May 1: Positano to Sant'Agata

Dinner last night was at Hotel Pupetto, as we were too tired to walk all the way back into town and fight the tourists for room at the dinner table. It was a decent meal, with a nice view out over the water as the light faded. We shared squash flowers stuffed with ricotta and a dish of thick spaghetti with a creamy sauce of zucchini and just a subtle dash of lemon for additional taste. My secondi was rosemary lamb, and Shoshanna’s was thick spaghetti noodles with tons of shellfish. I had a nice craft beer (Belgian white style) and Shoshanna had a half liter of “Costa d’Amalfi” white wine.

It seems we were lucky in actually receiving what we ordered, although we waited quite a while for it to arrive and had to remind them twice about what we’d ordered and to bring our drinks. The headwaiter originally brought us someone else’s meal. The French couple at the table beside us had worse luck, since they actually ate what had been brought to them rather than telling the waiter he'd delivered the wrong meal. They spent a good fifteen minutes arguing politely with the headwaiter and seemingly getting nowhere. Seems like the hotel restaurant was training new staff before the summer tourist season.

We shared our table with what appeared to be a stray cat begging most charmingly for scraps. I say “appeared” because he was well-fed and easily twice the size of most kitties we’d seen, and the only reason we suspected he was a stray was because his fur was fairly dirty. (That is, not frequently brushed.) The waiters all clearly knew the cat, since they shoo’ed him away with more fondness than anger, and the cat quickly returned as soon as they left. Seems like he’s a regular. Needless to say, I fed him a few scraps when nobody was looking, except for a few scornful glances from Shoshanna. He was a real sweetheart, waiting patiently and hinting rather than demanding food, and then graciously allowing me to pet him after he'd consumed my latest gift.

Breakfast at Hotel Pupetto the following morning was nothing special, though it did have protein (scrambled eggs) rather than just carbs. Good enough fuel to get us started, and the coffee was good. Italians don't seem to tolerate bad coffee.

Today was to be our “travel by bus and mostly relax” day. We’d misread the schedule yesterday and thought there was only one bus all day to where we needed to go. (Bad combination of a Sunday with the May day holiday.) I suggested we talk to the hotel staff to find our what our Plan B would be if we missed that bus or if it simply didn't come. They reassured us that there would be many buses during the day, but then warned us we should still get to the stop early because it was a holiday (May Day), and many people would also be wanting to travel between cities.

We set out into a heavy rain that made us glad we wouldn’t be hiking for the next 8 hours, and wound our way up the two switchbacks to the eastern end of town, at the main inter-city bus stop. Basically a wide spot in the road with a tiny, easily missed “Fermata” (bus stop) sign. Here’s the bend in the highway where the bus stops:
Positano inter-city bus stop

The rain was largely over by then, so we relaxed and enjoyed the view. When the bus eventually arrived, we got on with no problem, but a surlier driver I hope never to meet: he didn’t return our greeting, grunted a reluctant acknowledgment in response to my question about whether he would be stopping at our destination, and completely ignored my request to tell us when we arrived at our destination. (The bus winds along the side of a cliff for most of the first half hour of the drive and moves fast, so you don’t get much time to look out the window for signs.) The bus was packed, and we got the last 2 seats at the back; everyone else in line behind us had to stand. And the buttons for requesting a stop weren’t working, and the driver only stopped because I shouted at him to stop when Shoshanna noticed we were close to our destination.

The rain was largely over by the time we escaped the bus, but it was humid and uncomfortable walking for some time. We walked uphill for the next hour and a half towards our agriturismo (a farm that also offers a B&B service), winding our way uphill through back-country lanes and dirt trails among patches of farm field. We passed an aviary with some lovely ducks (though they were motionless, and most were sleeping with head tucked under wing) and then hiked for about 20 minutes through a beautiful pine forest. Not sure what the species was: possibly black (Austrian) pine, because the bark was black with red patches underneath and the needles were long and rigid. Here’s Shoshanna posing scenically along the trail:
Shoshanna of the pines

We arrived at Le Tore shortly after lunch, and turned down an offer of lunch because we’d brought our own snacks, but Shoshanna did order a glass of white wine and we sat by a delightfully warm fire. Shoshanna read a Fanny Flagg novel from the lending library; I chose a child’s Disneyfied (Donald Duck) history lesson about the Roman empire to test my Italian. After all, I’ve promised a colleague Fabio, who we’ll be meeting in Firenze, to get my Italian to the “really slow six-year-old" level. I’m on target.

Le Tore is lovely: it's got that clean country vegetation odor, and flowers everywhere. Here’s the rose trellis outside the door to the dining room, and the friendly dog guardian. Also Shoshanna:
Le Tore rose trellis

A hiking group similar to On Foot Holidays was just finishing their lunch and getting ready to head out. However, these guys were rank amateurs compared to us grizzled veterans. They had three guides taking them in hand for their hike -- including one who was driving a shuttle bus to pick them up at various points along the route if they flagged and to bring them down to their hotel in Sorrento. The leader even lectured them about basics such as the need to stay hydrated, the need to watch out for developing blisters if their boots were new, and how to use hiking poles safely. Shoshanna and I exchanged snickers about imagining them facing some of the hikes we’d just completed in the past 5 days.

After taking a nap, we walked about 20 minutes down a gentle slope into the town of Sant’Agata. The weather had changed from cool and humid to sunny and very pleasant. I'd been craving something salty and suffering from chocolate withdrawal, so we went to a tiny convenience store, not much bigger than a large walk-in closet. It was called “Non solo vino” (not wine alone); despite being packed to the roof on three of the four walls with bottles of wine, it did actually have a few other options. I snagged a bag of chips that Shoshanna and I hoovered down during our walk into town, and a large Lindt chocolate bar for later.

Then we wandered for an hour, enjoying the sights. Most bizarre was what appeared to be an open-air male-only smoker’s bar, where a creepy local guy tried to lure us in, leering at Shoshanna all the while. Here’s their signboard, which is itself kind of creepy (the slogan is “seeing is believing”):
Smoking cats?

I wrote the first draft of this blog entry at around 6 PM as the local church’s bells were tolling in the distance, and revised it about an hour later as the light began fading. Dinner tonight is at Le Tore (included in the cost of accommodation), made from their own organic produce. Should be yummy. As I write this, we’re about to head downstairs and curl up by the fire while we wait for dinner (at 7:30). More later!

Later: Dinner was lovely. We shared a bottle of red wine (probably made at the agriturismo, since it had no label) and started with a thick pasta e fagioli stew, with chewy noodles, fresh beans, and a rich, savory broth. This was followed with a potato cake and two savory tarts: a "pizza rustico", almost like a quiche with ham and egg and a rich crust, and a roasted ciploni (onion) tart. In addition, there was thinly sliced pork and chicken, roasted and marinated. The lettuce salad was less impressive because it was mostly iceberg lettuce, and fresh bread drizzled with their home-made olive oil, which was rich and luscious, but had a bitter aftertaste I wasn’t fond of. Dessert was an amazing cup of strawberries: crisp, perfectly ripe, and served in a light syrup that may well have been alcoholic.

Dinner was even better because we shared the table with an older German couple (probably in their late 60s?), and had a lovely dinner conversation. They shared our love for travel and Italy and had been to many of the places we had been before.

And to answer the burning question from yesterday's entry? Yes, we largely avoided stairs. Close for the night with the angels singing...

May 2: Sant’Agata and surroundings