Travel + irony = this day.
We all slept in a little too late this morning, so breakfast in the charming courtyard was rushed. After loading our luggage and ourselves into two cabs and hauling ass to the bus station, we discovered that the bus we had planned on taking to Rome was sold out. So we hailed two cabs, which happened to be the exact same ones we had taken to the bus station. The drivers of the cabs thought this was hilarious. They dropped us off at the train station and we found out that our route to Positano, which had been Siena to Rome to Naples, was now Siena to Florence to Rome to Naples. However, that last leg was the same train, getting in to Naples at the same time, as the first route. So our route was longer and more expensive than the original plan but ended up in the same spot. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but we were all too tired to figure it out.
It turns out that Americans traveling in Europe tend to lose track of what day it is. These travelers are met with a rude awakening when traveling on Saturday after their last train ride was on a Tuesday. The cars of each train were packed and we had to take turns sitting in aisles and on steps in doorways. We arrived in Naples tired, irritable, and not fresh. Thankfully we (Am.) had arranged for a driver to meet us there and take us by van to Positano. This was a blessing because (a) the van was air-conditioned, and (b) the Naples train station is scary as hell and not very safe. Walking through, I saw an example of partial nudity from each gender. But I didn’t get robbed. Silver linings.
The drive from Naples to Positano was unreal. Beauty like I’ve never seen. We drove along cliffs overlooking the sea most of the way and couldn’t take our eyes off the scenery. It was the perfect antidote to our crappy moods. Once we arrived at the Hotel California (yes, the real name–and also the hotel featured in Under the Tuscan Sun), we cleaned up and realized we were way too tired to go out to dinner. But this not being New York, we couldn’t hit up seamlessweb.com to bring us our stomach’s desire. So we went to a local pizzeria and got takeout. When in Rome. We took it back to the hotel and ate on the terrace overlooking the sea. Heavenly.
One of my spiritual notes from the day is a question to myself based on a reading: Do I pray to God, or dictate to him? In other words, am I having a conversation that involves speaking AND listening, or am I just giving him a list of requests based on how I think my life should go? I’d like to think I’m closer to conversation than dictation now, and I’m pretty sure I am. But that might be because a lot of things are going well for me. I have a feeling this one will pop up again throughout life. When will I finally be convinced that he is smarter than I am?
