A Rainy Positano: 10,000 Steps Through Heartbreak
Positano was both an eardrum cacophony and emotional meditation.
Positano, Amalfi Coast. Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
Positano on the Amalfi Coast was a difficult location for me. The rain poured constantly, and the ceaseless traffic noise irked me to no end. I was going through some heartbreak at the time, and, to top it off, I was also sick as a solo traveller.
Still, I can’t deny that this seaside village is breathtakingly beautiful. At the same time as it killed my eardrums, it also provided me a much needed space to reflect on my love, my life, and my goals.
To understand that, let’s meet the elephant in the room:
THOSE. *******. STAIRS.
If you could’ve been inside my head, you would’ve heard something like this: Bleep. Oh my god. Bleep. Why are there so many stairs?! Bleep bleep. Huff. Bleep. Puff. How am I still 6 minutes away??? BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.
I’ve never sworn so much (in my head) my entire life.
Drove me crazy, those steps. And if you laughed out loud here, I don’t blame you; I would too. If you know, you know. (By the way, as someone who works in performance production, it pains me to imagine what filming a movie in Positano is like…)
It was made worse by my ongoing cold (which might have been the flu, to be honest, considering how long it took me to recover). Every time I climbed up those stairs, I broke out into cold sweats, the chill interlacing with the exertion. The humidity of the first two days didn’t do much to relieve my symptoms.
But in a strange way, this exertion was exactly what I needed. Breaking my body stilled the breaking of my heart, at least for a while. I don’t mean self-harm; I mean that mode you naturally fall into when you’re focused on one challenging, sometimes mind-numbing activity. It’s a meditation of sorts, brought about by exhaustion.
In the book The Slow Traveller, Jo Tinsley describes walking as a form of mindfulness. It can help you unravel and uncover your present predicaments and lead you — by your own two feet — to resolution.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
I had a distinct moment one day, taking a breather halfway up the ascent to my hostel. I was at my most exhausted, sweating and alone. It was quiet. I stopped on a landing to look back when I suddenly felt a voice whisper:
Let it go.
It was like looking through a spyglass, that view of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The cold breeze caressed my skin, and the terraced buildings offered shade for my pleading soul.
On that day, I took a tiny step forward in my grief.
It was the truth I knew I needed for my heart. That’s not to say I could do so just like that. It took another several months before I could truly start to let go and let live.
In the meantime in Positano, I spent many an hour sitting on the balcony of my hostel room at night, staring out to sea and the lights below.
Hostel Brikette Positano is located right next to the major highway that passes through the village, and the noise pollution was overwhelming. Motorcycles, cars, and tourist buses combined to create an orchestral cacophony; the discord between this and the beautiful sea in the distance, enhanced by my fragile disposition, was sensory overload.
I figured out after some sleepless, cough-hacked nights that the only time the highway calmed down was between 1 AM - 7 AM.
But the nights were different nonetheless. They offered me space and alone time on that little balcony to eat my dinner, prop my feet up, and just wonder on the chance encounters in this life.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
The first two nights some other girls were there, and they accompanied me on that balcony. We had our own version of a sort of group therapy, airing out our concerns for the future, why we travel, and what we’re looking for (if we knew at all). It amazed me how travelers often go out for the same reason: to find their footing in life again. Something is missing, and we’re just trying to recover it. After that, the girls left for their next stops, and I had the whole dorm to myself.
In the room next to me, another group of girls — friends traveling together — giggled and bonded. Party music rose up gently from one of the hotels below. Everything seemed so far away and so close at the same time.
On another day, I vowed not to step foot outside the hostel if I could help it, only heading out to buy meals. I sat myself on the common patio and basked in the long-awaited sunshine, the potted marigolds blooming around me. I was still sick and uncomfortable. But sitting there, looking out at the sea, I was struck by a sense of gratitude. Here I was, in the Google Images I’d searched up. Here I was, living my travel dreams.
Yes, there were countless difficulties and heartbreaks along the way, but I was finally doing what I’d always wanted to do. I was living life by my own terms.
Let’s be honest: my heart was still breaking, and it would continue to break for a long time to come. Yet the sea does not stop flowing, and the stars do not stop shining. They watch to see what I will do, and the only thing I can do is be true to what I want.
Needless to say, this was not the Positano I expected. But it was the Positano I needed.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.