Surely I have died and gone to heaven. Desperately clinging to a sunny south-facing seaside hill, small stone houses with beautiful timber doors lacquered to within an inch of their lives, invite the persistent traveller with a hearty “prego”. I say persistent because only the hardier explorer is likely to visit this place. Via San Tommaso 5 was one such stone house that we had the pleasure of staying in for a week. It was more than half way up a street which scales this hillside some 150 metres higher than the beach. I use the word “street” loosely because it is only the privilege of pedestrians to tread these paths. A maze of stone walled walkways weave their way across the landscape providing access to homes for the thousand or so residents of Praiano.
So different from its sibling towns of Positano, Amalfi and Ravello, it is a bona fide fishing village with a fjord-like pebble beach. Brightly painted fishing boats rest on wooden skids while being propped up with cleverly designed timber stays and folded mounds of fishing nets with floats are drying after being emptied of the morning’s catch. It’s definitely postcard stuff but interestingly, there are no postcards. It’s almost as if there is a secret that the locals are trying to keep.
It’s hard to be secretive about things so loved. Wherever there is a beautiful object or beautiful place, there is a paradox. How can we love something so much and yet deprive others of loving it too? Fortunately, in this case there is a naturally occurring “depriver” in play here. Aching calves and acute breathlessness from endless stair stepping are the dues paid by the die-hard lovers of this place. They pay gladly, knowing that these muscular penalties are their contribution towards the important work of preventing the avalanche of packaged tourism.
In one short week, I have been privileged in meeting fisherman while they folded their nets at dusk, in waving to housewives on neighbouring rooftops while they hung out their washing and in smiling with old folk as they made their way back from the market, with bags of produce in hand.
Many thanks to our friend Nat Donkin for guiding us to this paradise of a place and to Karen and Ken who shared the experience with us.
Buonasera.
Nicholas Dixon's Blog 