Bzzz

Pogerola is like the red headed step child to Amalfi - it's there, but very few pay attention to it. Gerry's Pub happens to be one of four restaurants in this little town. I arrive just as Gerry is opening the doors and he welcomes me in. An incredibly nice man, he and I talk in English but whenever I can, I talk in Italian. He corrects me or gives me pointers when approriate. He, just like everyone I meet, speaks multiple languages, although he thinks learning English was far easier to learn than Italian. His language, he concedes, is very difficult gramtically - no one speaks proper Italian in Italy. I concede, no one speaks proper English in America either. Three hours, a plate of salmon ravioli and a half caraf of wine later (oh, and some limecello), it's back down the hill and the 300 stairs to my hotel.
I'm not sure if it was the wine or the feeling of sheer inaccessability, but tonight is the hardest I've had in Italy. My sleep is fairly broken up in general, but tonight, it's worse. In bed and asleep at 10pm, I wake up at 1:15 and don't get back to bed until 4:45. My brain just keeps on spinning on all sorts of things. Being away from home, from friends, from loved ones - being away for two more months. What was I thinking when I decided to do this?!?!? I feel like a stupid school girl who's parents sent her away to summer camp. Except this isn't camp and I wasn't forced to do anything. Eventually I put myself back together and sleep until I almost miss the window for breakfast.
The next day I decided to head down to Disney World, aka Amalfi, and check out a few sights. As I mentioned before, there are quite a few stairs down to the city center -700 (699 exactly) which I now need to take unless I want to grab the bus. After my previous experience (did I mention how my pack was as wide the door and I had to basically throw myself out in order to deboard? Yeah, that was classy. And  not at all touristy. Nope, not me. No tourist here.) I was open to anything not involving a bus. Even if it was 700 stairs winding down.
As I mentioned, there are various trellises of fruit trees on the cliffs and the walk down was no exception. Some of the trees hung over the walls of the property and onto the path, leaving some of the over ripened fruit on the ground. Lemons, pomegranetes, apples. So pretty. Do you know what else thinks fruit is pretty? Bees. They were not on my mind in the slightest until I felt something attach itself to my hand and despite flicking it off, attached itself again. And then I heard the buzzing in my hair. Oh well crap, this isn't good. I shake the insect out and assess the damage of the stings. Three in all, all on the right hand and forearm. I haven't been stung by a bee in years, let alone multiple times. Well, I'm half way down a cliff and first aid isn't exactly avaiable. While my hand is swelling up and the tingling stinging feeling is going through my forearm I'm actually not the concerned. I'm not allergic and I'm sure it'll just be a minor irritation. I know baking soda and water helps the stinging but can't think of anything else. So I do a quick google on my phone and all searches keep coming back with "death from multiple bee stings!", "beware of anaphalactic shock!", and "how to deal with severe reactions to stings, they are no laughing matter!" Then finally a much calmer article that basically says, wash the area. Good to know, thanks. Better than anaphalactic shock.
By the time I reach the city, the swelling has reduced and the pain is gone. What a wussy bee.