“Positano bites deep. It is a dream
place that isn’t quite real when you are there
and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.”
~ John Steinbeck
The Beloved’s Wrist
Love is a kiss on the wrist. There is a certain level of vulnerability in this sensitive gesture that portrays the deep trust and intimacy between two lovers. It is a deeply beautiful, intimate act. It is a shared trust and surrender; an offering of ourselves and an honouring for them.
When we kiss someone’s wrist, our lips touch the thinnest of their skin, and we can hear their heartbeat. Even in the darkest rooms when it seems like we can’t see anything at all clearly anymore. Through all misunderstandings and struggles, in this tenderness of skin, on the inside of our forearm, is where our hearts meet, and we can trace ourselves back to the time when we fell in trust, and in love. We can remain tender with our partner and remember that despite it all, there is a love, a gentleness bared of ourselves that we can touch and reconnect to.
The inside of the forearm always remains so tender – despite age and circumstance. Life changes us – our bodies begin wearing burdens whether seen or unseen; whether ours or of others – and sometimes we lose sight of the tiny gentle things. And there, on the wrist, on the inside of the forearm, we can remind ourselves of the tenderness that never changed; of what we forever hold in our hearts despite changes, despite age, despite hardships; of the way we hold love.
This is what Positano is for me – a kiss on my wrist, a love at first sight, a love into which I fell in my entirety.
I can’t imagine not living by the sea, for it is a true love of mine. Like my prince of blue. And love … ah love, sweet love. It is everything. It is a temple for you and I, our little world. His hands are my church, skins are prayers. Love is sacred as prayer. Forever and then again. Then, now, always.
My Prince of Blue
Cinema maestro Roberto Rossellini once said about the inhabitants of Positano, “They are crazy, sun-drunk! But they know how to live using a force that few of us have; the power of imagination!”
La vita is definitely dolce. And when I tell you that all I did, all day every day, was lay on the beach and be in the sea – I am not exaggerating. That’s all I need, really.
There is a legend that God Poseidon fell in love with a mortal girl and wanted to build her a place on Earth worthy of heaven – and worthy of his love for her. And so he built Positano. So that she’d always be surrounded by her beloved sea, by the beauty of flowers and by the mountains around her that would protect her when he is away (and perhaps mainly because he only wanted her for himself – that’s how Gods loved).
They say if you go down to Positano’s beach at night, if you are truly in love, you will hear the sirens’ songs. For only the ears of true lovers can hear such heavenly sounds.
And the night beach is the best place to be, at least for me, it’s all mine, ours. I mean honestly … if I ever meet a man who makes me feel the way Positano makes me feel, I’d marry him in a heartbeat.
Positano is a feeling, a place – immortal and life-sized.
Santorini felt the same. And all the little remote islands in the Cyclades felt that way too. Little places where you can get lost, and private, and all loved up in your devoted sacred love life. With the one whose soul touches yours on your lips; and kisses your wrist, and your neck, and everywhere else where skin is the thinnest.
Some Kind of Paradise
John Steinbeck famously said, “Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.”
I never knew what that quote meant. Until I left. Until the car drove away and I looked back at the tiny houses on the grand God-like hills and sea. And I knew exactly what he meant.
Positano. It’s just a kind of paradise.
But when you are there you don’t realize it – maybe because it is tiny and compact, feels like your childhood home in a way especially when you see an Italian grandmother tending to her rooftop vegetable garden each morning.
What I mean is – when you are there, it just feels like a part of you. It’s like a body organ – a rib, let’s say. You’re perfectly blended together. But if that rib was suddenly taken out – you’d know it was taken out – you’d know it was missing – because you know what it felt like when it was there. When you see it from afar – narrowing in the distance from the car’s window – you realize what it was.
And then it’s just the siren’s love songs calling us back.
It’s a beckoning.
Feels like a person. It’s love.
Arienzo Beach Club – Hands down the best beach ever – spent all my days there! You can reach it by boat – if you don’t have your own, you can either catch a boat taxi or use their boat transfer, which leaves from the main dock.
Le Sirenuse Hotel – Most gorgeous, breath-taking, romantic views of Positano from their terrace and bar Aldo’s Champagne Bar & Seafood grill.
La Savoia Hotel – Beautiful family run hotel for generations and right in the heart of Positano! Sweetest staff!
Da Adolfo – Much smaller beach than Arienzo but very charming and a great place to have lunch at their beach restaurant, amazing seafood – catch a boat to get there also!