When life gives you lemons, go to the Amalfi Coast and make limoncello.

Jan 2026

Praiano is a symphony of colours and it is from the encounter between sea, sky and earth that its harmony is born ~ Anonymous ~

We caught a train from Rome to Naples, where we hired a car to drive to our Airbnb in Praiano on the Amalfi Coast. My dad had booked a large Kombi - covered in scratches and dents from previous fender benders... which should have been our first warning. After navigating our way out of the city (on the wrong side of the road) and enduring a chorus of conflicting directions from everyone in the car - which led to a missed turn and some backtracking - we finally arrived at the ruins of Pompeii.

We stopped for a quick lunch at a restaurant across the street, devouring as much pizza and beer as we could before rushing off. Nicole and I ducked into the loo before leaving, only to return and find Michael polishing off everyone’s leftovers and finishing the last of the beer. The waiters and nearby diners watched in amused disbelief, slow clapping him out of the restaurant.

Our guide was a young archaeologist with a genuine passion for the subject - easily the best guide we’d had so far. The site was relatively quiet, allowing us to explore without battling crowds. I quickly realized how naive my understanding of Pompeii had been; everything I thought I knew came from movies and was wildly inaccurate. With beautiful weather and fascinating insights, it was an incredible experience for all of us - except Michael, who was now regretting his earlier enthusiasm for beer and urgently searching for the nearest restroom.

We didn’t linger after the tour, knowing we still had a drive ahead of us. The journey to the Amalfi Coast was breathtaking - winding through picturesque coastal towns as the setting sun bathed everything in a golden, almost otherworldly glow. For Dad, however, it was less magical and more nerve-wracking. The narrow roads, sharp turns, and encroaching darkness with oncoming traffic quickly explained all the scratches on our rental.

After some difficulty finding our villa, we met our host and managed to park the car along a narrow roadside. Dad declared it would stay there for the duration of our stay - no one was eager to attempt that again. It was a relief to finally have a house with a kitchen after a week and a half of hotel rooms. We found a small convenience store for essentials (though meat was notably absent), and I promptly dropped a six-pack of eggs, splattering them across the shop floor. Communicating with the shopkeeper - who spoke as little English as we did Italian - turned into a full charades performance. That night, Nicole took charge in the kitchen while the rest of us played pool and listened to some good ol' country music.

The sunrise from our villa was spectacular. Golden rays lit up the sea and sky, as if heaven hovered on the horizon. It was a pleasure to sip coffee, breathe in the morning air, and watch the waves crash below as the world slowly woke.

One morning, I went for my first run since Venice, feeling the need to move after days of indulgence. Running through Praiano’s quiet, winding streets - nearly deserted in winter - wearing a luminous green poncho, I had one of those surreal moments of gratitude. So few people get the chance to experience places like this. The ocean was grey under the overcast sky but powerful and mesmerizing as waves crashed against the cliffs. I eventually reached a small lighthouse and then a pebble beach - no sand, just smooth stones, which I loved. A few local fishermen stood nearby, and I made a mental note to return for a swim.

Later that day, my mom, Michael, and I tackled the seemingly endless staircase down to the beach for a cold-water dip. Locals watched us with wide eyes, but eventually, a few others joined in. It turned into an unforgettable swim, with Mike and I repeatedly eyeing the surrounding cliffs, tempted to climb them - something we probably would have attempted if Mom hadn’t been there to keep us grounded.

The next day, despite the rain, we decided to rent Vespas to explore the coast (anything to avoid driving the Kombi again). They only had three available but promised a fourth by morning. Dad, Michael, and I took the driver roles, with Nicole riding behind me and Mom with Dad. I had the least experience on two wheels and quickly realized turning would be a challenge - especially with Nicole, who I enthusiastically reminded to lean to which she insisted she was doing her best! We cruised through tunnels, cliffside roads, and tiny towns with no real destination - just soaking it all in.

We had breakfast in Amalfi and squeezed in some shopping before the shops closed for siesta - which, as we learned, could last anywhere from two hours to… whenever they felt like reopening. We waited it out at a small café before picking up supplies from a butcher. That evening, we returned home with freezing hands and full hearts - though the much-anticipated steak turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.

The following morning brought our first glimpse of sunshine - still freezing, but at least bright. Nicole and I led the way on the Vespas, climbing higher into the mountains along winding roads filled with sharp turns. Each one was met with a nervous Oooohhh, followed by brief confidence - That was a good one! - before the next turn humbled us again.

The cold became relentless. My gloved hands were stinging, while Dad - barehanded - insisted he was perfectly fine in classic “MAN TOUGH, NO FEEL COLD” fashion. We must have looked ridiculous in our brightly colored ponchos from Rome, flapping in the wind as we climbed the mountain roads. After about an hour of driving, we pulled into a parking lot, only to realize we could still see the villa - you can’t rush travel here.

On our way back, the rain returned, and we arrived soaked but determined to make the most of the evening. Mike and I stopped at our little beach for a quick swim before heading back. We parked the Vespas near our villa, hoping it was allowed.

It wasn’t.

The next morning, I passed a police officer issuing fines to each Vespa. I tried to walk by unnoticed, but Dad insisted I go back and speak to her when I called to inform him. Not my strong suit. Still, I awkwardly turned around and played the confused tourist (not entirely an act). She firmly explained that we weren’t authorized to park there and directed us to pay the fines at the local station. Fair enough.

After refuelling the Vespas at a nearby petrol station, we got caught in a downpour on the way back, arriving completely drenched just in time to return them.

We made the hair-raising drive back to Naples and said goodbye to Italy.

Next stop: Seychelles.