A Mysterious Glance of the Costiera Amalfitana - TWC Travels #2

Ahh, the Costiera Amalfitana. Images of sun, sea, limoncello, winding mountain roads that seem to hang suspended between mountain and sea rush into mind, blending into each other in an Italian dream. And tiny villages magically frozen in a slide to the sea on the mountain sides.

After two smooth nights at sea, with a day in Catania in between, the ship suddenly turned to face Salerno, and there, in all its jaw-dropping majesty, stood the Amalfi Coast.

Thick clouds veiled the mountain tops. Wisps floated down the valleys, giving the place so usually associated with sunny holidays an utterly mystical feeling. Veiled secrets and legends running along the winding valleys and narrow streets of the villages came floating to my mind.

It made me stop and stare for what seemed like hours, imagining myself exploring the place as a historical explorer back in centuries past, meeting fishermen with strange tales of pirates and of course the mythical sirens who lured in anyone who dared pass too close to this beautiful coastline with enchanted singing until they were wrecked on the treacherous rocks. Ulysses is perhaps one of the few people who heard their singing survived to tell the tale.

I strained my ears hard for the sirens' music, but modernity has certainly silenced their magical voices once and for all. All I could hear were ship's engines almost drowning out the sound of the waves and the seagull's cries. Gone are the fishermen telling mysterious tales and fishwives cooking mouthwatering fish dishes. In has come the money machine of mass tourism, five star restaurants and beach resorts, and visitors in their millions to experience the natural beauty of this place. And stripping away the soul.

As a traveller on a very low budget, I depend on finding hosts on websites such as Couchsurfing whenever wild camping is simply not possible. In such a highly touristic area, both options proved ultimately impossible, and coupled with the generally high prices of food which were to be expected, I again postponed a visit.

Perhaps this way this place will remain the way I described it in my mind. Perhaps visiting will just lead to a complete and utter disappointment when that image is remorselessly wiped away. Meanwhile, Napoli beckons, luring me towards it with more than a hint of a scent of pizza.