Amalfi Coast & Positano Day Trip from Rome by Train & Ferry

4.55

(178 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

The first thing I remember is the rush at Roma Termini—somehow everyone else seemed to know exactly where they were going, but our little group just sort of gravitated together near platform 12. Our guide, Marco, waved us over with this easy smile and handed out our train tickets. The high-speed ride to Salerno was quiet, almost too smooth for my taste (I always expect more rattling on Italian trains), but it gave me time to watch the landscape blur into something greener. There was a woman across the aisle who offered us some lemon candies—she said her family made them in Sorrento. I still have one in my bag somewhere.

Salerno felt warmer than Rome, even though it was barely noon. We walked straight to the port, and you could smell salt in the air—kind of sharp, mixed with diesel from the ferries. The boat ride to Amalfi was louder than I expected; waves slapping against metal and kids yelling every time we passed another village tucked into the cliffs. When we got off in Amalfi, Marco pointed out the cathedral steps and told us not to miss the paper shops (I bought a tiny notebook that smells faintly of glue). Wandering those narrow alleys, you hear a mix of English, German, and this soft local dialect I couldn’t place. I found myself just standing there at one point, looking up at laundry flapping above me like little flags.

Positano came next—another ferry ride that left my hair salty and tangled. The town is steeper than any photo shows; walking up those stairs felt like a workout class nobody warned me about. We had two hours or so here. I got a lemon granita from an old man who kept calling me “signora” even though I’m pretty sure he knew I didn’t deserve it yet. My friend tried on sandals at a shop where the owner measured her foot with this battered wooden stick—he said he’s been doing it since 1974. It’s funny how quickly you start feeling like you belong somewhere when people talk to you like that.

The ferry back to Salerno was quieter—everyone looked sunburned and sleepy except Marco, who somehow still had energy to tell us about Salerno’s new architecture as we passed by. Back on the train to Rome, I watched someone sketching the coastline out their window; I wish I’d asked for a look before we pulled into Termini again around 8:30 PM. There’s something about seeing Amalfi Coast this way—a little tired at the end but still buzzing inside—that sticks with you longer than any photo.