An Artist's Adventure in Italy (part 2)

The artists arrive!

At the Naples airport, my group was picked up by the most amazing tour guide.  I'm embarrassed to say I discovered him by accident. I thought I'd hired a taxi company. (I'm sorry Peppe!!!) But instead I had hired a driver guide with an extensive knowledge of the area; its local history and legend, and hidden gems of restaurants that we would have never found on our own. Plus he spoke excellent English with a charming Italian accent! Another serendipitous occurrence to add to my list (anyone else keeping track?).

The group got their first taste of the scenery at an overlook with a view of Naples and Mt Vesuvius in the distance. The mountain switchbacks with spectacular views on the way to the Valico di Chiunzi  were a foreshadowing of the vistas we would experience when we reached the famous Amalfi drive.

Our drivers were excellent experts who wove through the traffic avoiding scooters that buzzed into any available opening in the traffic. They kept tight to the edge of the narrow roads that were really just expanded goat paths. We marveled at the way they could maneuver vans past massive tour buses, at times so close that it set off the vicinity alarms. It looked as if you could barely fit two sheets of paper between the vehicles. If you ever get to the Amalfi coast and need a guide there is no one better than Giuseppe Castiglione at Amalfi Coast Driving Dreams

.

Lorenzo and Peppe 

After settling in, we walk through the little town that will be home base for the next 10 days. There was no way to blend in -- we were the only tourists there.

Sharon, one of the painters, suggested that I express to the locals how beautiful we thought their town was. So, using the Italian I had learned as a child, I spoke to an old woman sitting with a small group of people on the side of the street. As I spoke with her, she asked me about where my family had come from and when I told her, she said I looked like my mother. She had known her as a young girl. Coralina, they had called her. What were the chances that the person I was guided to speak to had known my mother? The encounter brought tears to my eyes…

The weather was picture perfect. Hot and dry but relieved by a cool breeze once you hit a shady spot or downed a lemon granita. The evenings were breezy and an open window brought in the cool fresh mountain air. Perfect sleeping weather. And the painters needed their rest because the next day we would paint in the vineyard.