AMALFI & CAPRI, ITALY
Last September, I slipped away to Italy for an end-of-summer escape with my husband, one of those trips where everything slows just enough to let you exhale. And the kind you don't plan too carefully because the best moments always have a way of revealing themselves exactly when you need them.
We flew into Naples, hopped in a car, and wound our way along coastal cliffs down to Massa Lubrense near Sorrento — our home base for a few days on the edge of the Amalfi Coast.
We stayed at Villa Fiorella, a quiet hotel that felt like a hidden garden. Mornings were soft with a faint sea breeze and sun-kissed terracotta walls. Evenings brought a pastel-toned sky that traced shadows across olive trees (and there were many). It was peaceful, removed from the tourist bustle, but close enough to the coast when we wanted it.
We explored the ancient towns: shopping in narrow lanes for hand-painted ceramics — those signature blues and yellows of the Amalfi Coast — each piece molding into its own work of art. In Positano, we stumbled upon a family-run linen shop just outside the town center, where they sold crisp, sun-bleached linens and handcrafted sandals that were made to measure just for you. It’s the kind of place where the owner knows every fabric by heart and folds each piece with care. Three generations of women — the grandmother, daughter, and granddaughter — greeted us with warmth and generosity, and as I would soon find out, that warmth is one of the hallmarks of the region.
Along one of the coastal roads, we stopped at Salvatore Milano's vegetable stand — a roadside gem where the produce was as fresh as the man selling it was charming. Salvatore isn't just a vendor; he's a photographer at heart, directing impromptu photoshoots with his fruits and vegetables as props, making sure every picture is as perfect as his products. His enthusiasm is infectious, and his eye for composition? A force to be reckoned with.
We left with bags of sun-ripened tomatoes, a suitcase full of the fullest garlic cloves I’ve ever seen, and a camera roll so full of amazing images, my Instagram grid would be jealous.
In Amalfi, the cathedral rose above lemon-scattered piazzas. In Positano, pastel houses tumbled down cliffs to the sea. And as the road curved and climbed, we reached Ravello — the dream-like village perched high above the coast, its whitewashed walls and lush gardens floating among the clouds.
We wandered for hours in Ravello — light catching on tile rooftops, bougainvillea draping old balconies — until we found a quiet seaside lunch spot. Slow, peaceful, and exactly what my soul craved.
One evening, we dined at Quattro Passi, a Michelin-starred restaurant tucked away in Nerano. It was a juxtaposition from the quaint seaside trattorias that paved the coast — refined, elegant, with dishes that were a reminder that Italian cuisine can be both humble and extraordinary.
Then came the sea. We rented a boat for the day and sailed to Capri.
The passage was unmistakably Mediterranean: water shifting from deep sapphire to glassy jade, cliffs rising like ancient guardians, salt in the air and prosecco on the deck.
We had another seaside lunch upon our arrival which welcomed our appetites in style before landing at the Grand Hotel Excelsior, a place where history and glamour collide. A night on the island of Capri is a lot like Italian cinema itself — chic, brimming with passion, and laced with impossible beauty.
For dinner, we found ourselves in Capri's lemon groves at La Zagara, one of the island's most beloved dining experiences. It’s here that you eat beneath a canopy of lemon trees, the air perfumed with citrus blossoms, while sipping on limoncello under the moonlight.
Back on shore, driving from beach club to narrow stone lanes, I looked up at homes carved into cliffs — whitewashed and brighter than the sun. It was easy to understand why the Amalfi Coast — a place where life is lived slowly on the edge of sea and sky — is called la dolce vita.
I came home with sea-scented hair, an inspired soul, and a longing to return before I even left.
“La vida is dolce, indeed”