I forget God. In full stages of my life. In the daily churn. In the to do lists. In the incessant beating of itineraries, travelling, working, hurting, dreaming, etc. A look back on the religious meter of my life would reveal bright spots and long, unfortunate lulls. The love of God is something I yearn to feel. I do not think of it, and do nsot ask for it enough. But I think if I feel it, I will feel happy when I do. I will feel content. At peace. That I am not alone even when I am.That I'm living a good life and that good life lies in front of me. I feel like He's there, watching us travelling across Europe and forgetting to pray.
I must confess I feel a little reflective. I feel introspective. I'm sitting in bed at midnight, writing in my leather-bound journal, listening to Ray LaMontagne, in the most beautiful place, trying to keep Jo safe, keep us fed, and keeping track of a million things for the trip - all while trying to lay back and enjoy myself.
I'm wondering, as I sit here seperated from all that I know excep Jo, if I will make something of myself. I've been wondering that for quite some time as of late. Probably enough to where I've wasted valuable action time with excessive worrying and wondering. I want to believe I'm a writer. A good writer. With original ideas and an expansive vocabulary. That I have the ability to captivate an audience and convey life in its biggest, baddest, most intimate moments. I want to believe in myself and my decisions. In the possibility that one man can reach out from 6 billion others and find something for himself that will make him happy and able to provide. To believe in my potential. To believe that God is aware of the smallest, most personal aspects of my life. And I want to believe that I can change for the better. Serve more. Share more. Be angry less. Write more, maybe even poetry again. I'd like to wake up tomorrow to sun and the smell of focaccia and a prayer.
DAY RECAP: We walked Vernazza. Got breakfast and pastries from the Sicilian Canoli brothers at the Il Pirata Cafe. Hilarious, English speaking Italian twins who make an incredible pastry with ricotta, cinnamon, and vanilla. We stopped at Internet Point down the road. Wrote an email to Mom for Mother's Day. Checked the weather (of course). Rain and cold (of course). And then, Gelato stop #1.
We walked up above the town and played with cats. Stopped at the most reverent cemetery I've ever seen. Hiked up in the hills. Walked down to the harbor. Watched people for an hour. Including the seasick people on the ferry. Got a flaming spicy Diavolo pizza. Needed gelato stop #2. Went to the train station to get tickets to San Gimignano. We didn't get the tickets, but we did manage to piss off the workers who didn't understand that we didn't want the tickets when we didn't understand they had already printed them for us. Went back to our room. Jo felt bad so she took the train station workers some American candy we had and said "Mi dispiaci."
We took a 2-hour siesta. Woke up and went to Ristorante Belforte on the cliffs. Sat next to Americans Nathan and Shannon who are working at the Embassy to the Holy See and they told us all about Rome. We talked about there travels, and ours, religion, sports, and Asian culture. They had been stationed at some far out place in China before Rome. They told us that before the Olympics in China, the Chinese government called several Queue Days where extra security was called in and the Chinese people had to practice waiting in line because the concept was so foreign to them. That explains a lot about many of the tourists we've seen on our trip. Came back to the room, watched an episode of Top Gear, am now writing. The other towns of the Cinque Terre tomorrow.
our room in the Trattoria Gianni. right beneath the stairs.
everyone's houses and gardens are built right into the hillside in Vernazza. this is the door to someone's garden.
happy in Vernazza
Jo walking down the narrow streets
an old dude walking up the narrow streets
some of the town and the hillside
some of the terraced hillside
jo, walking up some of the many grass covered steps along our hike in the hills
vernazza from our hike
the open-air cemetery
jo playing with cats. naturally.
the town from the break water
strong, independent woman staring off onto the stormy waters pose
waves, and right below the restaurant where we had dinner
some lady straight up barfing
old dude and his cat both staring out
old dude and his cat now both interest in same thing
3 comments:
I think you are beautiful. And Jo is, too.
the pix remind me of my mission in Portugal. Saudades!
Great postcard pics.
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