I know what you’re thinking, who escapes from the Amalfi Coast?? Don’t you mean escape to? Stay with me, it will all make sense. The Brown Lady in Europe series continues this week, with a nod to one of my favorite shows, 24. In my best Jack Bauer voice: The following takes place between 9am and midnight. Events occur in real time.
09:15, Florence, Italy
After a blissful five days in and around Florence, we pack up excited to catch our train and head for Positano. Of all the places we planned to visit on this three week trip, I’m fairly certain Positano on the world-renowned Amalfi Coast will be my favorite. Iconic photos of idyllic villages right on the water and breathtaking views are everything dreams of Italian vacations are made of. Ready to check out of our rental, we call the number our taxi driver gave us during our ride from the airport. Uber as we know it doesn’t exist in Italy, replaced with pricey town cars regulated by the government. No answer at the taxi company.
09:30
We drop the keys on the kitchen table and check out of our rental. It’s already warm, slightly overcast but with the promise of another hot summer day. Standing near the entrance of the restaurant next door, we call the taxi number again- still no answer. A server at the restaurant offers to call us a taxi. He returns and tells us it will be about ten minutes.
09:50
Still no taxi in sight, we walk to hotel down the street and ask the concierge outside if he will call us a taxi. He pleasantly says yes, then promptly puts hotel guests in the next three taxis that arrive. A man walking by shakes his head and says, “Waiting on a taxi, huh? Yea, there’s a shortage, it’s impossible to get one! Here try this card.” He hands TK the same card I’m already holding. Shit, we’re gonna miss our train.
09:55
TK shrugs, “I guess we have to walk.” I look down at our bags and wonder, ‘how the hell are we gonna make it with all these bags?’ I (almost) regret our shopping spree… almost. We start power walking, half jogging through the streets, dodging cars, buses and broken sections of cobblestone with two rolling bags each and backpacks. Our amazing race moment. I try to flag down an empty taxi, an old woman shouts at me, “No! We don’t do that here!” Okay lady, relax. The taxi continues without slowing.
10:10, the streets of Florence
We’re still running. At this point we realize all the people we have been seeing struggling with suitcases across broken cobblestone over the past few days… this.is.why. We are in the Biggest Loser episode where they’ve lost all the weight and then they have to carry it on their backs again through an obstacle course… our obstacles are bikes, buses, cars, wandering tourists and a ticking clock.
10:22, Firenze Santa Maria Novella Railway Station
We dart through traffic crossing the street and run through the station just as the train pulls up. We make it to our seats, winded. I’m breathing like Biggie Smalls. I sit down and a huge drop of sweat falls from my forehead onto my tray table. The man across from me looks amused. I smile back at him, slightly embarrassed but mostly relieved. Two minutes later, the train pulls away. I can hardly believe we made it! What a morning?! Little did I know, this was only the beginning.
13:40, Salerno, Italy
We pull into the train station in Salerno and I have a message from our host, Anna. Only it’s a man on my voicemail; Anna’s house manager, Marco. We exit the station looking for our driver, I text Anna and Marco calls me. The driver should be there soon. Marco told him we would arrive at 14:30 instead of 13:40… guess we’ll wait.
14:22
Our driver, Angelo, a well dressed, polite older man arrives in a town car. We set out heading north along the Amalfi Coast to Positano. Beautiful coastline, winding roads, with small charming towns popping up along the way. The road that stretches in front of us lives up to all the postcards and images the region is so well known for. Maiori, Amalfi, Praiano, one gorgeous village after the next. I’m soaking it all up and chatting with Angelo. TK is passed out, our morning run must have worn her out.
16:30, Positano
We arrive in Positano. Angelo pulls to the side of the road and begins to unload our bags. A man who I can only assume is Marco approaches. Panama hat cocked to the side, toothpick dangling from his lip, t-shirt, shorts and Nike slides. He greets us and I notice he speaks with a slight lisp. My spidey senses start tingling. Marco has the look and feel of a classic con man. We don’t have enough euros on hand to pay Angelo. When Marco said he’d arrange for our transfer, he never gave me a price. Angelo says no problem, we can give it to Marco later after we are settled. We cross the road and make the climb up several flights of stairs carved into the hill, making our way through a maze of medieval looking corridors. Marco has drafted a vagrant of sorts to carry our bags. There are no street signs or landmarks anywhere, just winding paths deceivingly dark despite the bright sunny day. We get to a stretch of doors, and Marco opens the first door in the corridor.
16:35
It’s a hot mess. Dark and old, the apartment looks like it hasn’t been occupied since the 1970’s. I fight the feeling of dread building in my stomach, I knew this dude wasn’t right!?! I attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, ‘Oh there’s been a mistake. This isn’t the unit we paid for.’ I pull up the confirmation with photos of what we actually booked. A newly remodeled three bedroom, two bathroom unit with a beautiful balcony and views of the coast. We are standing in the doorway of a dingy, musty one-bedroom in desperate need of a remodel and a good scrubbing with bleach.
Marco starts talking fast, “So sorry, there was a double booking. That unit won’t be available until tomorrow.” No.sir. Better yet, hell NAW. I remind Marco that I have 24 hours to approve the unit with Trip Advisor before they release my money to him and we will NOT agree to stay here.
I know with everything in me that if we stay in this dump, our money will be released to Marco the next day and we’ll never see him again. He gets flustered when I mention calling Trip Advisor to report it and tries to talk me out of it. ‘I’ll give you a discount; one free night if you don’t call. If you call I won’t give you the discount.’ I just give him a look. I have every intention of getting ALL our money refunded, he can keep his discount. Unbothered, I make the call. I reach a customer service representative… in India. The rep takes my statement and tells me to take pictures of unit for proof. Marco, still hopeful he can persuade us to stay, offers to show us how to get down to the shops and restaurants because “Google maps doesn’t work up here.” We ask him for the address to the unit, he says there isn’t one. We know he’s lying. He notes our growing frustration and leaves. Smart move bruh, it will go bad for you if you stay.
17:30
Alone in the tragic disaster that is to be our home for the next five days, we do a photo shoot to document the unit for Trip Advisor, including a loft apparently built for elves, five feet and under. I call customer service again and another polite Indian call center rep says the owner Anna (Marco) is not answering the phone.
17:52
Marco is back. He’s got ‘great news’. He has found us another unit. Skeptically, we walk with him down another series of identical looking corridors. We come to an open section near the exterior of the endless maze, with more sets of stairs. Marco leads us up the stairs and opens the door. We walk into what could only be described as a semi-active construction site. Two levels, the upstairs bathroom is unfinished. Walls have open, gaping holes in some areas. I brush against a wall and come away with an arm covered in white plaster. Marco looks pleased with himself, “Do you like this one?” TK, who has been quietly observing the whole time says, “It’s under construction, huh?” He hesitates, “Well… yes they are still doing some work.” TK and I are both silent, it’s clear he’s still trying to hustle us. It’s a game to survive the 24 hour grace period and get our money released.
18:05
We need to ditch Marco. I tell him we are going to find something to eat. TK and I need time to talk without him around and I’m hoping to get a call back from Trip Advisor soon. We walk downhill on the highway towards the beach. The road is narrow, cars and buses fly by. I imagine doing this in the dark and am already dreading the walk back through the maze, in search of a unit with no address.
18:20
Marco calls. He’s pressuring us to accept the second unit. I pretend that I can’t hear him and ask him to hold. TK starts recording on her phone as I ask him to repeat his offer, which is now two nights for free if we will stay in either the dingy one bedroom or the unit under construction. Oh and by the way, the unit we paid for is now unavailable for two more nights (not just one). I repeat his offer back to him and get him to acknowledge that the unit we paid for is not available, then I say we’ll call him back. TK saves the recording and we walk on.
18:45
I’m thirsty, starving and in survival mode. We make our way through countless shops and restaurants, in search of the waterfront. We select a random restaurant. The waterfront restaurant in Positano is mediocre at best. The food and service are not good, the least memorable so far on our trip. We are clearly paying for what is truly a spectacular view in a world famous location. Much like the cutest boy in school, Positano doesn’t have to try too hard. No matter, we’ve had time to plot our escape and it’s getting dark. We agree- come hell or high water, we are NOT staying here.
20:13
We begin to make our way back towards the unit, trying to retrace our steps from less than two hours ago. My usually solid sense of direction is hidden under layers of exhaustion, anxiety and frustration. We don’t have an address and I refuse to call Marco. We’ve had enough of him for one day.
21:00
We are lost. We have found our way back to what look like the stairs we climbed just hours ago when Angelo dropped us off but there are no street signs and no landmarks in sight. With only a dim light on the highway as a guide, we are left to find our way through a maze of eerily quiet, narrow alleys that all look the same. What had been a long walk downhill, is now a brutal climb back up- a solid 10 incline on a treadmill. Sweating profusely for the second time today, I’m just praying we find our way before my legs give up. We round another seemingly identical corner and I opt to walk down the corridor in the middle. I am ready to give up. I look up and somehow I’m standing in front of the unit.
21:43
I’m happy all of our belongings haven’t been stolen while we were at dinner. TK and I sit at the tiny kitchen table, both silently scrolling through our phones looking for another place to stay. Ants crawl across the small table headed for the sad bowl of wilted fruit meant to be our welcome basket. I’ve called Trip Advisor again, they are not helpful. They can’t get the owner on the phone. They say they’ll call me back. We are on our own. Anywhere within a reasonable distance is booked to capacity, or $1,000/night. I find an alternative- in Naples… an hour and a half away. I don’t know anything about Naples really, I didn’t do any research about it at all. Not ideal, but we can still do day trips from the ferry dock there and again- we are NOT staying here. TK takes a look at the hotel I’ve found and agrees, anywhere is better than here.
22:00
Angelo gave me his card when he dropped us off. I call him and thankfully he answers. I ask if he can take us to Naples. “Sure…wait, now??”, he asks. “Yes,” I say, “Right.now.” He agrees and says he’s on his way. I book the hotel on my phone. The confirmation comes through, we grab our bags, drop the keys on the kitchen table and head back out into the dark. Loaded up like pack mules, we are moving as quietly as possible, whispering even. I’m half expecting Marco to pop up out of the shadows to try and convince us to stay.
22:22
A black Mercedes comes around the bend and stops 20 feet ahead. TK and I share a sigh of relief. Thank God, he’s here! We’re going to make it out! The driver’s door opens and a 20-something year old guy in basketball shorts and an orange Polo shirt with the collar popped hops out. Who’s this? “Ladies, ladies!” arms outstretched, the young man approaches with a big grin. Angelo has sent his nephew, Giovanni. Let the young man make the 3 hour trip from Positano to Naples and back, was Angelo’s thinking, I’m sure.
22:24
Giovanni is chatting away, I am calling the hotel in Naples. The front desk closes at midnight and we are easily an hour and a half away. If we are lucky, we will make it with just minutes to spare. With my phone to one ear, confirming our reservation, I hear Giovanni, misquote the fare Angelo gave me and request the money in advance. He is refusing to take us unless we pay right now. At this moment, I see all the frustration of the last fourteen hours well up in my good friend. That good 504 New Orleans spirit is right at the surface, simmering and threatening to boil over. TK is going to end Giovanni. I can see it. I grab hold of her by the wrist with my free hand and hold on tight. Leaning away from them both, I’m still on the phone attempting to confirm we have a room to go to and essentially begging the man not to leave the front desk before we arrive.
22:27
Giovanni and TK are arguing on the side of a curvy road in the dark. We have what seems to be another hustler on our hands. It looks like we may be deserted on the side of the road, with nowhere to go but back to the musty room with the ant problem. Out of nowhere, a couple comes walking down the hill out of the shadows. The man pauses as they walk by and asks quietly but with authority, “Ladies, is everything okay?” TK and I both look at Giovanni expectantly, as if to say, “Is everything okay?” I have no idea who this man is but Giovanni’s demeanor and tone change immediately. “Everything is fine; I will take you. Pay me when we get there. It’s no problem!” He begins loading our luggage into the car. TK and I exchange a quizzical look. Our guardian angel and his companion disappear into the night just as quickly as they appeared.
22:30
We’re on our way to Naples. His outburst already a distant memory, Giovanni is jovial and flirtatious. He slams Marco for his stupidity, trying to do a bait and switch with the rental, ‘that guy isn’t from Positano’. He calls a friend at a bar, laughing and switching back and forth between English and Italian. I catch ‘morena’ and ‘bella’ peppered through his descriptions of us. I text Marco, “We’re gone. The keys are in the unit.” For the first time all day, he doesn’t respond.
22:35
Giovanni continues to chatter away, checking Facebook on his cell and grinning at us in the rearview mirror as he rounds sharp curves along the coastline. I pray we don’t fly off a cliff. We get to the highway and he floors it. Sitting behind him, I can’t see how fast we’re going. I can see TK’s eyes get big and the other cars on the road, seemingly standing still as we fly by. I close my eyes, too tired to worry about our Italian race car driver. All I can think is, ‘Jesus keep us safe- cause we need him to drive this fast to make it in time’.
23:33, somewhere in Naples
We exit the freeway and Giovanni promptly locks the doors, takes off his watch and puts it in the glove box. Awh hell, we’re in the hood. Dear God, what have I gotten us into now? After about a mile or so, he relaxes and starts chatting again. He knows the hotel where we’re going. It’s nice, in a central area. I’ve got my eye on the time and now I’m just hoping we don’t pull up to skid row.
23:52, Grand Hotel Oriente
Pulling up at Grand Hotel Oriente, I look through the window of the hotel and see someone still at the front desk. Hallelujah! I’m so relieved I could cry. We settle up with Giovanni for both the ride to Positano with his uncle and our action packed ride to Naples and say our goodbyes.
23:54
I (barely) resist the urge to hug the man at the front desk as he checks us in. His pleasant and calm greeting is a stark and welcome contrast to the chaos of the last fifteen hours. Keys in hand, bright if not weary smiles on our faces, we say good night and head for our room.
23:58
With two minutes left in the day, we walk into the clean, spacious room, look at each other and dissolve into laughter. After nearly two weeks of near perfect travel through various parts of Europe, this day has pushed us to the limit and yet somehow it all worked out. After a long, hot shower I fall out into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Epilogue
Trip Advisor did in fact call me back… eleven days after the epic fail detailed above. Of course Marco lied and said we cancelled without notice. My screenshots of text messages, TK’s audio recording and our photos in the unit said different. Our money was refunded in full. And with hotels in Naples being about half the cost of those on the Amalfi Coast, we actually came away with money!
To this day, I have no idea if Anna was a real person, if the unit we saw online even exists or if Marco was catfishing us the whole time. No matter, it was a wild ride either way. Anytime I see a photo of that iconic Italian coastline, flashes of TK and I wandering through a maze of corridors, arguing with Marco and escaping Positano like thieves in the night come rushing back… and I laugh…hard. This one goes down in the books, for sure.
I know this was a long post, but I had to give you the full story! Next week, the Brown Lady in Europe series continues as we venture out and explore the city that saved us from the madness- grazie Naples!