I never made it out of the pajama state today. And if you think this deserves a photo, I’ll respond – no, it does not.
Work dominated all my waking minutes and so I’ll pass on commenting more on this day.
Instead, let me tell you what’s ahead: tomorrow, I begin the usual convoluted travel package of connections that I can only hope will get me where I want to go. The goal? Ed and I are anxious to release our inner hiking demons somewhere in Europe where chances of sleet and snow are small.
So, we have before us this: one short bus ride, one long bus ride, one long flight, one short flight, one medium train ride, another medium train ride and finally, a short train ride. At that point (late Sunday evening), we should be in Levanto, Italy.
Where is that? It’s at the edge of a place that is so popular that I have never wanted to go there. The idea of hiking along with many others seems so antithetical to the entire enterprise that I shrugged and feigned disinterest for years.
But in December, nobody hikes the Cinque Terre – the northern coast of Italy. At least that is what I told Ed.
So, I’ll be back here, on Ocean, as soon as I am able. You see, the problem with Cinque Terre in December is that pretty much no one who runs a b&b sticks around to watch their rooms stay empty. Ed thinks we should consider packing sleeping bags just in case. I tell him Florence is just three hours by train. In case life gets tough and the skies deliver rain.
Now back to filling the backpack.