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     It was a near perfect day. The blue of the sky reflected the scintillating azure of the Mediterranean Sea. Fresh, salty, salubrious air whipped our faces and hands. Our first stop was the exquisite Emerald Grotto. We parked in a little corner of the tiny parking lot and rode an elevator that shot us down some seven stories to the sea. There we transferred to a wide flat boat inside the cave. Unlike the Blue Grotto on the Isle of Capri, this Grotto was nearly empty and the pool blissfully calm. Only one other couple stepped into the boat with us. The tour guide paddled gently around the cavern, fascinating with its naturally carved walls. Fishermen had placed saintly and sacred figurines in many of these niches, and there was even a heavenly-looking Nativity Scene in a large space under the water. It was so clear that we could see the smile on Mary’s face and the dimples on Jesus’ chubby hands. The water glowed with green translucence beneath us. Natural light streaming through an opening to the ocean reflected on the brownish particles of sand to create the emerald colour. Our Guide added to the mysterious enchantment of our silent ride by lifting his paddles and letting the water stream and drip as thousands of sparkling green-tinted stars. It must have been an optical illusion but a truly mystical one.

     Back up we went, onto our little scooter. We meandered around many more curves before stopping at a particularly scenic lookout. I hopped off the bike to sit upon an inviting stone bench, perched precariously near the edge. Someone had scrawled a message on its seat:

     Pasqui, Sole della mia vita, luce della mia ombra, stella de la mia notte!

     (Pasqui, Sun of my life, light of my shadow, star of my night)

I sighed. Dreamily. Young love...

     Well the old lovers needed to get going so off we went to our next stop on a bridge overlooking a chasm, where low and behold, below us lay a tiny fishing village. Other than the inlet of water, access to this collection of houses appeared to be by thousands of stone steps leading down from the highway to the sea. Surely the people in this little place didn’t have to walk up those steps to get to their local grocery store! They must use boats for all their errands, we agreed. It amazes us how people accommodate to what appear to be geographic impossibilities.

     We were able to drive our scooter right into the central part of Positano. We found a motorcycle parkade to park in, and walked towards the ocean. Positano is a lovely town with a main street, for pedestrians only, that wound its way steeply down to the ocean. The street is covered by a shade-screen on which grew brilliant scarlet bougainvillea. Colorful one-designer boutiques and shoe stores line the way. I couldn’t help myself. I sent hubby on ahead while I tried on at least a half-dozen dresses in six different stores. Each item was uniquely designed, in brilliant colors, cut and sewn of fine fabrics ranging from soft cottons to yards of silky opulence texture. In the end I just couldn’t decide.

     I met Mike in a lovely outdoor restaurant that faced the beach, and we feasted on a lunch of shrimp, crab, and only a little wine. We still had a long way to go. It was, by the way, a long hike back up the hill past the tempting shops to our scooter.

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