Buongiorno,
When we left you last time we were leaving Croatia and heading to what on our last trip was our favourite place on earth – The Amalfi Coast. To get there we needed to catch 3 ferries then drive to the other side of Italy, ending in the absurdly narrow and twisting Amalfi Coast road, which just to complicate things is carved haphazardly into the cliff face. The travel started well enough, with our large vehicle being passed from ferry to ferry until we hit Bari. But it was getting off the ferry in Bari that gave us some issues.
Normally on these ferries the staff wait until the tightly packed trucks have started to disentangle themselves, and there is enough space to safely send passengers down to their vehicles. But on this ferry it seems that the Croatian crew had skipped their e-learning regarding not squashing passengers. At the very least you’d have to think if you crush your customers it would have a drag on repeat business. So it was a surprise when we were shoved out of a lift with 2 kids and suitcases to have our noses jammed against a truck as it started rumbling. I haven’t been that uncomfortable with my nose that close to something since being talked into trying a 69’er as a teenager. And there appeared nowhere to go – so two startled parents and two scared kids scraped along a wall, regretting the extra croissant with breakfast while I slid luggage under truck wheels. Like Indiana Jones in a skirt and without a wookie (wrong movie?) Krys managed to bang on a door until someone opened it, and we managed to scramble into an enclave before we became one of those characters you see hanging off a truck bumper bar (I would have made a particularly sloppy Woody). So it was quite the start to the morning.
After our morning almost pancaking, the rest of the drive across Italy was fine until we hit the infamous Amalfi Coast road. Last time we were here we were in a bus driven by a maniac local driver (we seriously thought he had a death wish) and that was scary enough. This time we were in our Renault people mover and I was at the wheel. The road becomes impossibly narrow, allowing barely space for one car to squeeze around twisting corners that are perched precariously on top of a cliff – but through all this the road remains two way, and populated mainly by Italian drivers in their small cars who treat the road like a time trial. Trying to navigate our people mover through some of these turns with traffic was like watching an elephant squeeze through a turnstile. After feeling like we narrowly avoided about 8 head-on accidents I found a strategy – let a local bus go past then stick to it like sh#t to a blanket. To be honest I’m not sure how sticky sh#t is on a blanket as I’ve never experienced it? And I’m surprised so many people have had the experience such that it has become a common saying? Anyway, once the bus went past it was like tucking in behind the large and impatient Samoan man I saw pushing through the crowds at Miranda Fair during Christmas shipping in 2010 – we could settle in behind as the crowds were parted for us.
But the stress of the trip was all worth it when we finally arrived at our first Amalfi Coast town – it was just as beautiful as we imagined. Small towns of pastel coloured buildings cascading down the side of mountains and into impossibly blue water all surrounded by groves of lemon trees. But while the beauty was consistent, our experience this time with kids was very different. We were given a very clear idea how much on our first beach visit. Just to the right of us was a couple pushing the boundaries of appropriate amorous behaviour in public; the girl would dribble her drink down her partners chest, culminating in a little pink coloured alcoholic pool in his belly button. Then she would provocatively sweep down his chest with her tongue before lapping and nuzzling at his belly button cocktail. I was beside them also licking things with my tongue, but mine was congealed ice cream off a kids arm as we didn’t have wet wipes to clean up the mess that dribbled down to their elbows. And instead of sweet nothings in the ear, my licking was accompanied by the kids giggling as they told me that they had just weed on me in the ocean (it has become a favourite tick of theirs).
But the most interesting time of Amalfi came on the morning of my birthday. It was a leisurely morning lazing in bed with Olivia as she had woken up before Emelia. Then for some inexplicable reason (maybe she thought mummy was going to start lapping at daddy’s belly button? Don’t worry bubba – you are safe – your arrival into this world plus the fact that drinking wine every day has changed my belly button into a shape like a forced smile has ended that) she swan dived off the bed headfirst onto the concrete floor. Now kids bump their heads all the time but this was different. And when she started convulsing, saying she was tired, and her eyes started rolling back in her head it was panic stations. I called our Airbnb host who called an ambulance, and within 5 minutes the wailing of sirens were at the bottom of the apartment. They checked Olivia briefly before bundling her with me into the back of the ambulance for the rollercoaster ride to the nearest hospital about 15mins away. But this is where it got embarrassing – here I am holding my daughter as she gets checked for a potential head injury while being whisked to hospital, but the drive careering around the corners of the Amalfi Coast road while looking backwards was making me sick. So I had to ask the paramedic for something to throw up in, and for the driver to slow down. The look on his face as he gave me a bag and asked the driver to make his way to the hospital with a little more caution conveyed an Italian ‘harden the f#ck up’. Thankfully by the time we got to the hospital Olivia was being her old self (being impossibly cheeky) and after some observation she was released back into the world. I think they wanted to keep me longer to conduct tests as to whether I had a penis after my “my motion sickness takes precedence over a potential fractured skull for my daughter” performance in the ambulance. But thankfully I was allowed to leave too, and mum and dad were left to start drinking at 10am to deal with what we had just been through. While Italy can be at times frustratingly chaotic, when it really mattered we couldn’t have asked for a more organised or caring response.
Thankfully our hospital experience was the peak of stress for our time in Amalfi, and the rest of the time was more relaxed. The main stress we needed to avoid was when Italian passion flared around us (which was often – the Italians really are a passionate people). We saw this really explode twice; first on the public bus ride from Ravello. We had spent a wonderful day wandering around the hilltop town, including a lunch where the owner of the hotel had set up a Facetime with his young son at home to try and kindle a relationship between him and Emelia. Emelia didn’t really show much interest but if a marriage meant constant travel and free accommodation at Ravello, I was considering committing her to future marriage. Sure she’s 4, but she’d grow to love him? But for the bus ride home there seemed to be genuine confusion over where the line started to wait for the bus that would career us down the mountain and back to Amalfi. And neither end of the elongated snake was willing to relent. And the lateness of the bus meant the the snake was more like a thick writhing python by the time it showed its face. Once the bus stopped and the doors opened it was like watching a snakes tail and head dive for the door at the same time, creating a log jam that then descended into pushing, yelling and threats of violence. A couple of Italian grandmothers started castigating the crowd and trying to make way for us and the kids but we decided that waiting 10mins for the next bus was a more sensible course of action rather than pushing our way into an Italian MMA cage match. So the fight continued without us.
Our other Italian passion episode occurred at a little restaurant across from our hotel. Krys and I were well into the lemoncello for dessert when we saw the punchy owner chase a recently departed group down the laneway. He didn’t catch them so returned to berate one of the waiters for giving that group the wrong (and obviously lower) bill. What would normally be defused behind closed doors instead descended into a screaming match in the middle of the tables, with some phrases making the normally unflappable customers tilt their heads. Mid argument the waiter needed a cigarette so reached onto a table to grab a flickering decorative candle to light it while continuing to yell forcefully. It all ended with a waiter storm out and the owner walking back into the restaurant to find random staff to yell at, before he reappeared at our table to politely ask how we enjoyed our meal. It was like going to the zoo and watching a meerkat get clubbed to death with a crowbar before a zoo employee wanders over to ask ‘so did you like seeing the animals’. Given I’d received enough of a tirade from Krys that morning for again failing to put the empty toilet roll in the bin I just nodded meekly and said ‘fine thanks’.
We have since taken on some walks that in hindsight were probably beyond us, and Krys has got herself into a European swimsuit, but more on that later….
Ciao.
Trent, Krystal, Emelia, and a head injury free Olivia
smallthoughts 