The view to the north from our balcony. Barely visible in the haze: the famed Amalfi Coast.
Balcony view to the east.
Balcony view approximately south, toward Agropoli.
The surf, while not really heavy, was heavier than B remembered it last year. It made a great sound but because there were no rocks to crash against, the water instead made a kind of whooshing sound, like a constant wind blowing through a grove of trees. We left the balcony door open and fell asleep to the sound of the waves, which were only about 150 meters away.
Sunday, we went out to the beach to enjoy the water. Each room has a table assigned to it. There are a couple of lounge chairs there, and an umbrella for shade. The beach is reserved for guests of the hotel but there's no fence separating it from the beach to either side, so vendors walked through on their way to wherever they were going, and back again in the evening.
These vendors were African or Indian / Pakistani, and they carried their wares with them...trinkets of various kinds, sunglasses, stuff like that. They didn't stop on our beach or try to make sales as they passed through. They seemed to understand it would lead to trouble. This region is controlled by the Camorra and I often wondered if the hotel is at least partially Camorra-owned. Also, after reading about the Camorra's dumping and burning of toxic waste, I wonder about the damned water we were swimming in...but it seemed fine, and felt fine.
I like the water, and I enjoy a dip in a lake or pond or ocean once in a while, but for whatever reason I never really saw "the beach" as some kind of paradise I absolutely had to experience. Unlike B, who ought to have been born in Hawaii or some other place where people spend as much time in the water as they do on land. Still, I went in the water four times Sunday, enjoying the feeling of the (not big) waves as they pushed me around, and getting a feel for the currents.
I noticed that if I stood south of a certain spot, each incoming wave gently pushed me slowly south. But if I stood north of that spot, I could stand there all day long without difficulty.
This really wasn't a young person's beach. The guests were at least 40, with most older than that. There were a few people in their 30s with young children. B told me beaches differ---for instance, if our hotel was catering to young people, they'd have some kind of club and there'd be music blaring all the time, and it'd be noisy as hell at night (and the rest of the time.) The quiet was fine with me.
About 1 PM I went for a walk. The hotel is not really near the town proper; you're in a kind of rural area. Walking along, I was sad to see all the litter on the side of the road. It reminded me of America in the 60s before the highway "beautification" programs started. Italy is a beautiful place and the Italians I met were very nice, but there seems to be a kind of Jethro-like disregard for tossing trash. I never actually saw anyone do this, but somebody must have been, judging from the sheer amount of it.
The area reminded me of Southern Arizona...small mountains in the distance, a dry climate, and a bit dusty---though certainly not as hot as Arizona. I'd say it was probably in the high 80s, low 90s. Most of the houses were modest and not really kept in pristine condition. There were a few exceptions, but for the most part the real estate was nothing remarkable.
Walking back along the same road where the Ferrari had passed us the day before, another Ferrari convertible came roaring up behind me. It turned and blasted off down the side road. About ten seconds later, here came another exoticar--I didn't catch the make, but it also turned down that road and screamed off. Days later I walked down that road and didn't find it suitable for extended high speed driving...after a couple of miles, it got rough. But for some reason these guys liked to drive their Ferraris there.
Came back and took a nap to the sound of the whooshing surf. About 3:30, B's parents and sister arrived---they'd flown into Rome and rented a car. They told tales of madness at the Rome airport----they also waited for an hour for their luggage, had trouble at the car rental desk, and had to cope with broken elevators while schlepping their luggage up and down stairs in that giant airport. Not easy for two people in their 80s, who are also watching out for their sight-impaired daughter.
But they made it, and that began a week together. I really like B's family---they've always been very nice to me, and it was good to have a chance to be together with them every day, sharing meals and talking and visiting different places along the coast.
More on that in the next post.
Sun, sky, sea.
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