Full of Bologna: La Costiera Amalfitana

I spent last weekend in one of the most touristy locations in Italy. The Amalfi Coast home to magical towns like Positano, the mystical island of Capri and of course the ancient ruins of Pompeii is more of a Disneyland than a part of the "Italian" coast. I spent most of the weekend talking to older couples from New Jersey or South Carolina than trying to understand the completely foreign napoletano dialect.
But, the funny thing about tourist attractions is that there's a reason they attract tourists.
The Amalfi Coast is absolutely beautiful. Combine sheers cliffs, crashing waves, the bluest blue water you've ever seen and candy-coated houses stacked on top of it all and you have the such sickeningly sweet eye-candy, it's almost dangerous. I went to bed every night with my eyes actually hurting. It was just that pretty.
And, of course, in one of the most beautiful places on earth, I managed to lose my camera. Here's how it happened:

I was walking along Via Krupp with my friend Kelly in Capri. Via Krupp is a famous path on the island carved into the rock face that zigzags down the cliff. We come upon a gate. It's not really a gate. There's just a frame, and it's begging me to climb through. Past the gate is a dirt "path" that nearly vertically down toward the ocean.
"Kelly, let's go!"
"Yeah right crazy. You can go by yourself."
"Pleeeease come with me"
"You're insane"
So of course I went.
The path clung to rocks and boulders descending down closer and closer to the water. When it finally leveled out, I had to stop in amazement. I had stumbled upon my own paradise. What lay in front of me was a beach composed of sun dried boulders that spread all the way to a grotto in the cliff face. From the beach, I had a perfect view of the Faraglioni rocks (two iconic landmarks of Capri) and bluest water stretching out with no interruption.
But I wasn't the only one on the beach. As I kept walking, what I had mistaken for a pile of debris in the distance slowly starting taking the shape of a beach shack with a roof made of wood planks and rafts, chairs and cushions spilling out of it. A little further and I noticed there was actually a man sitting at a little table inside. I paused as I didn't know if I would be intruding, but he got up and made his way over to me, climbing boulders with a cane in hand.
"Buongiorno" he called out to me.
"Buongiorno" I replied.
(this conversation took place mostly in Italian, but it will be translated here)
"Oh, I'm sorry I mistook you for someone else"
"Oh no, that's fine. This place is amazing"
We both look around at the gloriously empty horizon. And he responds:
"You've found the last paradise of Capri."
We walk to the edge of the boulders to sit and he proceeds to tell me about this paradise. His name is Peppino. He is caprese (from Capri) and him and his friends built the path and the shack here many years ago.
They used to climb down the cliff everyday to swim and enjoy the sun. Sometimes they would let European tourists use the area as a nudist beach. I could only imagine the view from on top of Via Krupp.
He told me of the time they carried an stove top down the cliff and cook pasta with mussels for all the visiting nudists.
He told me about his fisherman friend who discovered underwater grottos hidden between there and the Faraglioni rocks.
He warned me about the grotto on the other side of the beach. Years ago, the mayor's son sat tanning under that cliff. He had his headphones in and didn't hear the warning signs of the rock slide. Boulders cascaded down the cliff burying him in a five foot pile of stone. Peppino had to dig him out and carry his body home.
He told me that he has to pay twice as much in town for a chilo of apples than he would have to in Naples. But he hates going to Naples now because someone once stole 100 euro right out of his pocket.
He told me the economy of Capri is dead. Everyone buys a summer home there then lock it up in the winter, leaving the island empty and useless.
He told me he has a 24 year old son, who never comes to this beach because he's in love with the computer.
He told me that he comes to this beach still, every single day.
For him, it is the last beautiful place on Capri.
After an hour, I knew I had to catch a ferry to get home (and avoid paying the ridiculous 300 euro hotel fee). As I stood up to say goodbye, I felt something slip from my lap. Clunk, clunk, splash..
There is the brilliantly blue water 6 feet below me was my brand new camera.
I stared at it in horror as Peppino hurried to the hut to grab a bucket and rope. I contemplated jumping in after it, but the sea was rough and there was no visible way for me to get out of the water. Instead, I watched the ocean swallow it up. Every photo I had of the most beautiful place on earth staying right where I took them.
Peppino felt so bad for me that he gave me a copy of his CD (he composes his own music) and took a picture of me with his own camera. We exchanged email addresses, and I left the island with rather mixed fillings about what had occurred. All those photos I took went right back where they belonged. I honestly think I'll remember that paradise of Capri better than any photo could.
Later I found, on the back of the piece of paper with his email, a short note: "To Bernadette, She may have lost her camera, but she didn't lose her happiness."