The Logistical Nightmare - Better Known as the Amalfi Coast

Leaving Pompeii, it turns out, is much easier than getting there. This is mainly because this time, I am using the closer station rather than the farthest. When I came into Pompeii, I came into a station about 2km away from my hotel. Since I wasn't going to walk with my pack that far, I took a taxi. How much did that 2km cost me? 15 euro. That's the most expensive cab ride I've ever had. Nonetheless, this time the station is closer than the ruins, so no problems with walking there. 
From Pompeii, I need to go to Sorrento and then take the bus to Amalfi. I also have the option of a ferry, but that port isn't close to the train station, so I'm stuck with the bus. 
The only thing to note about the train ride was that much of the route south is a single track. Meaning, if there's another train coming against traffic from you, you'd better yield. This led my train to stop for 10 minutes, with no air conditining, and apparently, in some cases, no deodorant, in a station waiting for a train to get through a long, one lane track tunnel. From there, it was easy sailing Sorrento. 
Now, the bus ride from Sorrento, yet another tourist hub, to Amalfi is known to be a frightening one because of the sheer heights and drop offs. Add that to general Italian driving, the narrow roads and complete lack of stop or yield signs, and you've got yourself a party. 
The first bus to Amalfi is already full so there is along line of tourists with lots of luggage waiting on the curb for the next one. I meet a retired Australian couple who have been traveling since June and they still have two more months to go. The husband remarks in general about their trip, "too short" . I also meet a lovely British girl who is on holiday from her job, seeing Sorrento and the coast, and treating herself on her last day before heading home - a lovely pair of italian leather boots. She's a sucker for Italian leather, she says. After about 20 minutes of idling with lovely fumes spewing out of it, the first bus leaves and ours pulls up. Your basic tour bus, we grab seats and wait to depart. 
Despite all the seats being taken, people are still boarding. They intend to stand the whole way. Knowing what I know of the ride, I can't imagine this being a good idea, but maybe they are more ok with flopping about than I. The other snippets about the commute to amalfi is that the traffic is horrendous. In high tourist season, only even numbered ending license plates can go on certain days, the odd numbered on other days. Kinda like the gas shortage in the 80s except with asphalt being the hot commodity. And they aren't kidding. The traffic is bad. No regard for yields, traffic laws or speed limits, the guy driving is like a majestro of the road, manuevering this bohemeth of a vehicle around hairpin turns while a scooter or a car is doing the same thing except from the opposite direction. The only caution you have about on coming danger is honking. At every turn, te driver honks two or three times. And I would like to report it was some sort of macho, Italian honking sound, but honestly it sounds more like a clown car. Nonetheless, it does it's job and we are clear to kepp going.  Once past all of the traffic, the scenary is beautiful. A pair of British women tipped me off as to which side was the best to sit on for the view, so I've found myself looking down a 20, 40 or 60 story drop off, depending on where you are in the turns, with nothing but a wall that doesn't even come up to your waist seperating the bus -and you - from air. But like I said, the majestro is driving, so there is no fear. 
Finally in Amalfi, getting off the bus feels somewhat like stepping into an adult Disney World. Everything is in English and everything seems to be cheesey and touristy. To get to my hotel though, I have one more bus to take. I find the appropriate one and up the cliffs we go. And I do mean cliffs. When I get off at my stop (after an additonal seven hairpin turns winding us up) which is not labeled in a any way, shape or form, you just have to 'know' when to tell the driver this is your stop, I have to go down 300 steps to the hotel entrance. I would later learn that it is another 700 from the hotel down to the city center. With my pack and that many steps, my calves feel like they may melt off the bone and form a puddle. And while by no means am I a rock star athlete, I like to think of myself as somewhat in shape. This hike down would have put most onto oxygen; I know I was breathing hard. 
But the view. What a view. And the terraces.  In genius European form, they have taken the cliffs and cultivated them. They basically cut into the cliff to form a level ledge, then added a significant amount of fertile soil and planted all sorts of things. Apples, pomegranetes, but most if all, lemons. This is why at every corner of every street on the Amalfi coast you will find limencello. By the liter. I walked through three groves on the plataeus down to my hotel. Lemons the size of mangos (yes Emily, mangos).  But back to the view. 
Amalfi is gorgeous by day and absolutely sparkling at night. I settle into my room for the next three nights and find out the best place to eat. Gerrys Pub, the hotel owner tells me. Pub? Yes, pub. Alrighty then. It's off to Pogerno. Back up the 300 stairs and up the hill to a town perched even higher on the cliffs.