The danger signs already loomed as we saw what looked like a mile long bus queue snaking along the path. The sun was beating down without mercy on the poor unfortunate souls waiting patiently for the local bus from Sorrento to Amalfi.
We should have taken the tour bus or better still the ferry boat but no not us we decided to do as the locals do. Stupidly forgetting that the locals had not drunk their body weight in wine the night before, were acclimatised to this torturous heat, and stood their ground on these helter skelter bus rides.
On enquiring we learnt there had been an accident along the Amalfi coastline and that’s why there was such a delay in buses arriving. After doing the journey I’d imagine this is a fairly common occurrence.
Buses started to trickle in. We watched in horror as people were squashed into these vehicles as if trying to compete in the Guinness Book of Records to see how many people it’s possible to jam into one bus. Ours would have broken every record!
Yes! For some crazy reason we insisted on continuing with this trip despite the fact we were on our last drop of water, I was starting to swell like the Michelin man, and last night’s excess of wine was making itself known.
We were bullied towards the back of our bus noting that the locals seemed to have managed to grab every available seat. People kept piling in and when it seemed as if there wasn’t even room left for a flea they would pile another body on board.
The journey commenced. The Amalfi Coast road should be a journey of vibrant scenery, dramatic coastline and glistening seascapes. To us it became a journey of the worst roller coast ride imaginable. Forget about the scenery we were too busy trying to hold our breakfasts down.
The journey commenced and we hung onto the overhead rail like sweaty oran-utangs. The only plus here being that I’d shaved under my arms the night before.
We were surrounded by a crowd of giddy students who seemed to be oblivious to our discomfort and we wondered were we ever that age where we could have withstood this.
The bus rolled like a boat on mischievous choppy seas, and that’s when I noticed the husband turn a strange colour. “Oh no!” I just remembered “He suffers from motion sickness.” We could not get off this mobile sauna because we were so far at the back, we could not breathe because there was no air-conditioning, we could not drink because we had no water, we could only pray that this journey would soon be over.
Then the husband stared to gag! All I had was a lovely buttery soft new green leather handbag I’d invested in the previous day. The colour probably didn’t help as he emptied his breakfast and some other strange unaccounted for offerings, into my expensive designer sick bag. We were beginning to get strange looks. The very scenery even seemed to mock us.
Off that bus we had to get. We cajoled our way to the front, as I held onto my bag of now leaking vomit, people seemed to be a bit more accommodating. The bus stopped, at least we would die on ‘terra firma’. We were at the last stop of what seemed like an interminable journey. The town of Amalfi.
I binned my buttery green bag with it's dodgy contents and nearly the husband with it. We eventually, after drinking copious amounts of water, and breathing in the clear air, came around somewhat and had a rather pleasant time exploring the very pretty but terribly touristy town of Amalfi.
We were getting the ferry back to Sorrento! No we weren’t we had missed the last one.
However, I live to tell the tale and I didn’t bin the husband either! Still waiting for that replacement bag though!
B Kearney
