Why the love affair with Amalfi Coast?

A love letter to the place I tried very hard not to fall for.

 

Dear Amalfi Coast,

I owe you an apology.

I will admit, I was sceptical.

Actually, I’d actively avoided you.

The sheer volume of influencer posts had given me the ick. The perfectly positioned Aperol Spritz. The linen dresses. The boats. The lemons. The impossible blue water. Positano photographed from precisely the same angle approximately 4.7 million times.

Surely nowhere could be that beautiful.

And then there was the journey.

The winding roads. The cliffs. The thought of dragging luggage through tiny Italian streets.

And, most terrifying of all: the stairs.

Stairs to my hotel. Stairs to my beach. Stairs to dinner. Stairs apparently just for the sake of stairs.

You intimidated me, Amalfi.

But you were also always there in the back of my mind — a little like the one who got away.

And I decided I didn’t want to look back one day and wonder what all the fuss had been about.

So I came.

And bloody hell.

Now I understand.

YOU ARE RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL

Thirty-degree days.

Warm Mediterranean water.

Balmy evenings where the sky slowly changes colour and nobody seems remotely interested in going inside.

Every morning I would look out and photograph you again.

And again.

And again.

As if overnight someone might have moved the cliffs, repainted the sea or taken away those extraordinary little villages somehow clinging to the mountainside.

They hadn’t.

You were just as beautiful the next morning.

There is a reason this coastline has inspired such devotion for centuries. The Amalfi Coast is a UNESCO World Heritage landscape, celebrated not simply for its natural beauty but for the extraordinary relationship between people and this seemingly impossible terrain.

Humans looked at sheer cliffs tumbling into the Mediterranean and apparently thought:

Yes. Let’s build a civilisation here.

Homes stack above one another. Churches emerge between terraces. Lemon groves grow where you would think nothing possibly could.

Roads cling to mountains.

And staircases connect everything.

So. Many. Staircases.

Yet somehow it works.

PRAIANO, YOU WERE THE ONE

We chose Praiano, sitting between Positano and Amalfi, and I’m so glad we did.

It feels a little softer around the edges.

Still beautiful. Still very much part of the Amalfi Coast machine. But there are moments when it feels more like an Italian village than a destination designed entirely for tourists.

And there’s history beneath all that beauty.

During the Middle Ages, Praiano formed part of the ancient Maritime Republic of Amalfi. The village traditionally existed almost as two worlds: farmers lived higher on the mountain while fishermen lived closer to the sea. Fishing, coral harvesting, agriculture and maritime trade shaped life here for centuries.

Even its ancient name, Pelagianum, is believed to reference the open sea.

And apparently the Doges of Amalfi once chose Praiano as a summer residence.

So essentially people have been escaping here for ridiculously beautiful summer holidays for hundreds of years.

I respect their judgement.

HOME WAS TRAMONTO D’ORO

Our base was Hotel Tramonto d’Oro, a family-run hotel that has been welcoming guests in Praiano since 1952.

And the name couldn’t be more appropriate: Golden Sunset.

Three generations of the Esposito family have run the hotel, and there’s something about that which captures what I loved most about Praiano. Yes, you’re staying somewhere people travel across the world to visit, but there is still family behind it.

There’s a rooftop swimming pool, restaurant and those enormous views across the Mediterranean that make leaving the hotel entirely optional.

Some days, simply sitting beside the pool looking out over the coast feels like enough.

Because Amalfi does something strange to you.

It makes doing absolutely nothing feel like you’ve had an incredibly productive day.

THEN WE DISCOVERED ONE FIRE

Below us was One Fire Beach at Cala della Gavitella.

Amazing.

Getting there?

Approximately 400 steps from around the Church of San Gennaro.

Going down, I was practically skipping.

Look at me! Amalfi! Mediterranean! Beach club! Cocktails!

Several hours, two cocktails and an entire day in the sun later, somebody probably should have reminded me that what goes down eventually has to come back up.

I stopped counting steps.

There may have been bargaining with God.

There were definitely regrets.

But would I do it again?

Immediately.

One Fire sits on the rocks overlooking that impossible blue water, with music, cocktails, food and its wonderfully mad afternoon Melon Time ritual.

And if 400 steps don’t sound like your idea of a holiday, there are boat shuttle options from Marina di Praia and Positano.

Learn from me.

YOU NEED TO SEE AMALFI FROM THE WATER

If I give you one non-negotiable for this coastline, it’s this:

Book the boat.

Don’t think about it.

Just do it.

Our day with Sea & Sun Charter completely changed the way I saw the Amalfi Coast.

Because the coastline is spectacular from the road.

But from the Mediterranean?

It’s something else entirely.

We headed towards Capri privately, stopping to swim along the way.

White Grotto.

Green Grotto.

Blue Grotto.

The Lovers’ Arch.

Little caves and coves.

Random swimming stops simply because the water looked too beautiful not to jump into.

There is something deeply romantic about diving from a boat into that sea.

The water is warm. The salt holds you up. You float on your back looking towards cliffs that don’t seem real.

Lunch.

Prosecco.

Sun.

Sea.

No schedule that particularly matters.

And somewhere around the Lovers’ Arch I couldn’t help thinking:

If somebody happened to have a ring in their pocket, this wouldn’t exactly be the worst place in the world to pull it out.

Just saying.

AND THEN THERE ARE THE SUNSETS

Praiano has another little advantage.

Its position gives you extraordinary sunset views towards Positano and Capri, and Cala della Gavitella is one of the rare spots along this mountainous coastline where the sun remains visible until very late in the day.

Which brings me to one of my favourite discoveries:

Café Mirante.

Go for sunset.

Order ma cocktail.

Then probably order another.

This little family-run spot has that wonderfully unmanufactured Italian charm that luxury hotels spend millions trying to recreate.

Tables for two. Couples everywhere. The Mediterranean below you. Sunset happening directly in front of you.

And cocktails that taste as though they were mixed by the gods.

Then came the fried gnocchi.

WOW.

There are foods you remember because they were technically brilliant.

And then there are foods you remember because you ate them somewhere beautiful, slightly sun-drunk, ridiculously happy, with the person opposite you and the sea glowing behind them.

These were those gnocchi.

THE FOOD

Seafood abounds.

Fish that tastes like it was swimming earlier that morning.

Tomatoes that remind you tomatoes are actually supposed to taste like something.

Pasta.

Lemons.

Olive oil.

Mozzarella.

Simple dishes where nobody seems interested in unnecessarily interfering with very good ingredients.

There is a generosity to the food here.

It doesn’t feel designed in a laboratory for Instagram.

It feels like someone’s Nonna made it for you and will be personally offended if you don’t finish it.

My kind of dining.

THE RED FLAGS

Because this is a love letter, not a delusion.

You’re expensive, Amalfi.

Very.

Accommodation, beach clubs, boats, restaurants, cocktails — the euros disappear with impressive efficiency.

But like most great romances, apparently magic comes at a price.

You’re also busy.

And those roads aren’t for the faint-hearted.

And I wasn’t exaggerating about the stairs.

Pack sensible shoes alongside the ridiculous sandals you bought specifically for photographs.

But here’s what surprised me.

Among all that movement, there is still serenity.

Sit beside the water.

Find a tiny restaurant.

Wake before everyone else.

Watch fishing boats move across the sea.

Have a coffee without checking your phone.

Suddenly the famous Amalfi chaos disappears.

We visited in September, and for me it was the sweet spot: warm, proper summer weather without the absolute peak-season intensity.

GETTING HERE

We flew into Naples, and my advice is simple:

Book the private transfer.

Yes, it costs more.

No, this isn’t where I’d economise.

A driver meeting you at the airport and delivering you directly to your hotel removes a lot of the logistical gymnastics involved in reaching the coast - particularly when you’re carrying luggage.

Public transport is possible and cheaper. From Naples you can travel towards the coast using combinations of train and bus; typically via Sorrento or Salerno depending on your destination, before connecting with local buses along the Amalfi Coast.

But after a flight, with luggage, on unfamiliar roads?

Private transfer.

Spend the money.

You’ll forgive yourself approximately five minutes into that coastal drive.

SO WHY THE LOVE AFFAIR?

That’s what I wanted to understand.

Why Amalfi?

Why do people honeymoon here?

Why do people propose here?

Why do photographs of this coastline appear endlessly in magazines, movies and feeds?

Why does everyone keep coming back?

Now I get it.

There is something almost absurd about the natural beauty of this place.

The cliffs.

The sea.

The light.

And then there is the human part of it — generations of people who somehow built homes, churches, fishing villages, terraces, roads and entire lives into terrain that looks virtually impossible to inhabit.

It’s jaw-dropping.

Heart-stopping.

A little crazy.

And incredibly beautiful.

You feel the money here, yes.

You see the tourism.

You see the Instagram shots being taken.

But somehow none of that managed to overpower the thing we had all travelled to see.

You.

The Mediterranean.

The mountains.

The sunsets.

The villages clinging stubbornly to the cliffs.

The feeling of jumping from a boat into warm blue water.

The person sitting opposite you at a table for two.

The moment when the sun drops and everything turns gold.

I feared you for all sorts of ridiculous reasons, Amalfi.

I thought perhaps you’d be overrated.

Instead, I found you warm, intoxicating, romantic and completely magical.

Would I come back?

Absolutely.

And yes, I’m afraid I’ve become one of those people.

I’ll photograph you.

I’ll post you.

I’ll plaster you all over my feed.

Sorry, not sorry.

Because now I understand why everyone does it.

We just want everyone else to see why we fell in love.

Love, me