Valentine's Weekend
The day comes every year, just as it should.
I'll be honest, I've never had a date for Valentine's Day.
Now please don't think the typical , "Really??" or "Awwwwww, poor thing." Don't get like that.
Over the past years, sure, it's been a wonderful reminder of my singleness. Not this year.
There was no dread last Thursday night, no lonely Friday night with Netflix. Only anticipation.
At 6:40 a.m. (an inhumanely absurd hour) I was in the air on my way to Sardinia.
It's an island off the coast of Italy (if you look at the boot on your mental map, it's on the left). My roommate Maria and I flew into Alghero, a quaint town that I now dearly miss.
Our adventure began with the search for the bus. You would think simple, right? But, of course the ticket machine is hidden in plain sight and the bus schedule? In hieroglyphics.
After getting off, back on, questioning locals, wandering the streets, and a couple phone calls, we found our hostel.
Then what did we do? Like any college kid who had to get up that morning at 4:30 a.m. we napped. After hitting snooze a couple times, we stumbled out of bed. Alghero was waiting.
I swear from that moment on, I smiled all day. After Naples and now Sardinia, I am convinced that I am in love with the sea. Climbing over rocks, gulping in salty air, I couldn't have been be happier.
Only when I looked on Facebook that night (moments before I hid in my comforter cocoon) did I realize that that Valentine's Day was done and over. No "oh poor me" or"darn why am I still single?" or even better "where's my tub of ice cream?" Instead, I spent a day in the sun, enjoying the sea and wandering around the quiet and quirky streets of Alghero.
I'm so happy for the couples that got to do the whole romance shindig, don't get me wrong. I'm all for the clique, cute, and romantic crap that so many hate these days. What can I say, Valentine's Day (that movie with the crazy amount of celebrities) made me cry. I'm fine with what I got, though. When God's ready to throw me a curve ball, I'll be ready (well hopefully). Right now, though, I'm fine sitting here on the bench soaking in the sun. But enough about that. Back to adventure stuff. That's what this blog is all about isn't it?
So, if Friday was spent getting to know Alghero, then Saturday was the day of adventure.
Early Saturday morning, Maria and I caught the bus to Grotte di Nettuno (Caves of Neptune). Sound cool? Well, they are most definitely cool. Not only were the caves absolutely enchanting, the stairs down the side of the cliff gave you a constant view that led to several almost-disasters (head-over-heals-falling-down-the-whole-way-disasters). We had to stop several times because it was too pretty to not take a picture (after picture after picture). Outside and inside the caves, I was speechless.
God is truly magnificent. I mean, seriously. Humans can build incredible buildings and bridges, but thery doesn't compare. The raw beauty of nature can't be replicated.
Anyway, after our workout back up the cliff stairs and trying to imprint the view on our memories, our next adventure began: Bombarde beach.
Google maps insisted we could walk from the caves to a beach. Of course, Google maps doesn't know a thing. Thankfully Italian bus drivers do.
He us dropped off where he insisted the beach was an easy stroll away. After trekking along the coast (not bad at all, remember, with the ocean always in the peripheral) and what we hoped was the right road, we saw it. The beach.
Now, having a view of the ocean, climbing over rocks, and feeling the ocean spray on your face is nice and all. Feeling the sand between your toes is something else.
Reading our books, napping, basking in the sun. It was the good life.
As the sun started to set (and the need to pee filled our thoughts) we decided to find our way home. The bus driver had insisted it wasn't a bad walk home. We were young and we could do it easily, he said.
Alas.
A sweet Italian family took pity on us crazy, confused American girls and gave us a lift.
***
When the alarm rudely woke me up me Sunday morning, I couldn't move. The room was so cold, my cocoon so cozy. For several minutes, I lay there thinking of excuse after excuse. He (you know, God) won in the end, though.
I washed up, slipped on a dress, and out into the sun I went. Now, I do know I'm in Italy and yes, Mass is in Italian. However, that's not an excuse (even though I definitely tried to make it one earlier that morning). I've never walked out of church thinking "that was a waste of time. I shouldn't have gone." That morning, like always, I walked out feeling refreshed, blessed, and yearning to follow in His footsteps.
So I guess you could say my weekend was pretty good. Pretty darn good, even.
I'll be honest, I've never had a date for Valentine's Day.
Now please don't think the typical , "Really??" or "Awwwwww, poor thing." Don't get like that.
Over the past years, sure, it's been a wonderful reminder of my singleness. Not this year.
There was no dread last Thursday night, no lonely Friday night with Netflix. Only anticipation.
At 6:40 a.m. (an inhumanely absurd hour) I was in the air on my way to Sardinia.
It's an island off the coast of Italy (if you look at the boot on your mental map, it's on the left). My roommate Maria and I flew into Alghero, a quaint town that I now dearly miss.
Our adventure began with the search for the bus. You would think simple, right? But, of course the ticket machine is hidden in plain sight and the bus schedule? In hieroglyphics.
After getting off, back on, questioning locals, wandering the streets, and a couple phone calls, we found our hostel.
Then what did we do? Like any college kid who had to get up that morning at 4:30 a.m. we napped. After hitting snooze a couple times, we stumbled out of bed. Alghero was waiting.
I swear from that moment on, I smiled all day. After Naples and now Sardinia, I am convinced that I am in love with the sea. Climbing over rocks, gulping in salty air, I couldn't have been be happier.
Only when I looked on Facebook that night (moments before I hid in my comforter cocoon) did I realize that that Valentine's Day was done and over. No "oh poor me" or"darn why am I still single?" or even better "where's my tub of ice cream?" Instead, I spent a day in the sun, enjoying the sea and wandering around the quiet and quirky streets of Alghero.
I'm so happy for the couples that got to do the whole romance shindig, don't get me wrong. I'm all for the clique, cute, and romantic crap that so many hate these days. What can I say, Valentine's Day (that movie with the crazy amount of celebrities) made me cry. I'm fine with what I got, though. When God's ready to throw me a curve ball, I'll be ready (well hopefully). Right now, though, I'm fine sitting here on the bench soaking in the sun. But enough about that. Back to adventure stuff. That's what this blog is all about isn't it?
So, if Friday was spent getting to know Alghero, then Saturday was the day of adventure.
Early Saturday morning, Maria and I caught the bus to Grotte di Nettuno (Caves of Neptune). Sound cool? Well, they are most definitely cool. Not only were the caves absolutely enchanting, the stairs down the side of the cliff gave you a constant view that led to several almost-disasters (head-over-heals-falling-down-the-whole-way-disasters). We had to stop several times because it was too pretty to not take a picture (after picture after picture). Outside and inside the caves, I was speechless.
God is truly magnificent. I mean, seriously. Humans can build incredible buildings and bridges, but thery doesn't compare. The raw beauty of nature can't be replicated.
Anyway, after our workout back up the cliff stairs and trying to imprint the view on our memories, our next adventure began: Bombarde beach.
Google maps insisted we could walk from the caves to a beach. Of course, Google maps doesn't know a thing. Thankfully Italian bus drivers do.
He us dropped off where he insisted the beach was an easy stroll away. After trekking along the coast (not bad at all, remember, with the ocean always in the peripheral) and what we hoped was the right road, we saw it. The beach.
Now, having a view of the ocean, climbing over rocks, and feeling the ocean spray on your face is nice and all. Feeling the sand between your toes is something else.
Reading our books, napping, basking in the sun. It was the good life.
As the sun started to set (and the need to pee filled our thoughts) we decided to find our way home. The bus driver had insisted it wasn't a bad walk home. We were young and we could do it easily, he said.
Alas.
A sweet Italian family took pity on us crazy, confused American girls and gave us a lift.
***
When the alarm rudely woke me up me Sunday morning, I couldn't move. The room was so cold, my cocoon so cozy. For several minutes, I lay there thinking of excuse after excuse. He (you know, God) won in the end, though.
I washed up, slipped on a dress, and out into the sun I went. Now, I do know I'm in Italy and yes, Mass is in Italian. However, that's not an excuse (even though I definitely tried to make it one earlier that morning). I've never walked out of church thinking "that was a waste of time. I shouldn't have gone." That morning, like always, I walked out feeling refreshed, blessed, and yearning to follow in His footsteps.
So I guess you could say my weekend was pretty good. Pretty darn good, even.
Comments
Post a Comment