Virtually there.

More, more, more. 

We are certainly being spoilt for choice here as three new webcams have been set up in Positano. Take your pick of the hour to watch and enjoy splendid photos of the town in sunset and sunrise.

Perched high above in Liparlati (meaning ‘once spoken of ’), one can almost take in the scenery as you would from the town’s gorgeous cemetery which reflects the architectural layout of the town.

 

 

The next camera is placed on the  Buca di Bacco on the main beach, but facing towards Praiano and L’Incanto Beach.

 

 

 

 

And then we are back to the dock area again from yet a different angle, spanning the two towers towards Fornillo Beach.

 

There is even a bride on this one! I hope  that you see it as sometimes these images change…

So with this, I’ll leave you my friends, as my holiday means sporadic internet at best. I’ll try to post occasionally if I can manage to have it installed at my place. Otherwise we’ll see you in September.

Have a great summer!

Rock Solid

I swayed in my seat as the taxi swung round the tight bend. Sea view to my right, I could pick out the large pointed cliff in the twinkling sea below.

“There’s the Germano” I pointed out to my son. “You know, the one that looks like a pharaoh.”

                                             

                                                                    Photo Credit: Francesco Fusco ‘Focus’

“ A pharaoh?”, my cute Sorrentine driver exclaimed, “in our parts, they are inclined to say that it’s a profile of Toto`”.

I’d never thought of the rock in this way. My favorite Neapolitan comic actor had had his profile sculpted by nature.  He’d even starred in a film called ‘Toto` and Cleopatra’.

And now gulls roosted on his nose.

 

Photo credit: Francesco ‘Focus’

“There are others” he said, as I desperately tried to remember the code for turning on my Italian cell phone.

“Yes ?”

I gave up and told my son to ring to say we were arriving.

“I Galli islands, seen from a certain angle coming out of Positano, looks something like a mermaid lying in the water, he replied.

I Galli, which are in fact three small islands just off the Positano Coast, are known locally as ‘Le Sirene’ or ‘the Sirens’ playing on the myth of Ulysses in the area.

In fact, seen like this you can imagine why they got their name. They almost have a feminine profile.

 

   

 

Closer to home, we have this man guarding the seas with the tower above.

 

And these two local blokes on the cliff nearby…

Can you see what I see?

Kreativ Blogger Award

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I’m terrible with awards….

I was given two blog awards some weeks ago from my blogger friends, but have let time slip by before passing them on.

Lola from Aglio, Olio e Peperoncino gave me a Kreativ Blogger Award.  Do go visit her.  She has a wealth of wisdom , witty information and real Italian recipes, and sometimes posts about Positano.

For this award I have to list my seven loves:

1. I love my family.

2. I love to garden. I love my garden.

3. I love to walk on sandy beaches barefoot for hours. A bit of a problem here in Positano.

4. I love early summer mornings in Positano with its sweet soft light and lake-like sea.

5. I love reading. I read *all * the time. Even in the bath.

6. I love storms at Positano, especially at night with the rain pelting down on the domed ceilings and the waves crashing on the shore. A great time for reading in bed (or in the bath).

7. I love to run my hand through the water when we are in a boat.

I’d like to pass this award on to Elra’s Garden blog as she has created a garden of Eden and is deservedly an artist.

And this is for Lola and those of you who share the love of waves crashing on the shore. I took it from our place at Easter.

Honest Scrap Award

Another award was given to me by Ciao Chow Linda back in April, and I guarantee that if you click on this link you will want to lick the screen. Her recipes are mouthwatering.

I’m mean’t to list another ten things about myself, but you don’t have to read them.

1. Put a mozzarella in the fridge in Campania and your husband will have grounds for divorce (MEA CULPA).

2. Cherry tomatoes (piennoli) taste better in sauces after they’ve hung for several months under the eaves.

3. I like to string hot peppers together and plait my onions. No reason why vegetables shouldn’t be decorative before they are eaten.

4. I have a BIG problem with ants in summer at Positano. They come out of every crack imaginable and in a house as old as ours there are a lot. And mostly behind the kitchen cabinets. But I’m not the only one in town.

5. Sometimes I walk down the 350 steep steps to the beach just to have an iced tea with lemon granita at the bar. Then up again.

6. Figs warm from the tree are delicious for breakfast. Just ask my waist.

7. When I go out to eat, I like to order things that I don’t know how to prepare at home. It doesn’t leave much choice at Italian restaurants.

8. I’m beginning to run out of things. I found a lizard in my garlic basket once. He was watching me wash the dishes.

9. A gecko has taken up residence behind a large painting in our living room. We’ve thrown him out several time but he likes it there.

10. My husband likes to cook. He cleans and cooks the fish, which is a relief.

I’ll pass this reward on to:

Anne of Oxfordshire, a friend who surprised me with a beautiful enlargement of her strawberry flower;

Aglio,Olio e Peperoncino;

a hazy moon from Australia;

Ciao Amalfi

Italy Tutto for her great work in grouping all Italian related sites together. You will find any blog that you are looking for here.

Phew!

The Scum Bags

 

Ecostiera published an alarming article showing a video of untreated sewerage being poured directly into the water adjacent to the Marina Grande at Sorrento.  So far in thirty days there have been ten official complaints from ecological movements as it seems to be an occurance which dates from the end of April .

Locals reported large bands of malodorous scum floating along the water’s edge. It’s not a new phenomenon to the area, but the usual response of those who give ‘the tides’ the blame, according to the ecological authorities, just doesn’t hold in 90% of the cases. This is not the only case where the sewerage plants don’t function correctly on the Sorrentine Peninsula.  There have been complaints in at least seven other fractions of Sorrento all along the Coast.

The Blue Flag attributed to Positano’s waters year after year for cleanliness becomes farcical on the days where scum and rubbish float together as one.  I cannot understand why they are awarded the flag, when EVERY year  the water is like this!   Come June/July  and there may be weeks where you can’t put a toe in the water.  This is what I saw last year.   And Sorrento is just around the corner.

To see a video on the reality of Italy doesn’t reassure me for this summer.

Odds and Ends

1. Positano News reported a woman in Sorrento who’d clock into work each day at the hospital as a nurse , then promptly change direction and go and work at her son’s bar.

2. Yesterday morning, a lady cleaning outside at Positano Town hall got hit directly on the head by an empty fruit case which fell from above. She was taken to the Sorrento hospital for first aid. Naturally the afore-mentioned woman wasn’t there.

3. Did you know that the Island of Capri ‘s name derives from ‘goats’ ? Well they are back ! The island will be repopulated by goats in order to keep vegetation down and bush fires at bay. You may even be able to glimpse them from the sea.

4. One knows when The Giro D’Italia hits Positano, by the helicopters hovering above one’s head making an incessant noise, and by the fact that you can walk unhindered along the town road and not have to look out for the bus looming behind you.

5. Remember my mystery neighbour ? The place is now being turned inside out. It looks like someone might move in soon! Keep tuned after summer…

Webcam

If anyone is interested I have just discovered a new webcam over Positano Spiaggia Grande .

It slowly pans the main beach at a close range ( but a little out of focus), so you may recognize people that you know!

Click on the picture for the link then insert ’spiaggia’ as the username and password.

Thank you to some readers for pointing out that you need to install ActiveX control for Internet Explorer to view it.

Saponissimo

A scooter buzzed past the restaurant balcony window at Positano. There were two people on board, the person sitting at the back had long auburn hair streaming out from beneath her helmet. I didn’t think twice about it as we were celebrating my second eldest’s nineteenth birthday and we were concentrated on perusing the menu and filling our stomachs. Or rather, my voracious son’s were. The rest of us were sipping the Prosecco and nibbling on the foccacia, compliments of the house due to her birthday.

My friend unexpectedly appeared in the doorway of the pizzeria. Glowing with the breeze blown hair, her vivacity turned the heads of everyone at the tables. First thing she said was ‘Oh, you’ve gone straight’, referring to my daughter’s normally naturally curly hair. She then presented me with a package containing her handmade soaps in my favourite scents.

Her bubbly personality in keeping with her craft, radiates energy. She’d accompanied us into the mountains a few days back and when I mentioned that I wanted to try her soaps she’d abandoned all, just before her dinner party ( at a time where I’d have been panicking), to package and personally deliver them to me before I left town.

The scents in her soaps are redolent of the wafts of citrus blossom carried through the garden on sea breezes. Their texture's a creamy milk, crafted using the natural ingredients available on the Amalfi Coast. Rich Goats milk features heavily and she goes to great lengths to collect it high in the Lattari mountains at Santa Maria del Castello. The soaps and bath products reflect the chamomile, mimosa (wattle), rosemary, mint, figs, and citrus fruit which revel in the climate and real honey from Positano bees.

They are luxurious products but their affordable price belies the quality of the ingredients. They are a real pleasure to use and to receive.

When we got home from the restaurant in the balmy April night and were greeted by a cloud of fireflies dancing amongst the citrus groves, I was very happy that I could bring a part of the coast back with me; through the memories, the lemons and her soaps.

Click on Saponissimo for Europe or on the banner for Etsy US and try the range yourselves.

The Path of the Gods or How to be Thankful for Roads again.

There came a time where I wondered what the path to heaven actually looked like, so a friend from Positano (an angel in disguise ?) offered to guide me in the mountains above the Coastline.

We rose above the tiny village of Nocelle (by bus) and took the stairs leading up from the houses where the Path of the Gods began. The track was originally that used by villagers to go to Agerola before the road along the coast was built. The path and gardens of Nocelle were full of blue borage flowers, the air perfumed with rosemary growing in the cracks of the rocks. I quickly realized that not all rosemary plants festooning the cliff faces had same intensity of perfume, so I broke off some of the choice pieces to dry and use in roasts.

My eight year old had tagged along to keep her little one company and the kids were off as soon as we hit the path. L. skipped and bounded confidently off the roughly cut rocks with mine following somewhat gingerly behind. You could tell who was from Positano and who was not.

It was late April but the sun was shining and warm and as we followed the narrow dirt track in and out of the mountain curves we became grateful for the cool respite in the glades full of wild cyclamens.

The whole mountain was a mass of flowers. Bushes filled with dainty spring blossoms lined the paths. I spotted wild lavender , broom, chamomile, citronella, and squeezed mirto leaves between my fingers. We even came across a grassy ledge with wild orchids hiding amongst the leaves.

Walk as we might, we always looked like we were on top of San Pietro Hotel. The path followed every curve in the mountain sometimes perilously close to the edges of cliffs.

A gaggle of goats stopped to watch us. We smelt and heard the clanging of their bells before we actually came across them, their red coats shining a henna rinse. Snakes slithered for cover and a scorpion lay slain by a previous hiker. That is the only scorpion I ever intend to see.

The kids had a break for a panino and then came the hard part. My friend had every intention of visiting a small monastery fallen into disuse called San Domenico tucked away in the folds of the mountain near Praiano. When she pointed it out, I thought it an improbable option as no path actually led there (or so I hoped). But she determinedly scouted ahead to see if the track continued down the cliff. We slipped and scrambled our way down steep stony goat-dropping infested paths, mostly on our bottoms, so as not to fall. Just as the path seemed to want to catapult us over its edge, it would twist suddenly and cross to the other side.

But the peril was well worth the visit. Frescoes graced the arches of the church with a simplicity which was refreshing.

A bell was positioned over the town of Praiano.

From then on the going was easy. A long stairwell brought us all the way down the mountain from the monastery to the village of Praiano. Halfway down some very steep stairs, a cardiologist had chosen a corner for his studio. Maybe it was for those who were on their way to the pathway to heaven.

For more info on the Path of the Gods, here is a good site.

Ciao Chow Linda’s has to take all credit for letting me know how to adjust photos for the blog. Take a visit and see her blog for yourself. Thank you Linda !

Technorati Tags: Wild goats,abandoned monastery,Praiano,Path of the Gods,Nocelle,Positano walks

A simple taste of Summer

The sea beckoned in the glorious weather in the week preceding Easter. The morning was such that I was determined to rouse my sleepy kids and make something special from the day. I decided on visiting the town of Amalfi just for the boat trip, and we raced down to the pier to catch the 10am ferry. The dock was crowded with tourists, a little presage, I imagined, of the confusion that we would find in Amalfi, but when the Maria Madre ferry arrived, there were only two others aside from us to board the boat. All the other poor devils were heading for Capri.

I was relieved that I’d left my firearm at home, otherwise I would have had to have thrown it overboard, although none of the crew members actually asked me if I had one. The only things I was shooting, was with my camera.

The sea was calm and the boat pulled smoothly away from the dock just as the ferry for Capri arrived. The silky water churning behind us, we headed off along the coast line.

We were distracted from the beautiful scenery by the incongruous signs on the ferry. Especially the sign in the toilets: ‘To Flush the toilet please switch on the light’. Some simple plumbing going on there.

Then there was the sign about not throwing rubbish overboard. Unless you were a certain distance from land.

The boat pulled into Amalfi and I immediately began looking out for Laura from Ciao Amalfi. We’d never met, so spotting her, based on a simply picture wouldn’t have been easy anyway. I didn’t know it then, but she was on holiday away from Italy at Easter.

We headed straight for the piazza, and must have had the word ‘Tourist’ stamped on our forehead for the waiters looked hopefully our way. The piazza was full of people but mostly bubbling with students. Amalfi is the base for high school for most of the students from Positano , and my kids were spotted by their summer friends immediately. The students were everywhere but in school. ‘Laura’ or Claudio’ would ring out from the tables surrounding the fountain. We’d have to weave our way through the a stream of adolescents coming down the hill in their designer sunglasses so we took the side streets to avoid them.

Chef Chuck had also been on my mind when I went to Amalfi, as his ancestral family is from here and the important D’Afflitto crest lies in the Duomo. The columns on the bell tower are repeated in the cloisters. A mass was on in the church when I entered, being given by the students for the earthquake victims of Abruzzo. Students were reading reflections and prayers , so I was unable to wander around inside and get the photo that he wanted to see.
Sorry Chuck ! !

Having a gander around the touristy shops, I snapped a pic for my sister. Then, dripping ice cream from our cones, we strolled along the pier while waiting for our boat. There were just as many students waiting for the buses as there had been in the Piazza.

A grand-dad was fishing on the edge, string in hand and grand-daughter in tow. Trestle tables of bric-a-brac on offer for charity, jostled for shade with the ‘designer sunglasses for sale, laid on a cloth on the pavement. A young Swedish family, stripped down to their underwear and sloshed in the shallows at the end on the beach.

We headed home just after the students boarded their bus for Positano.

On arriving home, my other half was waiting for us saying that he’d seen us getting off the ferry.

‘Why didn’t you wave back?’ he asked.

‘I couldn’t see you !’ I replied.

It was only after I zoomed in on the photo I’d taken of the house, from the ferry, that I did see him, with binoculars glued to his face !

Sorry for not posting earlier, but I'm trying to get around a technical glitch and post larger photos.

Fornillo Beach

If Mother Nature was really a woman, she'd probably be put on hormonal replacement therapy.

This spring has seen a fluctuation of temperatures and mood swings in the daily weather worthy of any pre-menopausal woman with PMS. The locals, dependent on the sun for the start of the season, look to the skies and pray before putting out their boats and sun loungers. Work has started spasmodically, as morning sun plays games with the clouds bringing downpours in the afternoon. The sea is often in turmoil or libeccio winds blow strongly tinging the water a deep blue.

Tourists poured into the town this weekend in a deluge, because of the May 1st holiday. On Saturday the ferries emptied nonstop crowds on the dock and a river of bodies lined the shores of the main beach. It wasn't the warm weather that we'd had before Easter, but the extra bank holiday was enough to shake the winter lethargy and commuters from neighbouring cities mingled with foreign tourists to create bedlam on the structures of the town.

The irony being that they all went in May to avoid the summer crowds. According to the papers, almost 10,000 people milled in the streets and beaches. No thank you.

Fornillo beach is always quieter. Its the local's beach and this year Mother Nature has been generous, giving the public an ample strip on which to lay their towels. As well as the direction of the tides, the sand that has been dropped in front of the shore has helped and I was happy to see that the barge was at work again picking sand up from the main dock to transfer it Fornillo's way. It had been a very long time that I'd not seen the public area on the Fornillo beach so large.

The construction of the beach bars were well under way before Easter, but the work that the Council is doing behind the beach has been suspended again. Hopefully, it will get underway before the summer season begins.

And perhaps optimistically, they'll even pristine the long stairs which lead to the beach with their long cascades of nasturtiums, euphorbia and what I think is Artemisia or wormwood.

In this case, Mother Nature has certainly done her best.

Snug as a Bug

The snails are enjoying the wet weather this year, even if the locals aren't.

Just a mundane walk to the shops.

Walk with me on my daily shop at Positano.

I no longer go to the Deli nearby for personal reasons, but prefer to shop at the mini market right at the very top of Positano. The walk is a trek up steep stairs but they're preferable to darting in between parked cars to avoid being hit by buses and vans on the narrow road.
There are no sidewalks in Positano, not real ones.


I start off by going downhill in Via Lepanto in a twisting lane that follows the curve of the road. I am always horrified at the rubble and rubbish dumped into the stream here as it ends up directly on the beach. This is where your beach glass and tiles originates from. On my way up to the road, I find that a local has dumped their computer, the screen and the printer in a niche next to a cactus plant. What would it have taken them to bring it the extra few metres to the road and have the council pick it up?



My first flight of stairs has me panting at the finish, but I cross the road and attack the next lot with determination. If I stop, I'm likely not to want to continue!






Legs-a-wobbling, we are finally in the air conditioning of the mini-market. The whole store is probably smaller than my kitchen with tiny trolleys in its four baby isles of goods. If things are not on the shelves they are likely to have them at the back because of lack of storage space. I am only a seasonal shopper there, but they always remember me and my address down to the number, for delivery.


Stepping outside the shop, two orange specks on the mountainside attract my attention.
Are they rock climbers?

But no! On closer look, there's not two but four...and they're tying chicken wire to the cliff-face to prevent rock slides.

After a stop at the bar and fruit shop, its downhill all the way.

I can't help taking a peek through ironwork into enchanting courtyards.

But other than that, I have to watch my steps and hold on to bannister's in some places. Those stairwells are vertical !

A cactus and lemon courtyard.

As I hit Via Lepanto again, a white Pekingese dog wandering in the lane follows me all the way back to our neighbourhood. A lady is sitting on the step just outside our gate. She doesn't move on our approach. Imagining that she is probably a tourist, I ask if I can help her.

'I'm fine', she answers in a English accent. 'I was just admiring your view.'

The Fruit Shop

The fruit shop where I go to in Positano, is little more than a hole in the wall where the poor lady stands weighing vegetables and cashing in. A great deal of dexterity is needed, to cross over bulging bags of fruit to customers without knocking over displays of oil, mozzarella and canned dog food. Even more is required to actually step out of the shop with these bags, as there is always a line of customers with their own bulging plastic in hand, filling the doorway and spilling out onto the street. Any domestic argument between the lady and her husband becomes forcibly public.

Most of the vegetables line the road in cases, picking up car fumes from the busiest street corner of Positano. I try to go on days when I know that the vegetables have arrived fresh from the market and am a very hands on person in choosing the best.

The prices of vegetables at the store, are exactly half of what I pay in Luxembourg. No prices are displayed on the perishable vegetables, as the supply changes each day. The fruit has little more than a corner of torn cardboard thrown into it's box, with a hand-written number in pencil. I need to ask the owner for the price of vegetables as even the boys helping out don't have an inkling of what he charges. He rattles off the price at seemingly the top of his head.

If you like it, you buy it.

When I was in Positano for Easter, I went overboard on the seasonal vegetable front. I'd buy bags of Broccoli Rape to have with the local sausages, lots of fennel and artichokes too. Even the red capiscum were much less expensive than in our Luxembourg summer prices.

Sometimes, there is a pensioner who likes to help out at the shop, rather than sit on the wailing wall at the entrance to the town with the other pensioners and unemployed. He's been nicknamed the Americano probably due to the stint he did in the States.

As soon as I approach, he comes forth, plastic bag in hand, ready to serve me.

Naturally I tell him that I want to have a look first and then start helping myself.

That day I had 'stuffed artichokes' in mind for lunch. Finding out that the price was obviously lacking in zeros, and was still in cents (!), I picked up a bag and chose the firm round ones having being assured, by my other half, that they were tenderer.

L'Americano wanted to strip their foilage and clean them there and then, but I have a composter at home so I said to leave it. Seeing that the bag was full, he then asked how many I'd picked.

I answered six.

'Ma che brutto numero!!! (What an awful number!!), he screeched.

' I carciofi si comprono sempre in numeri dispari ! ( Artichokes are always bought in odd numbers!).

I replied that 'We are six in the family so what could I do about it!'

I wasn't prepared to cook one for the dog. Nor was I going to create a bridal bouquet out of them. So six was fine.

He trotted away disgusted. I can just see the thought bubble. 'These stranieri non capiscono niente! - foreigners are clueless people! '

L'Americano should know...

Rhapsody in Blue

I'm just back from two weeks in paradise. I baulk when I see my brown face in the mirror having become so used to my pale winter skin. I've absorbed the sunshine in the shade.



My garden was singing the blues for me when I arrived in Positano.
It was all so pretty, so fresh, so calm and quiet apart from the sea and the birdsong that I was moved to tears.

The Dutch irises and the bearded irises flowered simultaneously and their light scent mingled with that of the orange and lemon blossom everywhere.

Bees were all a buzz over the wisteria. We spent the warm days walking along the beach, the mountains or simply playing Scrabble and Rummikub with the kids under the pergola. Occasionally we had to retrieve a tile from the gardens below, flipped there by my over-enthusiastic youngest. All our meals were in the open as the weather was positively balmy. It was always fresh seasonal food and I added sage to any thing I could, given the size of the plant.

In the evenings, the gardens surrounding the house came alight with the twinkle of fireflies. It was the magical first time my youngest had ever seen them.


A perfect break.