Italy
Italy - Leg One
Italy: Travel Day(s)
Ah, travel days—the ones that sound great in theory but rarely go as planned. Our grand adventure began with a much-anticipated 11:55 AM flight out of Seattle, but of course, life had other plans. At 11:19 AM, just 36 minutes before boarding, we received the dreaded notification: delayed due to mechanical issues. The airline was “waiting for a part.” Yes, you read that correctly, waiting for a part! As if the plane had a broken arm or something. We waited, and waited some more. They kept sending out optimistic updates about “hoping to have a boarding time soon.”
Finally, at 1:59 PM, we were allowed to board. By this point, we were uncomfortably close to missing our connection in Minneapolis and were about to get the full travel experience. As we were taxiing to the gate, the flight attendants casually mentioned we had only 31 minutes to make it to our next flight. 31 minutes? But hey, it wouldn’t be a travel day without some drama. The real fun began when we tried to exit the plane. Picture it: us, trying to push our way out of the plane, while first-class passengers, who had clearly forgotten the concept of “sharing the space”, refused to budge. But we weren’t giving up! Luggage in tow, we sprinted like we were in an action movie. And let’s just say, my sprinting abilities after 9+ hours in the air were… not up to par.
We made it to the next gate with minutes to spare (about 8), but then came the ultimate suspense: our checked bag. The AirTag wasn’t responding, and our luggage might end up vacationing in Minneapolis far as we knew. Would it make it? Spoiler: it did. After landing in Rome, breezing through customs (so easy, thank you Italian efficiency), and hopping on two trains, we finally arrived at our final train stop, Cava de’ Tirreni. …but we had one more challenge.
We decided to walk the one mile from the train station to the hotel, because, well, why not? We were clearly in prime physical condition by this point. With rollerbags in tow, navigating uneven cobblestone streets and occasionally dodging sidewalks that simply… didn’t exist, we were deliriously cracking up. Picture two jet-lagged zombies with rollerbags, barely keeping it together, laughing over nothing, and occasionally praying we wouldn’t twist an ankle.
Finally, we made it to the hotel, and oh my goodness. The staff? They were so sweet. They greeted us with drinks (YES PLEASE) and put together a mountain of local snacks. I’m talking about fresh olives, cheeses, breads, and amazing pastries. It was exactly what we needed after 26 travel hours and 30 hours of being awake. We were ready to collapse…The hotel was lovely, spacious and clean. And the restaurant staff? They were so sweet, they remembered us every time we walked in and were just so nice. Oh, and the food? Unbelievable. Every bite was a flavor explosion. Cin cin! We stayed at the Holiday Inn Salerno - Cava de’Tirreni.
By the end of the day, we’d somehow managed to walk 9,200 steps, half of which were while lugging our roller-bags through the streets of Cava. Those roller bags deserved an emmy! Our bodies were done, but our hearts were full. After a quick shower we collapsed into bed, exhausted and grateful, we couldn’t help but laugh at the chaos of the day. But hey, that’s what travel is all about, right? Adventures, hiccups, and memories that make it all worth it. So, bring on Italy, we’re ready for you (but next time, maybe with a little less running).
Three Days in Cava, Māiori & Pompeii: A Jet-Lagged, Cappuccino-Fueled Italian Whirlwind
Day One: Jet Lag, Cobblestones, and Pizza That Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Be Hotel Food
After a blessedly solid night of sleep, we woke up in Cava de’Tirreni (Cava) bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to embrace Italy. My husband, hero that he is, returned from the hotel’s restaurant with a cappuccino and pastries that looked like they were styled by a magazine editor. Not a rubbery scrambled egg in sight.
Fueled by carbs and espresso, we wandered the 2 km to Corso di Cava, the main piazza. Cobblestones. Storybook arches dripping in hanging baskets. Grand Churches. A fountain as if from a movie set. It was exactly what I hoped Italy would look like.
It was early on a Sunday, so the shops were closed, but we found a cozy little restaurant at the edge of the piazza, Voila, where we sipped another cappuccino, and listened to the Church bells (at ten after the hour, why?). No one spoke English, which made the experience even better. Groups of older men in their Sunday best gathered like they’d been doing this for decades, laughing, gesturing, talking a mile a minute. Watching them might’ve been the highlight of the whole day.
We walked back, took a perfectly timed two-hour jet lag nap, and then strolled to the Highlander Pub. Yes, an Irish pub on our first night in Italy. No regrets, we had 20 more days to eat pasta. After a beer and a platter of chicken strips, wings and every kind of fry, we capped the night with gourmet pizza… from the hotel kitchen. I’m not kidding, it was fresh, light, ridiculously good.
Day Two: Sunscreen Mishaps, Spritzes, and the Accidental Burn of 2025
Monday kicked off with another top-tier breakfast at the hotel, then we grabbed a taxi to Salerno… or at least we thought we did. Turns out the driver dropped us at the wrong port, and we had to hustle a very warm 1.8 km to the correct one, making it to the water taxi with approximately 90 seconds to spare. Sweaty, laughing, but victorious.
The ride along the Amalfi Coast was pure magic. There are castles in the cliffs. Like…built into the stone. HOW?
Māiori was charming, beachy, and just the right amount of laid-back. Everyone told us to go to Positano, but I’m so glad we didn’t. Māiori had cobblestones, ocean views, fewer people, and adult-tasting coffee. (Accidental espresso martinis at 11am? Maybe.)
After walking and wandering, we found Lido San Francesco, a restaurant with beach and pool access. For 10 bucks, we scored beach chairs, umbrellas, and a view. We swam, we read, we sipped Lemoncello Spritzes. All was glorious… until I realized our “sunscreen” was just lotion. By the time we noticed, I had the start of a burn, and a bit of regret.
We grabbed gelato and ferried back to the port followed by a taxi to the hotel, where we showered and applied actual lotion. Then we headed back to the hotel restaurant for dinner, and the tomatoes on my bruschetta were so good, they converted me. I am now a tomato girl. Total steps: 16,878. Not bad for a day of semi-relaxation.
Day Three: Pompeii, People-Watching, and the Great Bus Ticket Mystery
Tuesday’s adventure was Pompeii—spelled Pompei in Italy, because they like to keep you guessing. We took the train in, skipped the 5-hour guided tour (our backs vetoed that plan), and still managed to see some ancient ruins and visit the beautiful Shrine of the Virgin of the Rosary. That alone was worth the trip.
Back in Cava, we made our way back to Voila (I guess it was a favorite), had Lemon Spritzers with local gin in individually crafted bottles from nearby Vietri Sul Mare. Even the soda water was infused with local lemon and olive oil. (Yes, olive oil in soda.) They brought us so many appetizers we thought maybe we’d unknowingly agreed to buy the entire bottle. But no, it was just hospitality.
We trekked back to the hotel to rest up before trying our luck with the local bus. We wanted to finally shop in Cava; everything shuts down midday, so we’d missed every retail window so far. Armed with directions from the hotel staff, we wandered... and wandered... and wandered. Apparently, the bus sign we were hunting down doesn't actually exist. After a mile detour and a small existential crisis, my husband’s three years of Italian really paid off, and a kind local got us sorted.
We finally made it to the piazza, enjoyed dinner, and, surprise, missed the shopping window again. No matter. We took the bus back like seasoned pros, having walked a casual 22,306 steps. We were exhausted, but very, very full.
Cava Travel Tip:
Brush up on your Italian. Not just a few words but the real stuff. Cava isn’t a tourist trap, and that’s why it’s so magical. But don’t expect a menu in English or any help from Google Translate when you’re trying to buy a bus ticket. Come prepared, come hungry, and definitely bring the right sunscreen. - Stacii
This is what was missing from our bus stop.
