After visiting the Amalfi Coast in 1953, John Steinbeck wrote: ‘Nearly always when you find a place as beautiful as Positano… your impulse is to conceal it.’
The American writer felt confident enough to share his discovery, writing in Harper’s Bazaar that the town’s remote and somewhat inhospitable location would dissuade the average traveller.
That was more than 70 years ago and he could not have been more wrong.
The Amalfi Coast in summer rivals that of Santorini for ‘over-tourism’ – but that’s no excuse for avoiding it all together.
Go now when the crowds don’t clog the streets and the sun still casts temperatures in the mid-twenties.
Make a date: Harriet Sime discovers the delights of the Amalfi Coast in the off-season
‘Go now when the crowds don’t clog the streets and the sun still casts temperatures in the mid-twenties,’ says Harriet. Above is the bridge over the Furore Fjord on the Amalfi Coast
I’m here with my husband, Dan. Our base is Santa Caterina, a venerable hotel steeped in Italian glamour, a ten-minute walk from Amalfi’s town centre.
We arrive in complete darkness and wake to the sun sitting high in a cloudless sky and a light breeze whispering through the hotel’s terraces, decked out with glossy tiles, white furniture and lemon trees.
The hotel is busy with tourists, mainly Americans, who have the same idea as us; to see a more authentic side to the world’s most famous coastline.
To witness local men with leathery skin gesticulate on benches while enjoying their first espresso of the day; to observe smartly-dressed children making their way to school and nonnas passing on the latest gossip to passers-by while hanging out their washing.
Prices are far cheaper at this time of year, too. At Santa Caterina, for example, rooms in October are more than half what they are in summer.
On our first morning, we skip the hotel’s glass-front lift which whisks guests to its beach club a couple of hundred metres down the cliff, and decide to walk instead. ‘Pathway to the sea’ signs guide us through descending terraces which tumble down the rocky path to the water.
Harriet checks into Santa Caterina hotel, a ten-minute walk from Amalfi’s town centre. Above is one of the hotel’s bedrooms
Harriet says Santa Caterina, seen here, is ‘steeped in Italian glamour’
Later, we arrive in good time for Amalfi town’s ‘passeggiata’ when the place bursts into life. Colourful Fiat 500s and beeping scooters squeeze through the streets.
Outside a greengrocer’s there’s a sign that reads: ‘Don’t touch the fruit. If everybody touch we are going to make jam.’ After an hour or so, we nab a table in the shade of the perfectly formed 9th Century cathedral for Aperol Spritz and olives before heading off in search of pizza.
A series of steep steps off the town’s main artery lead us to Donna Stella, a courtyard restaurant run by two lookalike sisters serving pizzas for £7 a pop.
‘I’m the pretty one,’ Lorenza says, as she places two huge margheritas on our table. She explains how the restaurant, which opened in 2006, now closes for a short time between December 20 and March 1.
In the past, the quickest way to get to Amalfi was from Naples Airport, a 90 minute drive away – but that all changed this summer, with a new EasyJet route from Gatwick to Salerno-Amalfi airport, a mere 30 minutes from our hotel.
Our final day is spent in Positano, a 25-minute, outlandishly twisty drive west, where we settle for lunch at Villa Treville, overlooking the town’s black sand beach.
Harriet takes a day trip Positano (seen above) where she enjoys lunch overlooking the town’s black sand beach
We devour plates of stuffed artichoke, burrata, and spaghetti alla nerano, a local courgette pasta, while reminiscing about all the authentic encounters and observations experienced which makes travel all the richer.
That fleeting conversation with Lorenza, the exchanged smiles, the two minutes of football Dan played with a young local boy kicking a ball along the street.
They would never happen in July or August. I rest my case.