Arden and I imagine sirens on the rocks and warriors with tritans, exploring the seas and mountains of the Amalfi coast in the old-olden days. We crave green space, as the regal age of Florence masks its absence. So, we find Amalfi on the map and we go. Throw yourself into some decisions and figure out transportation as you go. Never a dull moment guaranteed! An ideology Kurt calls, “ready, fire, aim!” Where there is intrigue in potential. Dried fruit, nutella, euro store wine and chit chat with a Neapolitan professor slash wine connosuier (sp?) (who was diggin’ our one-buck-chuck) make trenitalia the best place to enjoy. Between getting lost on the island of Capri as 3 of the 15 people on the land, sneaking into the Hotel Luna and eating their hymsumsim sour plants while running around like banshees in front of security cameras, being the topo-map keeper while only getting us all lost at sunset forcing a hitch hike, realizing we were only ten minutes away from our destination, and running into a pack of mountain goats, the Amalfi Coast was the most entertaining and awe-striking place on the whole earth. (only to be enjoyed while wearing the same clothes for 4 days and nights straight).
Naples is disheveled chaos in a baroque background
(with palm trees and plastic flamingoes).
But secretly beautiful, like Baz Lhurmann placing Romeo and Juliet in 1990’s Venice Beach.
Mt. Vesuvius is a reminder of time.
how it passes, where it is given, how its increments are valued by humans.
We take a boat to our playground, the island of Capri.
Accompanied only
by kids in their colorful coats, women harvesting backyard orange trees.
Chilly fishing town by winter, J.Lo’s getaway by summer
glamour’s ghost.
Casas carved into cliffs, that each morning greeted by the Mediterranean.
Villas del Helios.
Each step along our trail, a different view framed by birds.
If someone had seen this sight before me,
it would surely already be in the hall-of-fame of heaven.
Unless they just kept it for themselves, like I do.
Limitless beauty, nowhere but here.
Skin-itching excitement for the view bound a few steps ahead,
Yet feeling permeating through your eyes in the present moment,
so much that all other senses are lost.
Sirens on land
mermaids swim in the sea.
From which earth’s sky models its color.
Aquamarine gold becomes indigo tangerine in sunset rainstorms
that follow us along our walk.
Evergreen, olive trees, ivy, dandelions, orange trees, moss and tropical lillies
all in one place!
Doves.
Pass kissing lovers,
standing where perfection can be infinite but only captured at one moment,
where you want to be held by someone at the same time,
standing in sure perfection with unsure excitement of love and who its with,
content turbulence.
In Positano
Sit the beach in a sweater
listen to seagull screech, watch fish flop in threaded nets.
Find balance of mountain, sea, village.
Allow the pasticceria to bake pastry smells into your nostrils.
You will know the mailman’s hometown.
Quiet, you will see everything.
Then the “Path of the Gods” leads through the center and away from the coast town Amalfi, bambinos play kickball off the cathedral, limoncello is made through the windows. Salmon colored matchbox houses dwindle, lemon trees multiply; stream becomes a river, trail leads upward. Mountain goats’ bells, crashing waves, mountain height. Literally getting lost (even losing your own stomach), only to find a secret 2 mile staircase off the highway near a handwritten sign that says to amalfi. That noone but us will ever find, ever. Hiking sees what you’re not supposed to. Or what no one else has before.
The breath inside of my lungs was replaced for 4 days by the something, I do not know what. Because the awe of the constant scenes of the Amalfi coast is as mythical as the fish I imagine to be swimming inside the colour of diamonds.
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