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.'