Positano, my home town

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Okay, actually Positano is not my home town. I live in Newton, Massachusetts, USA. But for a week this year–May 3 through May 10–it became the home town of my husband Dan and me, our children Margot, Adam, and Clair, and our friends Steve and Susie, when we rented a gorgeous villa with the view you see above.

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Our last full day in Positano after a busy week going one place or another, we spent at home. For visualization purposes, I have outline this home in red in the picture above. The corner room with the Juliet balcony is our bedroom. The next two windows each belong to a separate bedroom, and the fourth bedroom, with a private balcony is around the corner. Below, a broad terrace opens up from the living and dining areas. This terrace has an area for sunbathing and a covered area with a table that’s great for breakfast, lunch, and snacks while enjoying the sea breezes. Below the terrace sweeps an extensive garden, and below that, vistas of the sea, where we can watch the ferries going up and down the coast and out to Capri.

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This villa, like many in Positano, can be accessed only on foot, along a narrow pedestrian street punctuated with stairways.

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Finally, on our last day here, I walked down the 375 stairs (okay, that’s probably an exaggeration) to our local beach, the smaller of Positano’s two beaches. There’s one very attractive hotel and restaurant, and the opportunity to rent beach chairs and umbrellas.

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Myself, I chose to follow the path that from here winds around the cliffs to the larger beach at the town center. 

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From here, I walked farther north, to the far end of Positano’s main commercial tourist area, where the views looking back at the town were–like everything about Positano–charming.

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Varkala – the endless sea, part 2

“I think this is the Arabian Sea,” Dan said as we ate dinner on the beach. “The Arabian Sea!” I didn’t know what body of water this was, but–the Arabian Sea!? “Isn’t that where the Somali pirates operate?” Dan looked out at the water, frowning as if he might bring those pirate ships into focus. “Is it?” It’s amazing, really, what we don’t know about geography. “I think,” Dan said, pushing his food around on his plate, “that we’re a long way from Somalia.” But as soon as we got back to the room, we checked. Yes, the beautiful sea we were on the edge of is indeed the Arabian sea, but it’s over three thousand miles from Kerala to Somalia as the crow flies, which is, presumably, also as the pirate ship swims. This seems a safe enough distance. I decided not to worry about it. Despite a vanishingly small risk of pirates, we slept soundly. With a long drive ahead of us, we rose before the sun. In the ocean in front of our hotel–there was a boat!

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In fact, there were similar boats all up and down the coast as far as we could see.

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The boat landed…

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…and soon the familiar tug-of-war began again. And so we came to understand that the fishing activity we’d observed yesterday was the second catch of the day, and that these fishermen are hard at work even before dawn.

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Not everyone cared to watch. They’ve probably seen it all before.

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The fishermen were still hauling in their catch when it came time for us to go. And even today, weeks later, they probably still haul in a couple of catches a day–undisturbed by pirates.

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Varkala – the endless sea

I ended my trip but began the Indian blog posts, with Varanasi. Time to backtrack now, almost to the beginning. The first stop on the trip was in Kerala–Thiruvananthapuram (a name that I am inordinately fond of, having gone to great lengths to memorize it, but you can call it Trivandrum for short). I’m going to skip Thiruvananthapuram, but I may backtrack here later; I have some pretty neat pictures of a wonderful wooden palace two hours deep into Tamil Nadu but still part of Kerala. But somehow I sense you’re probably pretty tired of architectural wonders.

So let’s skip that for now. Let’s go to the beach.

We arrived early in Varkala, about 10:30 in the morning. We understood that our room would probably not be ready. This was fine. We were happy just to sit near the ocean with nothing to do.

We did not expect to find a serious game of tug-of-war going on just on the other side of our hotel. Wonderful, I thought, that the hotel was organizing games for the guests. But… there was something odd about this particular game. For one thing, where were the women? The children?

Varkala tug of war

Come to that, where were the tourists?

This was no game. This was, it turned out, the local fishermen earning their daily keep. There were two heavy ropes, each being pulled by some ten or twelve men.

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As the rope came in, the group on the rock wall moved closer and closer to the one on the beach.

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They coiled the rope behind them. At the end of the rope was the end of a very large net, and this too they gathered behind them.

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Now both groups, close together, pulled in earnest.

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A man riding a kind of a–surfboard?–helped guide in the far edge of the net.

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As the net was pulled in, the catch became visible–an abundance of small silver fish.

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The fishermen scooped up most of the fish into a basket.

basket of fish in Varkala

There ensued a heated discussion with a man who, like us tourists, had been only a bystander until this moment. Now emotions ran high.

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You didn’t have to speak Malayam to understand that a negotiation was in process. The buyer turned in disgust to leave. One of the fishermen ran after him. More discussion, calmer this time. A price was agreed. Two men took the basket, following the buyer off the beach. The fishermen divided up their gear and the remaining fish. The catch of the day had been disposed of.

Dan and I checked into our room and then went for a walk along the beach. If they could photoshop reality, they would make it look something like this.

Varkala beach looking north Varkala beach looking south

The sun, as it usually does, set.

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We stopped along the way for a drink (a surprisingly good mojito).

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And then later, we had dinner by candlelight on the beach.

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Akumal, Mexico

The only thing there is in Akumal is the beach. And a fine beach it is.

The curve of Turtle Bay

Beach with condos

Beach with boats

Oh yes, and there’s also the humidity. Dan and I get into the habit of going out for a run into town at around dawn, and even so, there is no place in the air for the sweat to evaporate. But the breeze is pleasant, and the ocean sounds good.

View from our patio looking east into the ocean sunrise

Sunrise along the road into town

Beach shortly after sunrise

We say “Good morning!” to the Americans who like us are out running or walking and “Hola!” or “Buenas dias!” to the Mexicans on their way to work. It is a mile and a quarter, more or less, from our condo into town, the same on the return. There is only one road, and it is a dead end. On the road we see houses and condos, a few shops, a restaurant or two. Very little traffic.

Condo complex on the road into town

Cute pink house with cute red cars and red bougainvillea

Front wall of a private house

La Buena Vida restaurant, not far from our condo

Roadside shops

La Lunita, the restaurant at (well, near) the end of the road, our favorite

I like being near the ocean but not going into it. There are mosquitos or other biting insects in the sand. I get bitten whenever I venture near the beach. Walking up and down the road is my main (only) form of physical activity. We walk or run into town maybe two or three times a day. Walking is a pleasure, although did I say it was hot and humid in Akumal?

Did I say “town”? That may have been a bit of an exaggeration. A few gift shops and restaurants catering to American tourists, a grocery store, a couple of realtors, and a dive shop cluster for about a block along the single road, just off the highway. It’s not a busy place. Everyone speaks English. There is a very nice beach and nothing much else to do. They roll up the sidewalks by about 9pm. What few sidewalks there are.

archway over the road at the entrance to town from the highway (yes, that's the main--the only--road into town)

Shops in town

Town residents, living across from the dive shop

I rewrite about half a novel in one week in Akumal, listening to the wind pounding the ocean surf against our beach. It’s not a bad way to live.

Our condo building--"La Bahia"--as seen from the street

View from the patio of our condo