You’ll start your private Amalfi Coast tour in Ravello’s peaceful lanes before exploring Amalfi’s lively heart and tasting fresh pastries. Enjoy a farmhouse lunch overlooking Positano’s cliffs, then stroll its winding alleys before your driver returns you to your hotel or ship. It’s a day full of small moments you’ll want to remember.
The tour lasts most of a day with stops in Ravello, Amalfi, lunch near Positano, and time in Positano before returning.
Yes, private transportation includes pickup from your hotel, train station or cruise ship.
Lunch at a farmhouse near Positano is included in the tour.
The tour is wheelchair accessible and offers infant seats; strollers and service animals are allowed.
You visit Ravello, Amalfi, and Positano during the day trip.
You spend about one hour each in Ravello and Amalfi, plus time for lunch and exploring Positano.
No specific entry fees are mentioned; visits focus on town centers and landmarks like Villa Rufolo ruins.
Your day includes private transportation with pickup from your hotel or cruise ship, an hour each to explore Ravello and Amalfi at your own pace, a traditional farmhouse lunch overlooking Positano’s hillsides (with plenty of homemade food), time to wander Positano’s colorful alleys after lunch—and drop-off wherever you need at the end.
We rolled into Ravello just as the town was waking up—old men already out with their newspapers, that kind of slow Italian start I wish I could bottle. Our guide (Antonio, who seems to know everyone) pointed out the Duomo and told us a story about Wagner getting inspired here. I’m not sure if it was the light or the quiet, but something about those villa gardens felt almost unreal. The air smelled faintly of lemons and coffee drifting from a tiny bar—couldn’t resist grabbing an espresso before we wandered off to peek at Villa Rufolo’s ruins. I probably took too many photos of old stone walls.
Amalfi itself was busier—kids darting between tourists, church bells echoing through narrow streets. We only had an hour but somehow squeezed in a quick look inside the cathedral (the steps are steeper than they look). Antonio waved at someone selling pastries; he said you have to try sfogliatella here, so we did. Flaky layers and orange blossom filling—honestly, I still think about that taste. It’s funny how every corner smells different: sea breeze near the harbor, then suddenly incense by the Duomo doors.
The drive up to Positano wound higher than I expected—every turn showed another slice of blue water below. Lunch was at this farmhouse called La Tagliata up on the hills. The owner’s daughter brought out plates of homemade pasta and vegetables from their garden; she laughed when my friend tried to pronounce “melanzane.” We ate outside with chickens clucking somewhere nearby and a view that made us all go quiet for a minute. Afterward, wandering through Positano’s alleys felt like walking through someone’s dream—colors everywhere, laundry fluttering above us. On the way back I realized I’d barely checked my phone all day.

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