My daughter chose the Amalfi coast, too.
Ours was far less romantic. We roughed it on a tiny Adriatic island off the coast of Croatia that had one telephone for the whole island. It was some 50 year old (this was 1982) museum piece that belonged in a museum, and it was at the post office. To get there, it took a two day combination of trains, two ferries, and a long bus ride from one end of an island called Cres to the other. There were no cars, barely some electricity, and ferry boat back to a bigger island that came once every two days. The only water was what the rain barrels atop each house could collect. The one accessible «beach» was a cement wall a few hundred meters from the village, which had no hotels, just one of the residents who coordinated arrivals with other residents, who took in boarders. Finding one was really hairy (another story in itself). We only found a bed because I spoke both Russian and Italian. But we got used to the primitive routine, stayed a couple of weeks, and made one friend for life who, now over 40 years later, still finds his way to our house for both our birthdays and our German version of Thanksgiving every November.
= new reply since forum marked as read