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LE TRE SORELLE My favorite spot in Italy, and perhaps anywhere, was Ristorante Le Tre Sorelle in Positano. It was at the bottom of at least a hundred stone steps, just on the right, and right on the beach. A hundred steps seemed like ten, with delights for the senses on every step. Chic bikini shops with tan young clients, tiny pastry shops, ice cream vendors, mini-galleries, and lone musicians, all bathed in the soft bright sunlight of the Amalfi Coast. Le Tre Sorelle had affordable pasta and a priceless view. Between checkered tables and cobalt sea marched the ancient beauty of humanity in every form and state. Over espresso, we created names for people in this parade, to suit our fancy. “There is Mr. and Mrs. Cold Obtrusive boring Mr. and Mrs. Kind Receptive.”, we might say, or, “There is Mr. Old Fat Rich failing to interest Miss poor Young Georgeous.” Sometimes we would separate our unwitting victims into “should wear bikini”, “maybe should”, and “never should” classes. We made up other rude categories depending on how much wine we could afford with the affordable pasta. The challenge of youth in Positano was to find a place to sleep for free. Step one in this quest was to find a pretty girl who also had a hotel room. Step two was to persuade her to share it. Step three was to sleep on the beach. But the beach was duly patrolled by the Beach Patrol. So the trick was to dance in the last-open disco until everyone, including the Beach Patrol, were too tired to care. Then with luck, we could borrow some fisherman’s boat cover for the night, until the fisherman went fishing. Still, this meant one or two good hours of sleep. Besides, at sunrise, we could swim in the sea and chill ourselves awake, just long enough for the first espresso of another beautiful day, at Le Tre Sorelle. In spite of youthful nonsense, the crushing beauty of Amalfi, both human and stone, pressed it’s lovely wisdom deep inside our souls.
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