Apr 22

Apr 22 Una bella giornata

Advice Amalfi Coast, Amalfi Coast, Amalfi Coast Travel Italy, Authentic Amalfi Coast, Holiday Amalfi Coast, local life Amalfi

Favourite beaches — Castiglione

A place to unwind and relax

Castiglione, an isolated gem just around the corner from the town Atrani. This beach is a beauty although it is quite a difficult task getting there, as there is no shortage of stairs. (85 to be exact, or did I lose count while trying to catch my breath!) Castiglione is actually considered to be Ravello’s beach. This always makes me scratch my head as I wonder how could this be? Only a couple of metres from Atrani, how can it be classified as Ravello’s beach? Ravello, for those who don’t know, is high in the hilltops. The town is nowhere near this beach.

Alas it is written on the sign and if it’s written on the sign that makes it official!

This is probably one of my favourite spots to relax and unwind. To me, it’s the closest semblance to an Australian beach (big call!!). Yes there is no white sand but it’s because it is a lot quieter than the other beaches here. First off, one would take one look at the stairs and think “Hell no!” so the beach is somewhat deserted (sometimes depending on what season). It is also a beach unknown to the tourist eye which makes it less crowded. Mainly locals inhabit here for the day. They co to this beach with their families, paninos packed, inflatables and sun tan lotion in hand, they then settle themselves on the rocky bed. Lying like lizards on a rock, they soak up the sun’s UV rays until the sun disappears behind the mountains.

Summer is creeping up behind us and the workmen remind us of this as they rebuild the beach shacks and bars. The shacks stay here all summer until early October when they are stripped before the big seas of winter.

I’ve noticed Italians don’t really plunge into the water as we do. I mean the ones I had observed today clearly take their time and go piano piano. First it’s the toes, they stay for a couple of minutes, then the calves, then they wait etc etc It takes them at least 30 minutes for them to be completely submerged. Some use it more of a social activity than others. (I go in, you go in etc)

I take my first steps. Gosh it’s chilly! Within only a couple of seconds I cannot feel my toes. Although the water is calming and is great for circulation. Then … PLUNGE! No sooner had I dived in, a beach ball was cast over my head. A little boy in black swimmers points hysterically and cries:

“Mama! Mama!”

The mother, coated in sun tan lotion and looking like something off the page of a Dolce Gabbana advertisement, tilts her sun glasses.

“Fabi! Non ti preoccupare. Compero un altra palla. Ok tesoro?” {Don’t worry, I will buy you another ball. Ok darling?}

At this point the boy is in a panic. He sees me, the Australiana, bopping up and down in rhythm with the waves. He points at me.

“Singora! Singora!”

“Si, certo faccio subito!” {Yes, certainly, I will be quick!} I reply. I turn around and the ball has drifted further out than before so I start with a nice crisp stroke. (I would have made the Australian Olympic swimming team very proud)

After retrieving the ball, I nudge it along as I swim to shore. I notice the boy is curious about something. He is hovering around his uncle (I know this because he called him Zio Domenico)

It looks like Zio Domenico has skewered a Medussa.

Rabbi and his sister playing with the beach ball

“C’e tanti Medusse oggi! Non vai nuotare Fabbi” {There are lot of Jellyfish out today. Don’t go swimming}

Great. I mumble to myself. Although I come from a land of sharks and all other dangerous creatures, I still don’t like the risk of being stung by a jellyfish. (Call me a pussycat if you will :) I couldn’t see any Medusse. Maybe I was blind. Maybe Zio Domenico had skewered a condom? As disgusting as this sounds, this beach is renowned for a night of romantic love affairs. (Although now not so much as the Commune have put up big spot lights on the beach so there are no hidey holes anywhere…. or are there?!)

I passed the ball to Fabbi and waited awkwardly in exchange for a grazie but that never happened. Was this all in vain? I trudged back through the rocks and tiles of Castiglione beach and collapsed on my towel. The only thing I wanted now was to eat the strawberries I had bought from Enzo the fruit man. Friday morning is always fruit truck day.

Guess what? Fabbi managed to throw the ball in once again. He looked at me. I raised an eyebrow and rolled onto my belly carefree.

Maybe that child should give up soccer?