When Life Gives You Lemons
Take a little walk and make lemon granita!
Dear Reader, here’s something different today. A travelogue. On life and lemons. Why not? You’ll want to stay for the end ….
A chilly January morning, I stood alone in the tiny town square of Nocelle, a village tucked into the Lattari Mountain cliffs above Positano. The square, anchored by a pale pink chapel, was empty except for a cat cleaning herself while looking down at the sea far below. I was lost in the chilly quiet, remembering sunny days here.
Twice before, friends and I had hiked the Path of the Gods along Italy’s Amalfi Coast. The driver dropped us off at a tiny bar in Agerola. What we call a café, Italians call bar. At the bar, one may order a caffé. That is, an espresso. Or if you ask me, nectar of the gods. One glorious shot in a tiny cup. Drink it quickly. Now off you go.
From the bar, we found the Path—Il Sentiero degli Dei—and hiked a gradual downhill for about three hours. Downhill does not mean without challenges, to be clear! On those sunny June days, we scrambled up and down and over rocks and along the winding path that overlooks the Tyrrhenian Sea. The view from the cliffs is nothing short of spectacular.
From Agerola the Path winds around to Nocelle then down to Positano. The journey is gentle in places and in others it is not for the feint of heart. Kind of like life, yes? The first time, a dear friend hiked with us while … pregnant! I will forever cherish my time with her during the journey down the 1,792 steps (give or take) from Nocelle to Positano. Ancient and uneven, those winding steps leave quads burning and set calves on fire. And that’s only half-way down.
At the bottom of those steps, I met this Casanova! “Ah, Lady! Come and see the view from my garden ….”
But I’m getting ahead of myself. As usual. In June, Nocelle’s square welcomes hikers. There are smiles of accomplishment. Relief for some. For others, simple Joy. Moments shared between friends and among strangers. Fellow sojourners.
The highlight, though, is the tiny lemon ice stand at the base of the stairs leading to the square. There is nothing like lemon granita after three hours hiking in the Italian summer sun! Both times, I remember a dark-haired woman serving hikers at the stand. Her stern demeanor made her look older than her years. Ah well, the fresh-squeezed lemon ice was divine! In January, though, the sky was gray and the square was silent.
I was staying in Positano, a place that calls me back again and again. The locals couldn’t understand why I would visit in January. “Positano è chiuso!” Positano is closed. In the summer, it is a bustling resort town; in the winter, only an occasional shop is open, one bar, and at best three restaurants. All around, the grinding drilling scraping hammering sounds of construction echo. Repairs. Preparations for the coming season.
Upon my arrival that first late-afternoon in January, I set out to get re-acquainted with Positano. Standing at the base of the stairs to the Church of Santa Maria Assunta with its iconic tiled dome, I met Franco. He owns a shoe store in the center of town. Franco had just closed for the day and was walking briskly toward his scooter when my red jacket made him stop. In our brief exchange, he became my self-appointed guide for the week. Have you seen ….? Have you been ….” “Take the bus from ….” His messages landed in my What’s App and made me smile. He never steered me wrong.
So when Franco suggested I “take a little walk” from Nocelle to Praiano, I didn’t question. I summoned a cab to take me up the mountain. Walk up the 1,792 steps from Positano to Nocelle? Not today. I’m just going to take a little walk. This I how I found myself in the empty Nocelle square, chatting with a very lucky cat indeed.
And then. Into the square strides a tall, hearty man wearing a rough sweater and carrying a bag of groceries. He’s 10 years … well, maybe 15 years younger than I. Each of us is surprised to see the other in this empty square. Ciao! Ciao!
“Why is la donna americana here?” (or something like that), he asks. “I am going for a little walk,” I laugh, looking up at him. “But first, I am remembering last June, happy times with friends. Thinking about a lemon ice stand that was right here.”
“That is my lemon ice stand!” Antonino introduces himself. “No way! You must stay so busy in the summer?” Yes, he smiles, “I have a good business.” This, I think, must be an understatement. After all, this is one of the world’s most celebrated hikes. And in the summer heat, he offers the only refreshments for miles (kilometers, I should say).
I note with regret that I only recall meeting a young woman at the stand, never him. A pained look flashes across his face. She was once his girlfriend. But she’d recently moved to a neighboring town, taking the donkey and the dogs, leaving only two of their many cats behind.
And in a moment, that easy smile returns to his face. He gestures to his groceries then up the hill. “Ah well, I have friends. Come! We are going to make lunch.” No no, I say. I am going on a little walk. “Well, we will meet again, yes?” Perhaps, yes. We exchange numbers and part ways. Ciao! Ciao!
A couple of nights later, Antonino and I met at a lively local gathering spot above Positano. “Friends only,” I smiled, my eyebrow raised. One has to be very clear with Italian men, I find. See Casanova, above, lest there be any doubt on this point! He rolled his eyes and grinned. And he proved to be a gentleman—a pure and earnest Soul, really. We talked for hours. Of life. Lost loves. And lemons.
Ah, but back to Nocelle! Off I went for my little walk. It was a glorious day. Soon, I came upon the stone prayer garden, in a wooded cove beside the path, stretching up the mountain as sunlight and breeze gently filtered through the dense trees. Like thousands of travelers before, I gathered stones. I knelt in prayer as I stacked them in this sacred place.
After an hour, I began to wonder when my little walk might end. I had only seen two people, trekking in the opposite direction toward Nocelle. They were the first and last human souls I would see. As the sun peaked in the sky, I shoved my sweater into my backpack and tied my red jacket around my waist. I marveled at the view but wondered, what would I do if I fell? Twisted an ankle? Or worse. These cliffs are steep, with no guardrail and no cell service.
Then I lost myself in thought. Until I had no thoughts left. Surrounded by nature and sunlight, I surrendered to the beauty all around me. I took photo after photo of the jagged Amalfi coastline some 600 meters (over 2,000 feet) below. No photo can capture this experience. But I surely tried.
And on I walked. Suddenly, I was surrounded! Goats. Goats everywhere! Oh, and the baby goats! The bells around their necks clanged, disrupting the silence. I stopped in delight, standing still as they moved around and past me. I was happy for some company. But they didn’t give me a second thought. A late lunch was all they had in mind as they climbed over the rocks, stretching up to reach the fresh grass.
I sighed happily and kept going. Up. Up. Up. I came to a crossroad. To the left and up, I could reach Agerola, which I knew was not far from this point. No, Franco suggested Praiano. By now, I was nearly two hours in and a bit salty. I refilled my water bottle from the tiny spigot.
Refreshed and re-committed, I took the path down and to the right. A steep descent past terraced farms, I followed the old mule track. About 45 minutes later, I reached the staircase leading into Praiano.
As the afternoon sun began to fade, I pulled my sweater and jacket around me once again. I wandered the streets getting to know this small town, past a soccer game, and finally into the Piazza San Luca. I left my prayers at the altar of the pale yellow Church of San Luca Evangelista, feeling the energy from over 400 years of prayers left by others in this very spot.
An hour after descending the stairs into town, I collapsed into a chair on the patio of a small bistro, now eye level with the Sea. I ordered a large bottle of still water and a chilled glass of wine. Spent and happy with sun-kissed cheeks my only souvenir, I thought about my little walk. A magnificent four-hour trek. A journey inward. I felt true Peace.
Right on time, dear Franco sent a message. “Did you arrive Praiano? All ok?” How lovely, to be remembered. How kind. How charming. A voice message followed. “I am happy you enjoyed. And now you will take bus at 5:00 … allora, maybe it is 5:30. You will come back to Positano.”
Always. Always I will come back to Positano.
Postscript. Some months later I received this photo from Antonino, titled simply “My new friend.”
“Tell me more?” I replied. Right away, Antonino typed:
I find he is home less
I waiting for pretty woman
I find old dog 😂
Life is a surprice
Now, aren’t you glad you read all the way to the end? Haha!
Yes, indeed. Life is a surprice! If it turns sour, make lemon granita. And stay open to friendships discovered in the most unexpected places. XO, Ash