Positano is absurdly beautiful and mildly inconvenient, which may be the most honest thing about it.
The town appears to have been poured down the side of a mountain and told to stop just before the sea. Houses stack above one another in faded pink, yellow and white. Roads cling to the cliff. Nearly everything worth reaching involves stairs, and the view usually makes you forgive them.
That geography shapes the trip. Positano does not have a train station, and the road along the Amalfi Coast can be slow when traffic is heavy. Ferries can be the most graceful way to arrive when they are operating, but routes change with weather and season. Check the current schedule instead of treating an old travel article as a transportation contract.
Once there, walk. The lanes between the upper road and Spiaggia Grande hold small shops, terraces, churches and occasional openings where the whole coast suddenly appears. The Church of Santa Maria Assunta and its tiled dome anchor the view near the water, but the town makes more sense as a place to wander than a set of attractions to collect.
The beach is famous and busy. A boat can create some distance from the crowds and show why this coastline became famous in the first place. If you want a longer day on foot, the Path of the Gods runs high above the coast, although reaching and leaving the trail deserves its own planning. It is a hike, not an extension of lunch.
Positano can become expensive and crowded quickly. Stay longer than a rushed day trip if you can, book what matters in advance and leave enough room for a slow meal without needing it to become the best meal of your life. No restaurant needs that kind of pressure.
The town is not undiscovered, effortless or particularly practical. It is a vertical little argument that beauty does not always need to make life easy.