The Boat Trip

January 27, 2008

Photo : Flickr/good_day

I have loved boats since I was a little girl. My Boppa had a huge fishing boat (well it was huge to my 6-year old mind). It was an adventure every time we stepped onto the Muz Too. Since then, whenever I had a chance to get on a boat or take a boat instead of walking, I always, hands-down, chose the boat ride.

Fast forward to my last trip to Florida with my family, when I heard we had to take a boat to the beach on the Gulf of Mexico, I was giddy with joy.

…As the wind flowed through my long locks, I am brought back to my childhood sitting in the captain’s seat next to my hero. I smile as the sun peaks through my closed eyes. I reminisce of the times dolphins almost jumped right onto the deck of the Muz Too while Boppa was creating a playground of waves behind us. Those were the days…

Fast forward further to my 21st year, walking through the hills of Cinque Terre with Jenny, Brian, Angie, and Jon, fellow students of mine. We were walking down this path when a young man was passing us on our left. He heard us talking and noticed he spoke the same language, so we started a conversation, the typical backpacker dialog.

“How was that last town, what can you recommend, where have you been, where are heading to?”

I found out his name was Dan from California(not his full name) and after a short visit on top of a gorgeous cliff situated in a soft forest of olive trees and stray cats, we split, Dan strolled off to Manarola and we continued onto Corniglia.

The next day we arrived at the mesmerizing town of Vernazza. We headed right down to the beach, well the child size beach, but a beach no less. I stood on the beach breathing deeply and feeling the salt air coat my lungs. I noticed all the tiny fishing boats floating about the harbor, what a great day to take a boat ride, I thought. Jenny and Brian joined me at the shoreline discussing when we should take off for the last leg of the hike to Monterossa, the fifth town. I heard a voice say, ‘hey did you go to the Saint Mary’s in California?’

I turn around and recognized this voice standing in front of me. Both of us realized at the same time, ‘didn’t we meet on the path to Corniglia?’ I noticed he was handling a small blue kayak and asked where he was going. He just arrived from a relaxed ride begun in Monterossa, where we were headed. He asked me the question I wanted to hear at that moment:

“Do you want to come with me?”

“OH my GOD, YES!”

I grabbed my large backpackers’ bag and sat on the tiny kayak with my bag resting on my tired legs. Keep in mind; this kayak was so small I thought that my bag was going to sink us among the jellyfish gathering at the surface of the sea. As he stepped into the kayak, I handed my camera to my apprehensive friends to take a picture of us,(or the last picture of me alive, my friend would say later). They looked at me like ‘hope to see you in Monterossa and not floating in the sea’. I had no idea if Dan was a crazy serial killer or a truly genuine person you are lucky to meet in your travels. Thankfully Dan turned out to be the latter. As we were sailing in the open bay of Vernazza, he asked me how I could be so trusting. All I could say was, I had an instinct that you were a genuine person. I actually did and had no fear. Yes, I live right on the edge.

Another great thing about this world is that it is so small, you could run into a grade school friend on the Isle of Capri or a fellow high school friend in the streets of London. Both of these happened to me. As well as running into Dan once more 2 months later at the end of my backpacking excursion in Barcelona with Jenny. Heading back to the train station, we took the metro from our hotel, and at one of stops right before we made it to our destination, Dan walked onto the subway. The other friends we were traveling with were boggled and thought I might know everyone in the world. I am amazed by this fact. The world seems so big, with all this knowledge, and actually it is quite small. Don’t be surprised if you run into a person you haven’t seen in years walking down a deserted beach, it can happen.

About the author: Katie has been to and from Italy 4 times in the past 5 years. She can be correctly referred to as an Italophile. She can be found writing on a few websites but her home base is www.katerinafiore.com