The road from Sorrento to Amalfi hugs the cliff as it curves around vertical rock faces with the tail of the bus swinging out over the edge and bringing visions of the Afterlife to those passengers sitting on the right hand side. Be thankful that this observation is from a large air-conditioned, soft-sprung, reclining seat in the front of a Mercedes coach and not from the small hire car that is between this coach and another in front.

Coach drivers consider it a matter of pride to be as close as possible to everything including the cliff edge. Every corner is blasted peremptorily by the wind-horn and coaches give way to nothing. It is small consolation that the casual manner of the driver comes from driving this coastline several times a day and that he sleeps soundly in his bed at night.

The final plunge into Amalfi some ninety minutes later leaves the traveller in a melee of coaches parking, baffled tourists and drivers arguing.

South of Sorrento

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Avoid eating anywhere as everything is at least double the normal price. Here the ultimate insult to Italian cuisine has been devised. Sit quietly in a shaded cave on the Via Genato while the waiter recommends the house Canelonni. Visions of a moustachioued chef come to mind as his staff lovingly create the day’s menu, his own hands adding the Bechamel Sauce and the carefully arranged garnish of a Basil leaf.
A few moments later the waiter presents the meal with a flourish. Two small cardboard cartons with three watery rolls of pasta and goo, the middle of which is icy cold, and the rim bubbling. The worst insult is yet to come for this offence to the taste buds – the bill. Embarrassment forbids to reveal the actual amount; suffice to say it was four times more than the busfare.

Don't bother

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