How I spent my summer (well, actually we were there from Sept 1-13th, so I guess it was technically fall) vacation: Listening to the waves. Reading books. Watching the students on the Spanish steps. Drinking wine. Taking long walks. Catching up with friends. Sitting in the sun. Marveling at the ruins. Learning to love olives.

Sure, I did a lot of the “required” activities. We went to the Vatican, daytripped to Capri, saw Ravello, toured the Colosseum… But, for the first time, this trip wasn’t about doing what we were “supposed” to do. It was truly a vacation. We did things at our own pace, and did only what we wanted to do. And, for the first time in years, I was really, truly relaxed.

It was wonderful. Trip report to follow…

Your vacation ( especially the olive part!) sounds like heaven to me. This is exactly how I like to "tour" Europe! Can't wait for your trip report!

I agree, it will be nice to read a kindred spirit's report. That is exactly how I travel now too!

Bring it on!!

Hi KikiLee, another one who would love to read your trip report. I feel fortunate as I have been to all the "have to see sites and sights" and now when I go to Italy I can just move as the spirit moves me. It is paradise quite frankly. So do tell us about your beautiful and relaxing time in Italy. Best wishes.

ttt

Hi Kikilee-
I would love to read your report, and compare olives with you! I was there at the same time, and I'm also one who takes each day as it comes when in Italy, and savors each moment. Looking forward...

Thanks for the encouragement! We had a very different trip to Italy last year (see my report “Drive Fast, Eat Slow” for details) and, while there are definitely positives to the whirlwind vacation (I have limited funds and vacation time, and there’s a whole wide world out there), I must say that this trip was a dream. Of course it helps that after that first trip I made a commitment to myself to go to Italy at least every other year, so I no longer feel the need to see everything on every trip.

Day One: Travel

The characters: 5 26-year-old females, 4 from Manhattan, 1 from LA. We have traveled together before (five days in Napa in February), but this was our first international trip as a group.

N and W spent a semester in Italy in college, and had thus seen the major sights. W retained a basic command of Italian, while N’s communication skills in Italy, even back then, consisted mainly of detailed pointing and pantomime. V toured Rome last year, while L and I had been to Italy but not Rome. The three of us could say the basics – please, thank you, where is, white wine, red wine, more wine – which, at least in Rome and Positano, is really enough. I mean, it’s vacation - you are ordering lunch, not discussing Proust.

The trip started off a logistical nightmare. N and I (the only two who actually show up places on time, with the proper documents, etc.) were flying NY to Rome via London. V was coming from LA. L had spent the previous 4 days in London, and W was coming from Provence via Prague. We knew that it would be a small miracle if we managed to find each other in Rome.

Flew American Airlines from JFK to LHR. The flight was delayed over an hour and a half, causing N and me much stress, as we had only three hours to make our connection in London, and had to switch terminals (we had booked the NY-LHR and LHR-FCO legs separately to save money, so we weren’t sure how much help we would get if we missed our second flight). And N and I are the type of people who actually show up to the airport the requested two hours before flight time, so the anxiety level was high. Luckily, I continued my long-standing tradition of NEVER having a flight leave from Heathrow on time, so we made it in plenty of time. Uneventful Alitalia flight, and finally, we were in Rome…

Day Two - Rome

Arrived in Rome at 1:00 pm. Breezed through customs (they happened to open a new line just as we walked up) and followed the clearly marked signs for the train to Termini. Purchased tickets from the tobacco store next to the track (about 10 euros), made sure to validate, and hopped on board.

A half hour later, we pulled into Rome. Based on advice on this forum, we had reservations at the Hotel Des Artistes near the train station. (Via Villafranca 20, www.hoteldesartistes.com) As the hotel is only 6 blocks from the station, we decided to walk. Next time, we will take a cab. After 18 hours of traveling, and still lugging suitcases, that's a long six blocks.

Artistes perfectly suited our needs (we were looking for an inexpensive hotel, needed a quad room, and wanted the convenience of staying near the train station), and I would enthusiastically recommend it. However, please understand that this is NOT a luxury hotel. It is a basic, clean hotel, filled with young people and families. (Basically we are talking one step up from a hostel. In fact, one of the floors may actually be a hostel, though I was never able to quite figure that out.) The front desk has a friendly, English-speaking staff, and there is a gorgeous roofdeck, which is perfect for sipping a glass of wine. We paid 126 euro (cash rate) for a quad room, with an extra 30 for a cot. (L had decided to join us last minute, and I was able to arrange the cot through the live web chat on their website, extremely convenient.) The remote for the air conditioner did not work at first, but they came with a new one within 10 minutes, and otherwise we had a terrific stay. The room was small (especially with the extra cot) but for the price it was a fantastic value.

By the time N and I had showered, W had arrived. Unfortunately, her luggage had not. It had been located in Prague, and was due to arrive in Rome at midnight. This posed something of a problem, as, while they were happy to deliver it to our hotel, they could not guarantee delivery before 3, and we were leaving at 2 for Positano. And we didn’t know the exact address of the villa in Positano to have it shipped there. So W made plans to get up early the next morning to go retrieve it from the airport. Not ideal, but hey, we were in Rome…

So off to explore, but first a snack of rocket and tomato pizza. Oh, those tomatoes… Bright red, juicy, delicious… They rivaled Jersey tomatoes at the height of summer. Produce perfection. (Or so we thought, until we found the olives.)

Spent the rest of the afternoon wandering. Saw the Piazza Rebublica, window shopped on Via Cavour. Returned to the hotel by 7:30 to enjoy a bottle of wine on the roof and wait for V, whose plane had been scheduled to land at 6:00.

8:00 passed. Then 8:30, and 9. Finally, at 9:15, our red-headed whirlwind friend V came storming in. A quick change, the front desk’s call for a cab, and we were off to dinner.

We had dinner at Osteria Della Frezza (Via Della Frezza 16, www.gusto.it) , where V had been once before. Fantastic. It’s a stylish, attractive space, part of a complex that also includes a wine bar and a ristorante. They have an amazing formaggeria, and our cheese plate was gorgeous. I only wish that our waitress had been a little more helpful in describing the cheeses, but hey, I can’t exactly blame her for the fact that I don’t speak the language. Several courses, with wine, tip, and cover, came to 36 euros a person. HIGHLY recommended.

Full and happy, we returned to the hotel, where L had recently arrived. Hooray! Our party was complete! Let the adventure begin…

please, let the adventure continue--waiting for more1

Hey Kikilee,

Isn't jetlag a b----? Reliving your adventure here for us would bring you a surge of energy and us a surge of trip envy!

Looking forward to more, K.

Kiki,
We have also stayed at the Hotel des Artistes. Although it isin't the fanciest place in the world, it is close but not too close to Termini and we also enjoy the roof garden (great place for evening wine drinking).

Sorry that it has been so long since the last post. Coming back from vacation, they actually have expected me to do work around here...

Day Three – Rome to Positano

Poor W had to get up at the crack of dawn to head to the airport to pick up her luggage. The rest of us took our time getting ready and wandered down to breakfast (well, actually up, the front desk and breakfast room are on the 5th floor of the building). No matter how low maintenance we go – and for this trip we went VERY low maintenance – curly haired stayed curly, straight hair stayed straight, and freckles and chapstick replaced any makeup routine – with five girls and one bathroom, getting everyone ready and out the door takes forever. So we were just finishing breakfast (the hotel provides a pretty good spread with rolls, meat, cheese, yougurt, and juice) when W returned. We asked the man at the front desk to call Peppe, the owner of our Positano villa, to arrange to pick up the keys and, having agreed to meet him at Bar Internazionale at 7:00 that evening, went off to explore.

As we had limited time in Rome, we decided to cab to Piazza Navona, and then sightsee from there, working our way as far back to the hotel as time permitted. Saw the Pantheon. Threw coins over our shoulder at the Trevi fountain, although our various guidebooks had conflicting opinions as to why this is a tradition. (Our favorite said that it was to ensure that next time you visit the fountain you will be in love. Fingers crossed, people!) Marveled at just how old everything is, and how bizarre it is to have ancient ruins sitting in the middle of a modern, busy city.

Grabbed some sandwiches for the train, hopped a can back to the hotel, picked up our luggage, and set off for the train station to begin the trek to Positano.

This should have been easy. I had directions from my fellow Fodorites (thanks, especially, to GAC) and I knew that we wanted the 1:45 to Salerno. But I hadn’t realized that the 5 of us (with all of our luggage) would have to split into two cabs to get to the train station, and that those two cabs would drop us off at two different taxi stands, and that we would waste 25 minutes simply trying to find each other in bustling Termini. Nor had I counted on the fact that the first ticket machine we tried, as precious seconds ticked away, would be broken. Or, when we panicked and gave up on the machines and decided to brave interminable lines to talk to an actual human, did I anticipate that the ticket seller would explain, through a combination of her bad English, our worse Italian, and a lot of pantomime, that 2nd class was completely sold out, and that there were exactly 5 tickets left in 1st class, and that they weren’t even sitting together. No matter at that point, we paid the 37 euros, grabbed the tickets and our luggage, and hurled onto the train with seconds to spare.

Once at Salerno, we bought our tickets and waited with the other confused and tired tourists for the bus to Amalfi, and the subsequent bus to Positano. The bus rides were actually quite pleasant – the view is all that has been described, and more. But the next time I go to Positano (and there will be a next time), I am flying into Naples. So much easier that way.

We arrived in Positano at Bar Internazionale with 25 minutes before Peppe was due to arrive with our keys. At that point we were cranky, sweaty, and exhausted, tired of lugging suitcases from one form of mass transit to another. Which is when we learned a Very Important Travel Lesson Number One: never underestimate the restorative powers of gelato, pastries, and prosecco. By the time Peppe arrived (on time!), we were back to our usual smiling selves.

Dinner that night was at a place called Gabriza on the main road, about a third of the way to the beach. Very Important Travel Lesson Number Two: do not order veal in a seaside town. Other than my mammal mistake, the food was fantastic. Full and tired, we hiked the many, many stairs back up to the villa and collapsed into bed.

The Villa

OK, OK, I guess technically it was more of an apartment than a villa. But when you are five girls on your Italian holiday, “villa” it shall be called.

We rented the villa through Cutty Sark. http://www.italy-rental-villa.net/english/19.php (900 euros for the week, plus a 150 euro refundable security deposit and a 50 euro cleaning fee.) The villa was a dream! It looked like the pictures, but better. Two bedrooms, one with a queen sized bed and one with twin bunkbeds (so it’s clearly not appropriate for two couples, but for us it was perfect). A living room with a pullout couch, kitchen, dining nook, bathroom (yes, again one bathroom for five girls), and, best of all, a huge, gorgeous terrace. While the furniture was somewhat chintzy (but hey, I wouldn’t spring for good furniture if I rented a place, either), the architectural details – arched ceilings, huge windows – were gorgeous. Every night as we went to sleep, N and I would dozily discuss the grand Martha Stewart projects we could complete if we actually owned the villa.

One note: the villa is at the top of town. For those not familiar with Positano, let’s just say it is a vertical town. To get to the beach from the apartment required a climb of 757 stairs (over 50 flights). (There is a bus that drives through the town, but we never took it. We stuck with the stairs or hiking up the road.) For anyone who has mobility issues, this is obviously not the place. But, for us, it just meant that we could justify the extra olives…

I know it has been awhile, but here's the next installment...

Day Four – Positano

Woke up to a gorgeous sunny morning. Our villa was oh-so-conveniently located right next to a small grocery, a fruit store, and the aforementioned Bar Internazionale. We began the day, in what was to become a morning tradition, with phenomenal cappuccinos at BI. (As a girl who is accustomed to her venti skim lattes with sugar-free hazelnut syrup, the joy that can be gained from a real cappuccino with full-fat milk and Italian espresso was astounding.) Then off to the grocery to pick up yogurt and cereal for breakfast, and wine, water, meat, and cheese for lunch. The fruit store provided basil and tomato, and then it was back to the villa to do…

Nothing. Blissful, glorious nothing, away from the sounds and smells and demands of the city. We spent the morning sunning on the terrace, squeezing lemon juice and olive oil into our hair and reading selections from the assortment of 20-something books we had brought. (I managed to easily pack for two weeks using only a carry-on, but I think that the books took up the majority of space in my luggage.) We prepared our fabulous feast for lunch al fresco, and then decided to walk down to the beach.

And so we walked. Down many, many stairs. We are all in our twenties and in fairly decent shape and go to the gym several times a week. Yet by the time we reached the bottom, our calves were quivering. I cannot emphasize this enough – if you are staying at the top of town, make sure to hit the Stairmaster before your trip!

Positano has a large private beach with chairs and umbrellas, and a smaller public beach. As it was late in the day we decided that it wasn’t worth it to pay the 10 euros for the private beach, and spent the afternoon with the plebians. The water was a gorgeous turquoise, our skin was getting brown (or, in my case, freckled) and life was good.

Back up the (many, many) stairs for naps and showers before cocktail hour. Luckily, the scenery was beautiful, and we kept pausing, ostensibly to admire the views. In reality, I needed to catch my breath!

That first day we also instituted vacation tradition number two: the terrace cocktail hour. Every evening, in the hour after the good sun but before dinner, we would open a bottle of wine or two. Our Italian gato would come by (we became quite good friends with this little local cat) and keep us company while we spent an hour chatting and enjoying the good life. And eating olives.

Ahhh, the olives. Let me start by saying that I do not like olives. I find them too salty and oily. I drink gimlets, not martinis. So when W picked up a package of olives from the refrigerator section of the grocery, I wasn’t expecting much. But these olives!!! They tasted like actual fruit – like soil and sunshine and green. They were packed in water, and were large and green, and I loved them. So it was a good thing we had all of those steps, since we polished off a package of those babies every night.

We had dinner reservations that night at Café Positano, which we had chosen because they have marvelous tables outside overlooking the water. Unfortunately, a torrential downpour started around seven and did not let up, so we were forced inside for our meal. Eh. Definitely a place that skates by on atmosphere rather than cuisine. But bad food with good friends in Italy is still pretty good.

We hiked up the stairs back to the villa (still miserable, but at least now I had a goal – calories burned had to equal olives eaten) and bed.

Day Five – Positano

Another beautiful morning on the Amalfi Coast. We threw on our bathing suits, grabbed our water bottles, and headed down to the beach. For the bargain price of 10 euros a person, we got chairs on the private beach, and spent the day sunning, swimming, reading, and generally doing a whole lot of nothing. Yes, it might seem somewhat extravagant to spend 50 euros for the privilege of a beach chair, when there was a perfectly good public beach right next door. I’ll admit it, it was. But what’s vacation without a little extravagance? And the convenience of the umbrellas and tables and chairs made it worth it, to us.

That morning, we booked tickets for the next day’s trip to Capri (you must do this in advance) and, based on the advice of this board, called La Tagliata for dinner reservations.

After the mandatory cocktail hour, we headed out to meet our driver in front of Bar Internazionale (La Talgliata is located in Montepertusso, above Positano, and will send a van for you if you call). Our driver was charming and stops to show us the best views from the road. The restaurant is charming and homey. Our waiter is charming and handsome and dreamy in that only-in-Italy way, and I will admit that there was much blushing and giggling at our table. The middle-aged American man seated next to us thinks that he is charming once he has consumed a bottle of wine, and his long-suffering wife has obviously given up caring and merely rolls her eyes and grins at us. The food is fantastic, and everyone is in a celebratory mood. It’s a fantastic night.

We return home and the rest of the girls complain that their stomachs ache. I am fine, and we all head off to bed at around midnight…

…And I wake up at two convinced that my stomach is trying to somehow exit my body. For the next six hours, I am violently ill, catching fretful minutes of sleep on the bathroom floor.

My goodness! Did you find out what had happened?

Great report, keep on please!

Too bad about being ill - hope you recovered quickly. I'm enjoying your report - thanks!

Day Six – PAIN

Very Important Travel Lesson Number Three: one bathroom for five girls is a stretch, but it is certainly do-able. That is, until one of them gets food poisoning.

Now, to be fair, I don’t know that it was food poisoning. Perhaps I merely contracted a virus. And we did have an amazing time at La Tagliata, so I wouldn’t tell anyone not to go. But nevertheless, I won’t be back.

We were scheduled to head to Capri that morning, but by 8:00 it was clear that I couldn’t go. Rather than go without me, the rest of the girls generously agreed to spend another day lounging at the beach and reschedule for the next day. They got me some Coca Light (apparently the Italians don’t drink my stomach flu staple, ginger ale) and crackers, and headed down to the beach.

By noon, I could at least keep water down, and the crippling stomach spasms were reduced to two or three an hour. Oh well, at least I got a lot of rest that day.

The girls came back and made pasta for dinner, and we went to bed early, to rest up for the next day’s trip to Capri.

Day Seven – Capri and Positano

By the next morning I had rejoined the land of the living so it was off to pick up our ferry tickets to Capri. The ferry was supposed to depart at 10, so we joined the large crowd of people waiting as the sizable boat pulled up. People began to board, but when we got to the front of the line, the man indicated that our ferry would come shortly and that what we had to wait. At least that’s what we thought he said. Somewhat perplexed, we waited with 4 other people as the boat pulled away. Fifteen minutes later, when we were starting to panic that we should have been on the ferry after all, a smaller, motor boat pulled up.

With the sickness and our limited Italian I am not sure exactly happened, but I think we inadvertently bought tickets for this smaller boat, which took the “scenic route.” And scenic it was, but the day after your stomach has tried to forcibly leave your body is not a day that you particularly want to be on a small boat, scenic or no. Especially when the man next to you starts vomiting.

Finally we arrived at the dock, and took a bus up to Capri town. We soon realized that the boat had let us off at Marina Piccolo, not Marina Grande, which was a slight problem as all of our guidebooks and such were oriented from Grande. Oh well. We walked through Capri town, which is basically a collection of high-end stores, not unlike 5th Avenue, and walked the road past some of the villas. Lunched in the main piazza, to avoid a quick rainstorm.

Now, I had read that the chairlift was one of the highlights of many people’s experiences in Capri. And we saw the signs for the funicular. And, for some reason, I did not realize that the chair lift and the funicular are NOT the same thing. So I convinced N and W to ride the funicular with me (it actually goes from Capri to Marina Grande) which was singularly unimpressive. If we had arrived via Marina Grande I supposed it would have been an amusing way to reach Capri, but I really couldn’t understand what the fuss was about.

At this point, the rest of the girls were ready for some more beach time. I wanted to see Anacapri. Quite honestly, at this point we were beginning to get on each other’s nerves a bit (I adore my friends, and would happily travel with them again, but sometimes 5 girls is just a lot) so we agreed to separate and meet later at the dock.

I hopped the bus to Anacapri (the buses are extremely easy) and happily spent the next few hours wandering among the quaint little shops and villas. And then I saw it – the chair lift!!

Ah, so this is what everyone was talking about… Riiiiight. I get it now. And yes, when you are next on Capri, you absolutely must ride the chair lift. The views are gorgeous, and sitting up there, high in the air, looking over the fantastic vistas, is just a wonderful experience.

Back in Positano, we decided on an early dinner at Il Capitano. This was probably my favorite meal of the trip. I had a shrimp and citrus pasta that was amazing, and the view over the water was awesome. Highly recommended.

L’s birthday had been the previous week, and with A in California, we hadn’t yet had a chance to celebrate. Since L, like any person with any sort of taste, adores champagne, I had mentioned that we might want to stop by the champagne bar at Le Sirenuse. Of course, since we had gone to dinner straight from Capri and were still in beach clothes, I wasn’t actually suggesting that we go right that minute. The rest of the girls argued that if we went home it would take hours before everyone was ready (true), that we were in a resort town so it was more casual (also true), that our Manhattan beach clothes were probably better than the stereotypical American tourist’s dinner outfit (possibly true, I mean, we were all in skirts and fitted tank tops, and would anyone really know if our hair was styled with saltwater?), that places like Le Sirenuse are too classy to treat you any differently and anyway we are young and fairly attractive so no one really cares (true, to a degree, but not my point. My point is it is most fun to get dressed up and glamorous to go places like that). And sometimes, when it is four against one, you give in and smile. So a cab was called to take us from dinner to the hotel.

20 (!!! Supposedly a set price for the van – a car was too small – but MUCH more expensive than taxis in Rome) euros later, we were deposited in front of Le Sirenuse. To their credit, they were indeed classy, and gave us a fantastic outdoor table in the champagne bar, where we proceeded to order prosecco and chocolate mousse cake and have a generally fabulous time.

Sidenote: Le Sirenuse is GORGEOUS, and when I am rich and famous I will stay there monthly. There is no trace of the corporate feel that pervades many great hotels. The furnishings are antiques, and don’t match exactly. An aura of overall fabulousness pervades. I LOVE it. My honeymoon, whenever it shall happen, will be spent here.