Tag Archives: Photos

Positano.

Teal door. Brown eyes. Handlebar mustache.

 

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Sigh. Yes. Another kissy face photo. Why?

Because I’m leaving for Cambodia on Friday, and I won’t see him for nearly three weeks.

Because it’s one of my favorite pictures from our trip, and I forgot to include it in my photo round-up of Ravello.

Because my eyeliner looks really, really good (and let’s face it – it hardly ever does).

 

And because looking at it just makes me crazy happy.

The evening after you get back from Ravello, and your cab driver has just ripped you off to the tune of 20 euros, you will not feel much like spending more money on a lavish dinner. Besides, your lunch was lovely and late, and you aren’t particularly hungry.

On that evening, is it perfectly acceptable to pick up a sandwich in town that is roughly the size of a longshoreman’s forearm and take it back to your hotel room. It will have prosciutto and fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, and bread so crusty it will wreak havoc on the roof of your mouth, but you won’t care.

 

Because this will be your table.

 

And this will be your view.

 

And you will sit there and listen to the sea and smell the citrus from the groves below and realize that there is no better place to have dinner on that night, and maybe any other.

I may have given you the impression that the only thing to see in Ravello is the Villa Rufolo. And that’s not entirely right. Sure, the Villa is the full-sized Reese’s peanut butter cup in your Halloween bag: hands down the best thing in there. But if you look around a little, you’ll find a couple of Kit-Kats, and maybe a mini Twix (also, as this metaphor illustrates, I have a hankering for some candy. I blame Rand, who brought me a “fun-size” Almond Joy this afternoon, which I consumed in nearly one bite. I now have the overwhelming desire to eat several dozen more).

My point is (rummages through purse, finds an almost-full box of Tic Tacs. Proceeds to pour them straight into her mouth) the entire little village is lovely. Here are a few more scenes from the afternoon we spent there.

 

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“I have to run to the bathroom. Here, hold my camera.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, why are you smiling?”

“Huh? No reason.”

 

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In Italian, because when in Rome Amalfi …

La fontana:

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At nighttime, the village glowed yellow as the light bounced off the stone walls and roads.

 

It felt like the set of a movie.

And I kept chasing the leading man through the shadows.

Sometimes I think I have the maturity level of an 11-year-old.

Other times, I am absolutely convinced of it.

We’ll be walking around someplace beautiful, and instead of taking in the amazing architecture or historical significance of the place, I’ll be doubled over, laughing hysterically because there are two stray cats getting it on in the distance.

And then I’ll take, like, two photos of the UNESCO site that we’ve trekked to, and like, THREE DOZEN of the mating cats.

I also took a photo of this pregnant cat, in case I needed a cautionary tale for any horny adolescent felines that I came across.

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