Unexpected Adventures on the Amalfi Coast

Once we finished the sidewalk, my wife and I had to make a choice.

We were navigating a steep, winding path along Italy’s Amalfi Coast. The road felt perilous; it curved sharply, with one side featuring a jagged rock face and the other a precarious wall that seemed ready to collapse. I wasn’t exactly calm, speeding up the Audi, overtaking tour buses, and zipping through those tight turns like I was in a Formula One race.

For the first part of our trip to the swimming spot, we used the sidewalk, and honestly, it made everything feel safer. We were able to soak in the stunning views and actually enjoy our hike.

But, just as we started to feel comfortable, the sidewalk ended abruptly. Should we turn back? Maybe call an Uber? Was it even worth the risk?

And let me tell you about Italian drivers—they can be quite ruthless. It’s as if they completely disregard pedestrian life, particularly when it comes to tourists. Road markings? Stop signs? They’re mere suggestions. Crossing busy streets during rush hour can feel like a game of chance. You have to be assertive; otherwise, you might find yourself stuck on the side of the road for what feels like ages, looking every bit like a lost tourist. Don’t even think about giving them a wave; it won’t matter.

Hopeful, we looked down the road and decided to walk ahead. Then, we spotted a group of tourists—about seven or eight Americans—bravely stepping off the sidewalk. Well, if they can do that, then maybe we can too. That was clearly a moment of overconfidence. But, for a fleeting second, it felt reassuring to think that they were just as lost as we were.

We figured we could manage the reckless Italian drivers without the safety of a sidewalk. After all, having a solid group of tourists ahead of us was a bit like having a buffer. If a car was headed our way, it would have to deal with them first. They were, sort of like our shield against any Vespa or bus that might come our way. Sidewalk or not, we felt slightly safeguarded.

It took under an hour to reach the swimming hole. With my cheap snorkeling goggles, I caught sight of some dull grey fish. We settled on a sharp rock that wasn’t exactly comfortable. But the view? It was breathtaking.

The journey back was a different story. Firstly, we were without our human shield. We steeled ourselves to face the road without the foolish courage of fellow tourists. I made a questionable move, jumping onto the wall to avoid the tight turns. I ended up peering nervously down the cliff, looking at the air and branches below. It was alarming. We quickly decided to get off that wall and stick to the road. The turns there were wider, better visibility for tourists like us.

Finally stepping back onto the sidewalk, we felt the tension ease. It was the most secure we’d felt all day. As we made our way back to town and enjoyed a drink, an overwhelming wave of gratitude washed over us—not just for the relief of being safe, but for the shared experience that left us a bit rattled but intact.