A continuing series from Forrest Preece
A Celebration of Life on the Amalfi Coast
by Mela Sarajane Dailey
The best vacation I’ve ever taken wasn’t about luxury or location -- though it had plenty of both -- it was about something much deeper: gratitude, healing, and the joy of being together. In 2023, just weeks after my husband, Peter Bay, received the miraculous news that his cancer surgery had been successful and he was officially cancer-free, we boarded a plane to Italy. With our son Colin by our side, we set out for the Amalfi Coast, a trip that would become more than a vacation -- it became a celebration of life itself.
We made Positano our home base, a cliffside town as picturesque as any painting. Every evening, we watched the sun sink into the sea, the sky transforming into a watercolor of pinks, oranges, and golds. Peter and I would glance at each other during those quiet moments—no words necessary. We were both overwhelmed by the beauty of the world and the fragile, sacred nature of time.
One of the most unforgettable moments was hiking the legendary Path of the Gods—a five-hour trek high above the sea, carved into the cliffs. The views were both majestic and terrifying. My fear of heights kicked in, and I found myself crawling at points, clinging to the rock face and breathing through the panic. But at the very top, a surprise awaited us: a humble meal with a local farmer, his sheep grazing nearby, and the kind of hospitality that fills your heart. We sat on rough wooden benches, breaking bread and sharing cheese made that very morning. It felt like communion with nature, with each other, and with life itself.
During the days, we explored the coastline with wide-eyed wonder. From Capri’s romantic gardens to the winding streets of Amalfi, we soaked in every view, every flavor, every moment. We laughed over heaping plates of pasta, marveled at the simplest tomato tasting like sunshine, and devoured gelato at every possible opportunity.
A highlight—one we still talk about often—was our pizza-making class in Napoli. There, in the birthplace of pizza, we tossed dough into the air, smothered it with San Marzano tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, and baked it to perfection in wood-fired ovens. Colin’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Peter looked healthier and happier than I’d seen him in months, covered in flour and grinning from ear to ear.
That trip wasn’t just a vacation; it was a turning point. We returned home rested, yes, but more importantly, renewed—with full hearts, full spirits, and a deeper appreciation for each other and this beautiful, unpredictable life we get to share.