The Road to Amalfi

I woke up a little off this morning, like there was a sour taste in my mouth. Late start, trying to play catch-up and sort through my weird mood. The 8:00 bus I'd intended on turned into 11:00, with useless hours in between. The bus was packed tight, people cramming into the aisle and next to the driver to fit as many as we could in. As we curved into the mountains, my mood was left at the bus stop, ready to jump on someone else' back. Good day to spend on the coast.

I love the way the bougainvillea cascades off the terraces, painting swaths of bright colors among the homes. I love the gnarly limbs of the olive trees, clinging to the rocks, and the groves of lemon trees surrounding the towns. The towns themselves slope down towards the sea, toppling over each other, all silently watched over by the mountains looming above. Every moment is ready to be snapped up, stamped onto a postcard, but my pictures never do it justice. The road snakes along the edge and the bus kisses the cliffs precariously; the meager guardrail, not even 2 feet tall, disappears as we round a curve and I involuntarily gasp at the plummet.

I get off early, my stomach and head straining against the winding road, and find myself in Praicano, one of the smaller towns. By chance (or a well-thought business plan), I stumble into a trattoria overlooking the duomo on the sea. My body relaxes as I indulge in linguini and espresso, and I allow my earlier plan of all day hiking to fall away.

I've been thinking about solo travel a lot the past 2 days - yesterday meandering through the hectic streets of Napoli, and today on this breathtaking coast. Upon hearing of my month-long trip and the 1/2 I'd be spending 'alone', those who've  embarked on solo travel would get a look of excitement, understanding the beauty of it. Those who have not would often have traces of fear in their smiles. They would tell me I'm brave, ask extra questions about my safety, and assure me that I would meet others and make friends. I would smile and nod - oh not so much; yes, very safe; yes, lots of friends.

The thing about traveling alone is that you get to experience a freedom that isn't available otherwise. There are downsides, of course - this afternoon, I would have loved to have someone to turn to and say "this is so fucking cool." - but even a small dose of this kind of trip allows for more intense self-exploration, a different appreciation for the places you go, and a rather fantastic sense of self-confidence. Everything is where, when, and how you want (local conditions permitting) and you lose all of those small concessions we make when traveling with others. The anxieties, the expectations, both real and imagined, created when existing with travel partners are abandoned when it's just you. Going places where you'd normally venture with others, eating out alone, and exploring the bar scene are not as terrifying as you think. The whole experience is something to treasure.

I eventually find myself in Amalfi and walk swiftly past the shops and restaurants to put in a short hike. Just past the houses, surrounded by lemon groves, the rain sets in, and I realize that I've forgotten my umbrella. I end up in a grassy nook thing under a kind of bridge (apparently I should have brought an English dictionary along with my Italian one) and sit down to wait out the rain and finish my thoughts. The smell of lemons lingers stronger in the drizzle, and I smile because this day has turned out perfectly. I pack my electronics in plastic bags as the clouds move on and - against my better judgement - head up into the hills.

Peace & love

Elyse

P.s. I'm writing this on my phone on one of those newfangled app things, so I have no idea if this will load correctly on a computer. If not, I'll fix it in 3 1/2 weeks.