Step Ups

The town of Amalfi itself is, as I mentioned, very touristy. There is a beautiful duomo and lots of shops selling everything you can think of, especially limencello. I'm not there but a few hours when I decide to head back to the hotel. I had about 5 hours of sleep last night so a nice nap sounds in order. I find the correct bus, get off at my stop and walk the 300 stairs down to my hotel and crash out until dinner. 
Dinner was at a restaurant somewhat off the beaten path. I made the rookie tourist mistake at lunch and stopped by one of the first places I saw for a slice of pizza and a Peroni. Not that it was bad, but it was overpriced and fairly rushed. For dinner, I decide to walk a bit further and settle into a restaurant with a good looking menu and lots of people sitting outside. There are several open tables around everyone else, so I gesture to one of the waiters about sitting down. "Just one?" he asks (how many times do we have to go through this, people?!?) and upon learning this, seats me at a table away from the other patrons and close to the entrance where all of the kitchen traffic is whirling by. The table isn't even set yet and I can tell this wasn't exactly a table used often. I didn't even have a candle thingy like everyone else and if there's one thing I always want on my table (if available) it's a lit candle - what can I say, I like my ambiance. So after giving them about three minutes to a) ask for my order or b) pay attention to me in any way, I get up and leave knowing there are other fish in the sea. Up the hill a bit more, there is exactly that. A completely open patio with not a soul there (it was fairly early for dinner in Italian time - 7:30), I can sit anywhere I like and a tall portly man greats me warmly and takes my order. My first bruschetta since arriving in Italy. I don't know what took me so long, but it was worth the wait. I've tried to replicate bruschetta back in the States using good, organic tomatoes, fresh basil, garlic and good olive oil. It just doesn't taste the same - maybe its mental, I don't know, but if it is, my brain is one happy camper. 
Some pomodoro, wine and limencello later, I walk around a bit more and then head back to my hotel, but this time, I'm conquering the stairs. With the first step, "1", then "2", counting to myself in my head. I get to 75 and have to take a break. This isn't good, I haven't gotten even part of the way up.  I think about all the "step ups" I've done at the gym with the trainer. All of the back squats, front squats, dead lifts and cleans I've done to get some pretty strong legs. Apparently, that wasn't enough. Lamenting about workouts past isn't going to help my current situation, so best to just push ahead, not think about it and get it over with. No problem. 
At step 299 I have just gotten up out of Amalfi to the lower street level. Again, this isn't good. I start the next section of the climb which goes past several small apartments set into the cliff. A women about the age of 70 is meandering her way up the slope and I can't imagine how she's managing that climb day after day, year after year. They say that the actual residents of Amalfi are in amazing shape and I now see why. 
I pass her and continue my counting. "478, 479..." Now I'm just laughing in between breaths, this has got to be some sort of sick joke. But pausing to look around, to look out over the Mediterranean, the price is getting to be worth it. There are a few lights illuminating the path, but other than those, all there are are the city lights and the sea surface echoing them back. 
"645, 646..." Finally, the last twenty or so stairs. 400 to be exact for this portion. 299 for the first leg. 699. Add that to the 300 stairs up the road and you've got yourself a solid 1,000 steps. Before the three days are over, I will have climbed or descended 4,600 stairs. 
Bread? More wine? Dessert? Limencello? Anything at all of a high calorie count that I really couldn't care less about given that number? Why yes, yes I think I will, thank you very much.