Driving the Amalfi Coast

The long weekend for Italy’s Independence just happened to coincide with the time we decided to drive into the Amalfi Coast. Ignorantly, we decided the short seventy-nine kilometre drive to the ancient Greek ruins of Paestum would be a doddle for us.

Just a few cliff side roads to negotiate, a couple a picturesque towns to admire on the way and beautiful blue-green ocean lapping to our right.

We did have a wonderful day. The mostly intact ruins were spectacular and the museum held some particularly fine tomb paintings.

We even visited a buffalo mozzarella farm and sampled the creamy buffalo gelato and bought some buffalo steaks for dinner.

For the driver, it was arduous. Buses have right of way on the twisting roads choked with tourists like us, and when they appear around blind corners they can set the nerves on edge. They squeezed past the brand new leased car, its shiny paint work in danger of having a SITA bus company logo transferred to its door or being gouged by the rock wall on the sea side of the road. Motorcyclists zipped suddenly in and out of the conga line and bold or foolish youngsters followed dangerously in small Italian cars. 

Lots of noise was made, we held on, and sudden and unsolicited advice was regularly given to the man behind the wheel. I don’t know how the driver survived the seven hour drive. Dave did well. I sat in the back like all good back seat drivers should.

 

 

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