Sunday Stroll
December 11, 2011
Amalfi Piazza on a Sunday after was my intention.. Yet, plans are not in the stars for this trip. Ended up on the path to Minori. Ancient stone stairway to the best beaches of the Amalfi Coast. So fun the twisting and turning in the narrow passages. Footpaths centuries old weaving through fragrant lemon orchards topped with blankets of teal, emerald and black. The sea beckoned, the first tidal sounds of this trip.
Neglected to bring water and gauging the distance of the winding steps was beyond my experience. Knowing that returning up the incline would be a challenge no matter my prep, I erred on the side of caution (so not me) and reversed my course after an hour plus. Windless every 50 steps, there was much time for sea gazing while at rest. Longing to be next to the hues of blue, to taste the salty air.
Climbing was invigorating and each turn produced another villa. Up, up and more up when I caught the name of a pretty courtyard then realized that it was my entry. The foot path to Minori begins steps from my exit. The homes and orchards I passed are those I've been photographing. I had walked through the lovely village below my terrace, spoken to a resident, smiled at Christmas door decorations and eavesdropped on Sunday chatter.
Arduous paths can be soul crossings.
Neglected to bring water and gauging the distance of the winding steps was beyond my experience. Knowing that returning up the incline would be a challenge no matter my prep, I erred on the side of caution (so not me) and reversed my course after an hour plus. Windless every 50 steps, there was much time for sea gazing while at rest. Longing to be next to the hues of blue, to taste the salty air.
Climbing was invigorating and each turn produced another villa. Up, up and more up when I caught the name of a pretty courtyard then realized that it was my entry. The foot path to Minori begins steps from my exit. The homes and orchards I passed are those I've been photographing. I had walked through the lovely village below my terrace, spoken to a resident, smiled at Christmas door decorations and eavesdropped on Sunday chatter.
Arduous paths can be soul crossings.