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Amalfi coast residents say that being good is no fun. You live in paradise, you die, you go to heaven. At least with the Other Place you get a change of scenery.

It wasn't always the Garden of Eden along here. Sure, figs and olives drop off the trees (they string up nets to catch them), lemons and grapes vie for supremacy on the terraces, and the bougainvillea is out in December. But over the years the Costiera Amalfitana has lived with floods, landslides, whole villages sold into slavery by the Saracens and, for almost a century before it became one of the musts on the tourist map of Italy, poverty so relentless that it led to a huge exodus. In the 1860s and 1870s three-quarters of the population of Positano emigrated to the United States, after the small-scale maritime trade which was the town's economic mainstay had been undermined by modern steamships. Even today, Columbus Avenue in New York has more positanesi than Positano.

It is this contrast between the precariousness of life on the edge and the beauty of the surroundings which makes a visit to the amalfi coast such an unforgettable experience. These days, of course, you can choose to take the edge off the edge by sipping a dry martini on the Hotel San Pietro's private beach, or eating a huge plate of spaghetti con le vongole next to a Polaroid-friendly spate of fishing-boats in a narrow cove. Look behind, though, and the looming geology puts all this in perspective.

Thoughts of the afterlife come free with every bend of the winding coast road which, as John Steinbeck once pointed out, was "carefully designed to be a little narrower than two cars side by side". The Monti Lattari, which form the peninsula's backbone, are scored by deep gullies and corrugated by spurs that confound any attempt at simple, A-to-B road-building. Before 1853, in fact, there was no road.

In summer, when tourist coach jams and the lack of anything resembling a parking space adds chaos to convolution, it is often literally quicker to walk, and anyone without a head for heights is strongly advised to take the boat (there is a regular summer service between Salerno, Amalfi, Positano and Capri.) Because space is limited and saturation-point quickly reached, the best time to visit the amalfi coast is out of season - but not too far out of season, as facilities really wind down between November and mid-March. May and June or September and the first half of October are perfect: spring and early summer for the flowers, early autumn for beach-lounging without the sardines.

The eastern approach to the Costiera from Salerno offers an easy entry, taking one from the built-up port area of Campania's second city through the ceramic workshops of Vietri into the Coast proper. The western route, on the other hand, drops us immediately into the most spectacular part of the coast, looping from Meta - just before Sorrento - up to the Colli di Pietro and down again towards Positano, with dizzying views of the spume below (it was here, writes Steinbeck, that he and his wife "lay clutched in each other's arms, weeping hysterically", while their driver, the cheerful Signor Bassano, gave them a non-stop guided tour: "Izz molto lot old heestory here"). The following tour takes the latter option, moving from west to east.

Between Punta Campanella and Positano

The peninsula's westernmost point is barren Punta Campanella, a familiar site from Capri, with its squat Anjou watchtower. On the map, the stretch of coast between here and Positano looks enticing; but it is so far off the track, and so steep, that very little can be seen by land.

Between Termini and Colli San Pietro the road shuns the coast, running along the Sorrento side of the ridge. The only side road to reach the sea on the Amalfi side loops down to Marina di Cantone, a hopeful but not entirely successful resort that does, however, boast the second-best restaurant on the Costiera (for the best, see Ravello). At the Taverna del Capitano - on the ground-floor of an unassuming hotel above the beach - jeune restaurateur Alfonso Caputo takes the local tradition of seafood cooking and gives it the most succulent of twists: baby octopus with balsamic vinegar and tagliolini with fresh anchovies and pecorino cheese are just some of the temptations. The desserts are equally extraordinary.

If you haggle down by the quay at Positano, you should be able to arrange for a boat to bring a party here for lunch. Try Gennaro e Salvatore, who have a booth manned by Gennaro's English wife Valerie (a great source of local information). On the way, there is a sea-cave to be explored (the Grotta Matera) and a pretty cove - the disconcertingly-named Marina di Crapolla - with the remains of a Roman villa on the beach. But the highlight of the trip are the three small islands now known as Li Galli, believed by the ancients to be the home of the Sirens (sirenuse), whose song so enthralled passing mariners that they went weak at the knees and allowed their ships to drift onto the rocks.

Positano

It's launched a thousand postcards, but the first glimpse of Positano still works the old magic. The houses are stacked up improbably on the side of what plains-dwellers would call a cliff. To the joy of local hoteliers, almost every one has a clear view over the roof of the one in front; to their despair, this means that decent sized swimming pools are almost out of the question - at least until somebody invents a vertical one.

When Steinbeck came here in 1957 to write an article for Harper's Bazaar, Positano was still a closely-guarded secret, a place that only a few Italian intellectuals and painters had discovered. But its Dolce Vita star rose rapidly thereafter; briefly, in the mid-sixties, it was more fashionable than Capri. Traces of this high tide have been left everywhere - in hotel decor, Go-Go postcards, and above all in the town's much-touted "fashion" shops, which are as up-to-the-minute as Carnaby Street. Positano sandals were all the rage among Cinecitt film starlets, and they can still be found today, decorated with seashells.

Positano has priced itself deliberately out of package-tour range, choosing, like Capri, to use the income from its well-heeled (or well-clogged) clientele to keep the place looking spruce and clean. This must be one very few towns in Italy that has dog-litter bins.

Two kilometres out of town on the Amalfi road, the Hotel San Pietro is the coast's star hotel, and worth a visit in its own right, even if you're not staying over. On the road there is little to show what lies beyond except a discreet sign, a cluster of cars, and an ancient chapel. A lift plunges down to reception, beyond which is a wide, hibiscus-strewn terrace. The rooms - each with Jacuzzi and private balcony - spill down the hillside, and are connected by a warren of stairways. A second lift emerges at the private beach, bar and tennis court.

Back in town, the Sirenuse is a patrician house turned into a hotel, which has a feeling of comfortable, lived-in elegance, with a beautiful, maiolica-covered third-floor terrace and small swimming-pool; it also has one of the best restaurants in town. The Poseidon is health-oriented, with gym, sauna and hydro-massage facilities. Down towards the beach, the Palazzo Murat has no view to speak of, but its 18th century charm and plant-strewn courtyard make it the ideal option for modern-day Grand Tourists.

Down by the main beach, watched over by the cheerful maiolica dome of the church, a handful of bars and restaurants jostle for attention. The small La Cambusa at the top of the steps leading down to the sand, is a better bet than the disappointing Buca di Bacco. For simple, honest seafood cooking with prices to match, take the path that winds around the headland, above the ferry ticket booths to the Spiaggia Fornillo - the best of the town's two beaches. Around halfway along, perched above the path, is Lo Guarracino - a good place to watch the sun set while attacking a plate of calamari or vongole.

Between Positano and Amalfi

The big tourist pull along this rugged stretch of coast is the Grotta dello Smeraldo, which is reachable by boat (frequent tours from Amalfi and Positano) or from a car-park on the road above. Cave buffs will tell you that it doesn't hold a candle to the Blue Grotto on Capri, but the translucent sapphire-blue light that filters through from an underwater opening is pretty enough. The main attraction, though, is the crazed boatman who cajoles his passengers into seeing Mussolini's profile in the shadow of a stalagmite with cries of "Imagination! Lookie lookie!".

Praiano, beyond the headland of Capo Sottile, is more an outbreak of houses on the hillside than a village; but its seaport, Marina di Praia - somehow the term seems a bit excessive for a sandy beach pinched between two high rock walls - is well worth a stop. A couple of cafe-restaurants and a scuba-diving centre squat optimistically under an overhanging rock. To the right, a cliff-edge path leads around to the Africana disco, which looks like something out of a Fellini film with Mondo Bongo decor and a dance floor suspended precariously above the waves. A kilometre further on, Marina di Furore is even more blink-and-you'll-miss-it: four houses and a litter of fishing boats at the mouth of the most spectacular gorge on the whole coast (such unrepentantly steep gorges are called orridi, or "horrids", in Italian). Peregrine falcons still nest here; fighting-fit ornithologists might consider taking the path (a good three hours there and back) that follows the valley floor up to the Agerola road above.

After the Grotta dello Smeraldo, the coast road rounds Capo di Conca and the bay of Amalfi appears in all its glory, separated by the bulk of Monte dell'Avvocata from the bay of Salerno.

Amalfi

Amalfi faces inwards, lining both sides of the steep Valle dei Mulini - the site of some of Europe's first papermaking factories. It also oozes history - unlike the more happy-go-lucky fishing villages further west. The centre of a maritime republic which flourished between 800 and 1100, Amalfi had 70,000 inhabitants in its prime, and many more lived abroad, in merchant colonies around the Mediterranean from Tunis to Constantinople. The locals were skilled navigators as well as shrewd merchants: it was Amalfitan sailors who introduced the compass to the Christian West from Muslim Africa. As in Venice, souvenirs of Byzantium were brought back to embellish private houses and municipal buildings - a good example are the bronze doors of the cathedral, cast in Constantinople in 1066.

The geometrically rich facade of the Duomo is actually a 19th century reading of what a Byzantine-Moorish church should look like. Most of the prize pieces from inside are displayed in the Cappella del Crocefisso, which is reached via the exquisite Chiostro del Paradiso, a 13th century cloister with interlaced Moorish arches. In the square outside, the Bar Francese is a good place to sit and muse on the passing of empires with a cappuccino and a copy of the Duchess of Malfi.

On its seaward side, the town has a brief chance for bustle, with port, bus terminus and a number of bars and restaurants all making the best of the available space. Of the restaurants, La Caravella, above the remains of the old Arsenale, is one of the most reliable, with good grilled fish and a mouthwatering panna cotta dessert with lemon marmalade topping.

On the hillside at the west edge of town lies an old Cappuchin convent, now the Hotel Cappuccini Convento - reached by an alarmingly exposed lift of green girders (lifts are an essential part of the amalfi coast experience). In the corridors, forgotten stage divas simper from behind dusty frames, setting a tone of faded gentility which the rooms live up to. But the view from the monks' walk is unforgettable, and the prices are honest. Amalfi's other main hotel is also housed in a convent. The Luna Convento hosted Wagner, Ibsen, Bismarck, Tennesse Williams, and Mussolini - though not all at the same time (now there's an idea for a novel). It has a marvelous glassed-in central cloister, where breakfast is served in summer, and a swimming pool sheltering beneath the Saracen tower opposite.

Atrani is so close to Amalfi that people park there and walk. The corniche arches over the main square of his pretty fishing village and wraps itself around the church of Santa Maria Maddalena. This was the upmarket, residential part of Amalfi in the 10th century; today it still has some of the best examples of the vernacular architecture of the Costiera. It also has a very good trattoria: 'A Paranza, where they certainly know one end of an octopus from the other. The seafood antipasti alone would justify the visit.

Ravello

Ravello is special. It stands aloof on a stone raft between two steep valleys. Like its rival Amalfi, it grew rich thanks to the skill of its merchants, especially between the 12th and 14th centuries. But whereas in Amalfi you can imagine ("lookie lookie!") the traders haggling on the quay, the colourful market stalls, a babel of tongues in the narrow, covered side-streets, Ravello feels as though it has always been above all that. Its wealthy citizens beautified churches, endowed convents, and built themselves splendid, walled palaces in the Norman-Saracenic style, with gardens and fountains.

If Positano calls for a designer fisherman's smock, Ravello cries out for a cream linen jacket plus optional sketchbook and/or notepad. This is a classic writer's refuge, after all: D. H. Lawrence worked on Lady Chatterley here (who wouldn't), and Gore Vidal wouldn't dream of prosifying anywhere else.

It is always a couple of degrees cooler up here than down on the coast, though in August that may not be enough, especially with all those stairs to negotiate. The road stops outside the walls, adding immeasurably to the charm of the place, but making access to some hotels difficult; it is often a good idea to phone ahead for help with luggage.

The Duomo is the most impressive church on the Costiera, with its bronze doors and the two exquisite marble ambos (pulpits) that face each other across the nave, adorned with Cosmatesque mosaics; there is also a good museum in the crypt. Most people, though, come to Ravello for its villas. Both are historical assemblages, and both were given their present appearance by expatriate Britons. The Villa Rufolo, begun in the 11th century, was built for Ravello's leading family, who are mentioned in Boccaccio's Decameron. By the time Scotsman Francis Reid bought the place in 1851, the tower, villa and "giardini maravigliosi" had fallen into ruin. The architectural part of the complex was reborn as a post-Victorian melange, in which Moorish arches soar above Gothic vaults. But the gardens - which Wagner took as his inspiration for the enchanted glades of Klingsor in Parsifal - are the main thing, with scenic parterres of burnt umber studded with geometric beds of colour, a triumph of art set off by the beetling nature beyond. Between June and September concerts are held here.

Villa Cimbrone is a fair walk from the centre, but worth the slog. The uniqueness of the surroundings makes the villa itself - now the Hotel Villa Cimbrone - the most special of the town's hotels (though it's not for everyone, given the lack of car access). Bought by Lord Grimthorpe at the turn of the century, it hosted most of the Bloomsbury group and assorted hangers-on in the twenties; later, Greta Garbo and Leopold Stokowski came to canoodle. This sense of being a privileged guest is felt even today, especially in the evening or early morning when the beautiful gardens - the highpoint of any visit to Ravello - are closed to interlopers. Many of the rooms are museum pieces in their own right, with frescoed ceilings and antique furniture.

There is no shortage of hotels in Ravello, especially now that Virgin have opened the Palazzo Sasso, a luxury five-star hotel in a converted 12th century palazzo. Trim and tasteful - though they could do without the piped Vivaldi - this will be an even more attractive proposition when the swimming-pool is built, hopefully in time for the 1998 summer season. What it does have already is the best restaurant on the amalfi coast. Chef Antonio Genovese trained at the Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence, which is a recommendation in itself. His grilled swordfish with borlotti beans, crisped spinach and pomodorini - to cite just one creation - is simply perfect.

Of the other hotels, the five-star Palumbo offers antique splendor and the most delightful vine-coverd garden terrace, while the mid-range Villa Maria has a swimming-pool. Both are better bets than the rather down-at-heel Caruso Belvedere. For eating - if budget and/or inclination do not stretch to the Palazzo Sasso - there is a good trattoria not far from the Duomo, Cump Cosimo, where it is even possible to steer a fishless course through dinner - not always easy around these parts.

The coast east of Amalfi

Spectacular to drive through, but by no means the best place on the coast to stay, the stretch between Amalfi and Salerno has, in Maiori, the Costiera's only example of a nondescript seaside resort. Minori, which comes first for those heading east, huddles around the mouth of another of those steep-sided valleys. It's not picturesque in a Positano sense, but it does have the coast's best classical site - a Roman villa with the remains of a viridarium (sunken garden) and a small museum of finds from here and elsewhere along the coast. Minori is connected to Ravello by an ancient staircase that descends the hillside past some fine old churches: a light lunch at L'Arsenale will set you up for the walk back.

After Maiori the corniche negotiates the great massif of Monte dell'Avvocata, providing views which are as romantique as any along the coast. The pretty fishing village of Cetara has a photogenic Saracen watchtower and small beach. Of all the villages along the coast, this is the one with the most active fishing-fleet - something which is brought home to one at the Acquapazza restaurant. Preserved fish is the local speciality - especially tuna in oil and anchovies, which are salted in ceramic pots with weighted tops. It is also probably the only place in the world where you can still find the famed Roman fish sauce, garum (referred to by the locals as colatura di alici), which is today produced in the late autumn in minute quantities, strictly for home consumption. To try it, either come and eat at the Acquapazza at the right time of year (December-March), or marry a local. Vietri sul Mare, the last town on the Costiera, is a busy place, already under the influence of big brother Salerno. But there is one very good reason for stopping here: its ceramic workshops. Vietri has a tradition going back to Roman times, which is documented in the small but well laid-out Museo della Ceramica Vietrese, in the castle of Raito, just off the Amalfi road. Back in town, the extraordinary Ceramistica Solimene - an Aladdin's cave of a shop, which looks from the outside like something Gaudi might have designed at the age of five - is the best place to invest in some faux-naif crockery, at extremely reasonable prices. This article originally appeared in Conde Nast Traveller (UK)

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