The Amalfi coast stretches south from the Bay of Naples to the island of Capri and beyond. I had been warned not to visit alone, and as the taxi wound its way along the narrow cliff road I could see why. My life wasn't in danger. No, it was the views: the smudged pastel blue of the sea and the bright lemon trees flashing yellow in the dappled shade of the towering cliffs – this is a part of Italy that could be seen as simply too romantic to visit alone.
I was heading to Casa Angelina, a luxury hideaway recently reopened after a major renovation. It was early March and low season – which was a relief. In peak times I'd heard that coaches crammed with tourists descend on the tiny picturesque fishing villages, blocking the narrow roads.
Casa Angelina is perched above the town of Praiano, between Positano and Conca dei Marini, and overlooks the sea with views of Capri and the smaller private island of Li Galli, once owned by Rudolph Nureyev. It is a contemporary five-star hotel, white-washed inside and out, a blank canvas for the view to fill. The sea is framed perfectly in the huge windows of the restaurant and downstairs bar, with vibrant local art and sculpture the only colour, apart from the splash of blue swimming pool.
I arrived in the early afternoon and took the panoramic lift, which takes you from outside the hotel up to the restaurant, Un Piano nel Cielos, on the fourth floor. There were soft, white-linen covered chairs, and the table cloths caught the light breeze from the open terrace windows. I ate the Italian way – slowly and with wine, the service timed perfectly for the courses of salad, fantastic fresh fish, pasta and fruit. Out of season, there is little pressure. Later, from the deep white sofas downstairs in the lobby bar, I watched the hazy, blue afternoon sky morph slowly into creamy nectarine, complete with a deep egg-yolk sun.
The next morning, I woke confused. White bedding, white walls, white tiled floors, white blinds, white furniture, white bathroom, white doors...for a moment I thought I was in hospital – or heaven. The only colour in the room was a spray of orange tulips and a bowl of oranges and lemons on the desk below the window.
At breakfast I discovered I had slept through a furious storm, which had thrown some of the terrace chairs around so violently a glass sculpture lay shattered. Through the window the view was now a pale slate grey, and being in my white room was like sitting in a cloud. It set the tone for the next two days – relentless rain, but this is such a rare occurrence on this sunshine coast, I felt almost privileged. No need to leave, and no need to make excuses about not exploring. Just me in my cosy white box, enjoying the views of colourful houses stacked up the mist-shrouded cliff side.
To tempt me out, in the hotel bar there were beaded lights which changed colour every few seconds to match trendy colour-changing candles, and there was a heated pool in the gym area downstairs, too, but I spent too long lounging around reading to use it.
One afternoon I did venture out, up the mountain to Ravello, nearly 350m above sea level. From the centre of town a steep coastal path led down through green gardens with old cracked paving to American writer Gore Vidal's villa. Built at the end of the 1800s, the house and its contents stand exactly as the writer left it when he fell ill at the beginning of this year. Vidal has refused to let his beloved home slip out of Italian hands (he has owned it since the 1970s) and so it is currently being looked after by a local family. I had an exclusive tour of the writer's home – a strange experience, being so close to someone I knew so little about. Wandering alone through the tall, creaking corridors, I saw chairs from the film Ben Hur, Vidal's writing notes still on the study table, a letter from Susan Sarandon and a dramatic balcony view down to vineyards almost falling into the sea.
My last evening was spent in the womb-like warmth of the restaurant at Casa Angelina, feasting on carpaccio with Sorrento tomatoes and basil, potatoes, red chicory and leek pie with walnut cheese cream. There was pulse soup with pezzogna fish bites, too, and paccheri pasta with scorpion fish ragout.
Heading back to Naples the next day, leaving the white haven of the hotel behind, I felt relaxed and privileged to have had a private view of the hotel, the town and the Amalfi coast that most won't see. The rain had changed the focus of this romantic coast, but not the picture.
Fact Box
BA flies from Gatwick three times daily. Return economy class £158, business class £228. Bmi flies from Heathrow once daily. Return fares in economy class from £149 return. Easyjet flies from Stansted once daily. Return fares from £115. Fares are two weeks in advance for a weekend break.
A double superior room with sea view is Euros 520 and double standard €440. Rates include breakfast. Internet rates taken two weeks in advance for a weekend break.
