Life on the Edge

On March 1st I wrote:

I sit now looking out my window and gazing at the famed Amalfi coast in Italy. It is early evening and the sun has just set behind the mountains and the Isle of Capri. It rained today so clouds are piled above the cliffs and over the Mediterranean. The clouds and sea are a study in grays: deep charcoal mountains in the foreground, paler Capri beyond, tumultuous billows of ashy gray in the sky, steel gray rippled sea brightened only by a slender streak of clear sky over Capri and the Faraglioni. My house is called Casa Faraglioni because I can see the famed Faraglioni off the corner of Capri. These are three huge rock pinnacles, distinctively rising out of the sea and capturing the imagination of people for centuries. Ancient legend says they were the masses that the Cyclops launched at Ulysses. They are in reality the first volcanic activity of Etna. And they, and other rock formation in this gorgeous Gulf of Sorrento, are my daily viewing pleasure for the next seven weeks.

Casa Faraglioni sits above the sea, 127 steps above the main road of the tiny town of Praino. The main road is hundreds of feet above the sea. People get around prmarily by climbing up and down. If you have never been to this coast you have probably seen pictures or movies of the towns here. The cliffs, or mountains, as a flatlander such as I would call them, run directly down into the sea. Centuries ago crazy people decided to live on the edge of these mountains and build homes and try to farm the vertical land. I don’t know why, I have to research that. So they had to terrace everything or it would slide into the sea, especially on a day like today when it rained all day. And because it was so steep you couldn’t walk up or down without also sliding down to the sea, they built steps in order to get to their neighbors, or their barn or the local market. Eventually villages and towns sprung up, fishing coves were utilized, and life on this part of the coast became ordinary. It in no way resembles any sort of life I have ever seen or heard of in America. And they don’t speak English. And I don’t speak Italian. Another interesting 49 days!