrives absolutely gasping for air. Um, not great marketing but I love the idea.
Hostel Brikette, although a literal pain in the ass to get to, even if you take the bus, is the most spectacular hostel I’ve ever stayed at. True to Positano style, it has a terrace with sweeping views of the bay, a decent bar, and was filled with a lot of really great people, most of whom were single travelers. We all joked about being in one of the most romantic places in the world, flying solo.
I spent my arrival day lounging on the beach in the afternoon, after a knee shaking walk down to the water. Again, not far, just steep. I thought I was fit from a month of walking, but nah. The locals here all must have the most incredible butts, although I promise I was not looking. The soft, pebbly beach that lines the bay was filled with expensive lounge chairs, but I found the free beach which was arguably more beautiful. I spent the afternoon reading on the beach and swimming in the aquamarine water, admiring the hillside from below. As I hiked home gasping for air, I recognized the puzzle pieces from two years ago, which was extremely satisfying.
Finally got the wind in my hair on the way to Amalfi
My second day in Positano I really wanted to go on a boat. I had heard good things about the boat rides, and saw hordes of tourists getting on and off boats, and wanted to join them. After a leisurely morning I made the knee shaking journey back down to the water to inquire about a day trip on a boat. The boat tour agencies nearly laughed in my face for trying to get on a boat with no reservations, same day, at 11am, during peak tourist season. One company offered me a tour for $500 and then rolled their eyes when I said that was out of my price range. I never claimed to be the best planner.
A bit discouraged, I decided to go for a swim, which immediately changed my attitude. There’s always the ferry, I thought to myself, I could just hop on one to check out another town on the Amalfi coast. So I marched up to the ticket counter and bought a ticket to Amalfi. I even splurged on a shitty 10€ limoncello granita on the ferry, I was so excited to be on a boat, with the wind blowing in my hair. (This ferry was better than the one from Napoli.)
I immediately liked Amalfi the moment I arrived. It’s not quite as grand as Positano, but it felt a bit more real. The ancient Amalfi were badass sailors, so we had that in common. I went to the maritime museum, walked the main street and then hiked to the next town over, just to check it out. It doesn’t take long to see Amalfi, but I imagine it takes quite a while to dig in.
Back in Positano, I took the bus up to the hostel for fear of collapsing and having to spend the night in one of the stairwells. I intended to spend a nice quiet night on the terrazzo of the hostel, because I didn’t want to show up to my work stay, which started the next day, wrecked. But when I got back, a bunch of people were having sunset drinks and planning the night’s adventure. I got roped in to a very fun dinner with an Argentine crew, and ended up partying with half the hostel on the beach until the wee hours of the morning.
We asked a very well dressed guy on the beach to take the above picture of us, and he asked us how we all knew each other. I cheekily said, “We’re all sleeping together.” And he said, “Wow, how do I join?” The secret, my friend, is to find the cheapest hostel in town.
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