Bókin - netbókabúð

Positano # 22026 [Óbundin]

Verð:	6.900 kr.

Afgreiðslutími:	1-3 dagar, að jafnaði.
Tungumál:	Enska
Ástand:	Gott eintak
Vörunúmer:	#22026

Innihald
Positano by John Steinbeck.
Extract from Harper´s Bazar, May 1953.
Sérprentun þessarar litlu frásagnar um þorpið Positano á Ítaliu. Birting greinarinnar í Harper´s Bazar orsakaði flaum túrista til þessa litla bæjar.

I first heard of Positano from Alberto Moravia. It was very hot in Rome. He said, "Why don't you go down to Positano on the Amalfi coast? It is one of the fine places of Italy". Later John McKnight of the United States Information Service told me the same thing. He had spent a year there working on a book. Half a dozen people echoed this. Positano kind of moved in on us and we found ourselves driving down to Naples on our way. To an American, Italian traffic is at first just down-right nonsense. It seems hysterical, it follows no rule. You cannot figure what the driver ahead or behind or beside you is going to do next and he usually does it. But there are other hazards besides the driving technique. There are the motor scooters, thousands of them, which buzz at you like mosquitoes. There is a tiny little automobile called "topolino" or "mouse" which hides in front of larger cars; there are gigantic trucks and tanks in which most of Italy's goods are moved; and finally there are assorted livestock, hay wagons, bicycles, lone horses and mules out for a stroll, and to top it all there are the pedestrians who walk blissfully on the highways never looking about. To give this madness more color, everyone blows the horn all the time. This deafening, screaming, milling, tire-screeching mess is ordinary Italian highway traffic. My drive from Venice to Rome had given me a horror of it amounting to cowardice. I hired a driver to take me to Positano. He was a registered driver in good standing. His card reads: "Signor Bassani Bassano, Experienced Guide-all Italy-and Throt Europe". It was the "Throt Europe" that won me. Well, we had accomplished one thing. We had imported a little piece of Italian traffic right into our own front seat. Signor Bassano was a remarkable man. he was capable of driving at a hundred kilometers an hour, blowing the horn, screeching the brakes, driving mules up trees, and at the same time turning around in the seat and using both hands to gesture, describing in loud tones the beauties and antiquities of Italy and Trhrot Europe. It was amazing. It damn near killed us. And in spite of that he never hit anybody or anything. The only casualties were our quivering, bleeding nerves. I want to recommend Signor Bassano to travelers. You may not hear much of what he tells you but you will not be bored.

Um bókina
Ente Provinciale Per Il Turismo, Salerno, 1959.