All my vacations are honeymoons


14 October 2018

I had a necessary but lazy computer day, alternating between somewhat productive work-life things and only slightly less productive life-life things. I sat down at the kitchen table at 8:00 and by 3:00 I fully embraced that I now lived in this chair. I still had five days in Tuscany - so my inner sloth went on a google maps binge and pulled the trigger on two train tickets to the Amalfi Coast. Cera had just finished her last trip of the season and we decided that was worthy of a vacation. I guess you could say I was already on vacation. Who's counting.

We left for the coast on Friday morning. Cera and I have a thing for trains and we were both giddy to be spending several hours on them. We had one transfer in Firenze that was long enough for a coffee and dog-sighting walkabout. Then we settled in for our long train ride, both plugged in to the over-dubbed rom com playing in our car, and happily spent the next four hours with Italy out our windows and Italian on our eardrums.

The weekend -- which Cera just told me will be referred to as ‘babe-cation’ in her memories -- was a perfect exercise in we only do the things we wanna do. That meant on Saturday we stayed in our sleepy t-shirts and underwear until late afternoon, existing in a twenty foot radius of balcony and bed and kitchen, briefly, for more coffee.


When we decided we finally absolutely definitely needed to eat something, we put real people clothes on and wandered down the cliffside of our small town to the water. Everything felt like it was moving at the same pace as us. We ambled about until a not even close to respectable Italian dinner time, but restaurants were finally opening and we were hungry and American so heck it. After dinner we found a bus that would take us nearly all the way back up the hill to our balcony and bed and kitchen. We watched as the bus driver talked smack with some ten year olds. He made conversation with the woman sitting behind us. He threw heaps of, “ciao ragazzi!” out the window as he squeaked his bus past people on the tiny streets. I thought about how amazing it is to be able to understand someone without understanding a word coming out of their mouth. And how I love small places where everyone knows everyone else and in a small way, they all take care of each other.


As soon as we were home, the loungewear went back on. We sat on the balcony and sipped on homemade fennel grappa. We talked about what the heck are we going to do with our lives over the next few months, what kind of jobs we could have short stints at, where we might want to live. I told Cera that a part of me still wanted to write but I wasn’t sure what my voice would be without talking through the lens of skating. She told me to do it anyway. She would read it.


Sometimes all it takes is one person to be as excited as you want to be about something to get you to do it - to help you realize how much you want to do something if you would just give yourself permission to. I think I want to spend the next few weeks writing about the last six months. To let you all know what I’ve been up to. To help myself remember and process everything that happened. To make use of all the photos I take for what? And to give Cera something to read because she said she would.



See you soon

On moving forward

On moving forward