So Close, Yet So Far

If you were to look at a map of Europe you would think that one could travel from the south of Italy to Croatia with ease. You would, however be dead wrong if you thought that. The journey from Ischia to Split, Croatia takes a minimum of fourteen hours, not including down time between busses, trains, and ferries, and a sleepover if necessary. For this particular trip, I left Ischia at 10am and arrived in Naples at 11:15am, to catch a 12:30pm train to Rome. Arriving in Rome at 1:45 (I took the fast train), I had to wait for the next train to Ancona, which left Rome at 4pm and arrived in Ancona at 8:40pm. Once in Ancona I stayed in a hostel and waited to catch the fast ferry which departed at 11:30am the next morning. So there I was, 25 and a half hours since I left Ischia, exhausted, and finally boarding a ferry only to wait another five hours to arrive in Croatia. On the train from Rome to Ancona, I began to get a bit nervous. Not quite sure why, just one of those uncomfortable feelings you feel deep in your gut, that somehow whispers to your heart that it should start beating faster, which tells your brain that it should think more than it normally does, which in turn screams back to your gut to be more uncomfortable, setting the whole cycle in motion, annoyingly once more. Yeah, that one. That was what I was feeling on the train to Ancona. Unfortunately, arriving in Ancona, a dirty, dodgy port town didn’t make me feel any better. I quickly made my way to my hostel, checked in and went to bed, hoping that a good nights’ sleep would make me feel better. I awoke feeling refreshed and a little more at ease, ate something and made my way to the port, which turned out to be mission all on its own. For some reason they thought it would make sense to have to catch a bus, from the train station to an office, near the port, but not quite at the port to check in, before you catch another bus to the actual port where you then have to wait two hours before you can board the ferry. At this point it didn’t even matter, I was just happy to be on a boat, knowing that when I stepped off I would finally be at my destination. I found a nice couch on the ferry, relaxed and opened my Lonely Planet: Croatia. I had ordered this book almost nine months and eleven countries earlier, having heard great things about Croatia and knowing that I wanted to see it for myself, but had yet to even look past the cover. As I sat there, flipping page to page my excitement for this tiny country on the Adriatic just kept growing and growing. All that nervousness and anxiety I had felt just a day earlier had suddenly turned into curiosity and excitement. Suddenly, I had my pen and paper out and was jotting down notes about different towns I wanted to discover, activities I wanted to do, national parks I wanted to visit, and islands off the coast I wanted to travel to. It seemed as though Croatia was this hidden gem right smack in the middle of Europe, and for some reason no one knew about it. I found myself picking up the book again and again just to look at the pictures, and kept saying to myself this place is going to be amazing, and before I knew it the boat was pulling within view of the shore. I grabbed my things and rushed out to the deck to see this place that I had been reading and studying about for the last four hours. Here it was… Croatia.

Another Week in Paradise

At the La Casetta I showered, unpacked a few things, and hopped on the scooter to go into town and surprise a few friends. The first stop, Il Triangolo, to grab a beer and say hi to whoever might be around. I have to admit, I was happy to surprise everyone, but at the same time felt a bit stupid, as I had cried and made such a big deal about leaving just one month earlier. I quickly realized that there was no need to be embarrassed as everyone was just as happy to see me as I was to see them. I can’t really explain the feeling I had returning to the Island. I guess the only thing I can say is that I am one very lucky person. That night I headed up to Gianni’s moms’ house for dinner. Mamma Maria also had no idea I was back on the island and was overjoyed to see me. I had been away from the island for a month, but here I was sitting in the MY place at the dinner table as if not even one day at passed.
Life on the island is very different in July than it is most other months of the year. Typically, it’s much warmer, the streets are packed with tourists, and only if you’re lucky, (or Gianni) can you find a spot on the beach.

Fortunately for me, Gianni has a spot on the “scogliera” (break wall), complete with lounge chairs, umbrellas, and food and drink delivery and as always, a place for me.




I spent every day out on those rocks, just enjoying the sun, the warm clear water, and time with my friends. A couple of days into my stay was Giacomo, Gianni’s cousin’s birthday, and being that I am “part of the family” I was naturally invited to the party. As I have mentioned before the Italians don’t really know how to do anything small, but celebrations are really what they are good at. Well, anything that involves eating, drinking, and socializing really. Giacomo’s birthday was obviously no exception. Upon arriving everyone mingled over a glass of wine (or two), snacked on a huge buffet table of appetizers and salads, before making our way to the tables for course after course of even more delicious food. Shortly after sitting down for the first course, in walks a three piece band, just in case anyone had thought that the food and drinks weren’t already enough.



After hours and hours of eating, drinking, and dancing, the party started to wind down and we made our way down to a bar for one last drink before calling it a night. Back at la cascetta, a bit overwhelmed with emotion, I felt compelled to sit down and write. I actually wrote this in Italian, but will put it in English here for you…

People say that in life you get what you give. I, however, do not know what I could have ever done to deserve so much. I only know one thing… I am a very lucky person. Thank you to all of my friends for making this life so special.

The next day, just the like the previous few days, I headed to the scogliera to meet Gainni. Today unlike the other days, his cousin Mary, the one whose birthday party we had attended only a month or so earlier, joined us. While sitting there, under the sun Gianni told Mary that he had arranged for her to have a ticket to a fashion show that night that was being held on the other side of the island, and that I was to be her date. Obviously I was very excited at this invitation. Everyone had been talking about the Rocco Barocco fashion show for a while now. Hollywood movie stars would be there and everyone wanted to go. I never expected that I would be going, let alone be walking in with a beautiful Italian. It was just a bit weird that that beautiful Italian was Gianni’s cousin. Not to mention, I was also a bit intimidated. Mary, is, in a lot of ways your typical Italian woman, very pretty, very stylish, and very confident. However, unlike most Italian women, she was single, worked for the airlines travelling the world, and very carefree about the way she enjoyed the pleasures of the world. At this point you are probably thinking, “Okay, Nick… and the problem is?!” Well here is the problem; I’m living out of a backpack, have NO clothes that would be appropriate for any fashion show, let alone one in Italy with a very fashionable Italian beauty on my arm. Oh, and did I mention that said Italian beauty is my best friend in Italy’s cousin? Yeah. So I did as any other person in my situation would do. I turned to Mary and said, “Well, I guess we need to go shopping!” Two hours and 150 Euros later I had a pair of beige pants that were easily two sizes too small for me, a VERY “fitted” black dress shirt, a haircut, and a shave. Gianni’s ticket included dinner at the fashion show and Mary and I had tickets only for the show, so I had dinner with Mamma Maria, the family, and Mary’s mom. Just after dinner Mary arrived on her scooter to pick me up. Not making things any better, as I was kissing Mamma Maria goodbye she said to me, “Be careful! Mary is a little crazy!” Then, just outside the house, Mary’s mom said the exact same thing. Not sure what to think, I said okay and nervously climbed on the back of the scooter. I wish I had a picture of us driving to the show, Mary, in a black dress and high heels, driving a scooter with me, doing my best impersonation of a fashionable Italian, sitting nervously on the back. I swear it could’ve been a scene out of a movie. The show itself was great. The Hollywood stars were there, the models were beautiful, the musical performances were great, and it was all topped off by a fantastic firework display at the end.



After the show we headed out for a couple of drinks, and a stroll through the piazza, before Mary dropped me off at my scooter and we said or see you laters. As I climbed into bed that night I couldn’t help but smile and say… just another night in Ischia.
The next few days passed almost without me noticing. The usual, lazy afternoons spent on the scogliera, dinners with the family, and warm nights spent sipping a Rucolino on the patio of one bar or another. I wished I could’ve stayed longer, but I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, I never would. So I packed my bags and planned my journey to Croatia. I didn’t have any idea yet, but what a journey that would be!

La Casetta

After getting off the phone with Gianni I prepared my things, waited for Rob and the family to get back, said some very heartfelt goodbyes, and was once again off to catch a bus, a train, and a ferry. I had no idea where I would be staying once I arrived in Ischia, but I knew that I would be comfortable and that Gianni, being Gianni, would have everything taken care of by the time I got there. So with my bags back on my shoulders, I stepped out in to the 100 degree heat to make my way to the train station. Once on board the train I called Gianni and let him know my train number and what time I was due to arrive in Naples. As I stepped off the train there was a man in a suit with a sign that said, “Nik” waiting for me. We quickly introduced ourselves as we made our way to the Mercedes and drove down to the port and onto the ferry. Once more, I was relaxed and already feeling at home as I made my way across the Bay of Naples, to the beautiful Island of Ischia. As the boat approached the dock I noticed Antonio waiting for me on the other side. We put my bags in the car and he told me that Gianni had arranged for me to stay in “La Casetta”, the “small house” just above Lacco Ameno, and that since Gianni needed his scooter Antonio would let me use his for the time that I was on the Island. I don’t know how he manages to do it every time, and I’m not about to ask, but once again, in just a matter of hours Gianni had arranged my transport, a place to stay, and a means of transportation, and all at no cost to me. I had originally thought that I would stay in Ischia for only two or three days, but I was already beginning to think it might be a few more. As you may have already guessed, I stayed more than three days.

What Are You Going To Do In Rome Except Suffer?!

Waking up the next morning after a much needed and appreciated sleep, I had breakfast with the family and let them know that while looking through my book and the map of Europe I had decided that I was going to head to Croatia for the next part of my trip. They invited me to head out with them to explore a bit of the area we were staying in, but I passed as I wanted to stay in and check out the details of how to get to Croatia from Rome, how long it would take, and when I would be able to leave. As I was checking train and ferry schedules, I thought I’d call Gianni to see how things were in Ischia and ask him to say hi to everyone and tell them I was thinking about them. Gianni, happy that I had called asked me how things were and where I was. When I told him I was in Rome he quickly yelled at me, “It’s 100 degrees in Rome! What are you going to do there except suffer?! You should come back to Ischia for a few days”. I told him I would think about it and get back to him in an hour or so, and he told me if I wanted to come he would have a car waiting for me at the port and that another friend of ours had a house I could stay in for as long as I wanted. Getting off the phone I went outside to think, and after one minute in the early morning heat, my decision was made, I called Gianni and told him I was once again Ischia bound. He laughed and simply said that he knew I would be.

Lost In Rome… Again.

To be honest I have never really liked Rome. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about the city that bothers me, but as I had mentioned before, I have just never felt comfortable there. Don’t get me wrong, the sights are amazing and something that everyone needs to experience. I just can’t ever seem to relax there. So while my last visit to Rome was filled with loneliness, homesickness, and an overall feeling of being emotionally lost, this time I physically got lost, and it was mainly my fault. Thus far in my travels I had tried to stick to some basic travel rules to help make things as easy and painless as possible. These obviously are not all of them, but a few that helped the most; 1) Don’t drink the water till I made absolutely sure it was safe, 2) Don’t look lost, no matter how lost I was, 3) Don’t pee in public while in a foreign country… ever, 4) Never take drugs when they are offered (well, at least from someone I didn’t know), 5) Never let my phone, passport, computer, ipod, and at least one credit card out of my sight at all times, 6)) Always have the directions to the next destination written down and handy BEFORE arriving there, and 7) Do everything possible not to arrive in a new country or city at night. This time around in Rome I broke at least three of them. Being that Rob and the family had flown from Olbia to Rome they arrived just a few hours after takeoff. I on the other hand was on a ferry for six hours and then the train for one which put me into Rome at nearly ten at night, thus breaking rule number seven. Which wouldn’t have been so bad had I not already failed to follow rule number six. Since Rob and I both had cell phones I just figured I would call or text him when I arrived in Rome to figure out where the apartment was, which worked out nicely as I stepped off the texted him for the neighborhood, street, and address of the apartment. Rob quickly replied, telling me the information I needed and that it would be easier for me to have the taxi driver drop me at a church that was a few blocks away and that he would meet me there and we could walk down to the apartment together. I agreed and said I would text him when I arrived at the church. Now for why rules six and seven are so important… I texted Rob as I was supposed to, but after thirty minutes received no reply. Getting a bit anxious and very tired I decided to call him, and soon realized why he had not texted back. His phone was no longer working. So there I was, with two big backpacks at 10:30pm standing outside a church next to a park in a place I had never been before. Great. I began walking in the direction that I thought the street would be in and luckily found an outside bar that was full of people. Here there were two older ladies sitting on the edge of a fountain, who looked approachable. I made my way over to them and politely asked if they knew where the street I was looking for was. They hadn’t a clue, but directed me to the bartender. Apporaching the bar, probably looking lost, and therefore breaking rule number two, I asked the bartender if knew which direction I should go. Again, no luck. He did however say that there was a server who was from the area and should know, and he quickly called his friend over, but again, swing and a miss. I thanked them for trying and headed off in what I hoped would be the right direction and more nervousness creeping into my belly. I decided to stop for a minute, sit down, gather my thoughts and figure out what my best plan of action would be. There, on a dark park bench, in the middle of God knows where Rome, I figured all I could do was walk the three or so miles back to where the train was and hope that I found a taxi on the way that could take me to the nearest hostel or hotel. Realizing this was my only option I began walking. About ten or so minutes into the walk I came across a small bar that was on a dimly lit corner and thought I would give it one more shot, and ask if anyone knew how I could find my street. Turns out, the bar that I was in was actually on the corner of where I needed to be. I happily thanked the staff and turned the corner and began looking for the address I needed. I was so excited as I found number 4 Via Nicola, but my excitement was unfortunately premature and short-lived. Turns out the apartment my cousin had rented was in a building that had a total of 20 apartments in it, a gate that was locked at the top of the driveway, and an intercom button for each apartment, but only a number to say which button rang which apartment. Deflated and once again nervous I dropped my bags to think of what to do from here and to decide whether or not I was going to break rule number three, as my bladder was now close to bursting. So I did the logical thing and just started yelling out my cousin’s name, which, though very futile did make me somehow feel better and let me forget for a moment that I needed to pee. That, however, didn’t last long and I was back to square one and one step closer to breaking yet another rule. Finally, at around 11:15, the good luck that had been following me on this trip found its way to number 4, Via Nicola, in the form of dark blue Fiat and a well dressed Italian guy named, imagine this, Giovanni. As Giovanni pulled into the driveway I approached and asked if he lived in the building and told him my story. He told me he did not but that his girlfriend, another shocker here, Maria did live there and he was there to pick her up. As she opened the gate I swear an angel was standing before me. Maria approached and asked me where I was supposed to be going. After telling her about my night and where I needed to be she immediately told Giovanni to wait a minute and took me into the building and to the apartments that she knew had been rented out to travelers. Luckily, we found Rob on the first try. I quickly thanked Maria, giving her a kiss on both cheeks and telling her that she was nothing short of an angel, and to enjoy the rest of her night. She smiled and said it was nothing and to enjoy my time in Rome as she walked away. Rob, quickly invited me in, grabbed my bags, and offered me a beer as I told him about being lost in Rome.

All Good Things Come To An End

Waking up in Lavezzi we made breakfast, went for a swim, and then prepared to sail back to port. We had a good wind that day and therefore enjoyed our last sail for the trip. As we neared the dock we saw that we still had a bit of time till the boat was due back and decided to go for one last swim and enjoy the crystal clear blue water of the Med. It was a bit bitter-sweet. We all jumped in and tried to have the same fun we had over the previous six days, but it was hard to fully enjoy it knowing that in just under an hour we would be tying off to the dock and packing up shop. As we approached the dock the staff was there waiting for us, probably to make sure we came in smoothly and didn’t take out the dock or any of the boats around us. We, however, had become pros by this time and smoothly pulled into the dock without missing a beat. We would be spending the night on the boat here at the port before waking up to head back to the airport. We had a few beers, ate the rest of the leftover food, and sat around discussing what a wonderful week it had been and what an amazing group of people we had had to share it with. The next morning we unloaded and just to make sure to show the girls that we did not buy too much beer opened the last of them as we boarded the taxi. Everyone was heading to the airport to fly to Rome, and I was continuing on to the ferry port to catch a ferry into Civitavechia, a port city just outside of Rome. Rob had offered to let me stay at the apartment they had rented in the city, and I gladly accepted as I knew I would be tired from the long ferry ride and the train from Civitavechia to Rome. Once on the ferry I reflected on the sailing trip and began to think of what adventures were still ahead of me as I would soon be back on my own. So with the sun shining on the deck of boat, I pulled out my trusty Lonely Planet, and began planning the next part of my adventure.

Corsica

The next day we made our way over to the port town of Madellena to throw out our trash, stock up on some food and supplies, and let the girls do a bit of shopping. After a couple of hours in town we climbed back aboard the boat and set sail for beautiful Corsica! As we approached the French island, the scenery was absolutely breathtaking.


The white-sand, wind-swept cliffs towered above the beautiful clear blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea as we sailed our way along the coast. Once we reached the main port town of Bonifacio, we docked the boat and went for a stroll through the town. An amazing place that can’t really decide if want so to be French or Italian, yet somehow blending the best of both cultures in an absolutely delicious and beautiful way. Once we made our way back to the boat we unanimously decided that we wanted to come back the following day. We checked the charts, making sure to check for rocks this time, and found a nearby cove that would allow us to come back and spend a day exploring this marvelous town. Once in the cove, we had some fun diving off the boat, snorkeling, and cooking yet another amazing dinner.



Up early once again, we headed back into Bonifacio, and enjoyed wandering aimlessly through the cliff-side fortress town. After we had all had our fill of the beauty offered by this town we sailed to the nearby nature refuge of Lavezzi, to set anchor and spend this, our last night at sea. We could not have found a more beautiful spot for our last night. I’m not sure I know how to describe it. It appears to be an outcropping of many rock formations in the middle of the sea, with many birds filling the sky and just as many fish and plant life under the water. Here, we ate and drank as we watched the sun drop below the horizon, we played cards and dice until the late hours of the night, and more importantly than anything, we simply enjoyed each other.





Reluctantly we headed off to bed, knowing that the next day we had to make the long sail back to the port at which we started… Olbia, Sardinia. As I fell asleep that night, as I had on so many other occasions on this trip, thinking to myself, “Wow, I am truly the luckiest person alive.” I am sure other people have thoughts like this as they drift off to sleep, but at this very moment, I don’t belive there is anyone that could have truly been as happy as I was!

I’m Sailing

I decided to sleep on the deck that night, but woke in the morning and almost fell overboard as I had to chase down my blanket and pillow that had flown off me in the early morning gusts of wind. Lucky that I did sleep on the deck because, once I had tracked down my bedding, I quickly realized that our anchor had come loose and we were quickly drifting towards another boat that was anchored behind. We pulled anchor and found another cove that was better protected to have breakfast and go for a quick snorkel. A short while later we looked out to the channel and saw that the wind was blowing quite hard that day, and quickly made our way out to have some more and see how fast our 50 foot boat would go. For those of you who have never been sailing, or been part of the crew, I will do my best to explain the excitement and adrenaline rush that comes with it. First off, the wind was howling that day and Suzanne said that we should probably not run with a full sail to control our speed. Rob, being Rob, said no way and that we should see what the boat could do. Let me point out here, that had Rob said we should put a reef in to control our speed, Suzanne would have been the one to say no, and that we should give it her all. Soon we will at full tilt and blazing down the Med. At one point, I would like to say around 14 or 15 knots, Rob leaned over to me to say, loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough for Suzanne not to, that we probably should have put a reef in. Regardless, we hit a top speed and safely had nothing but fun! Sailing is really interesting. At some moments you are surrounded by nothing but the wind on your face, the lull of the ocean, and peacefulness. On the other hand, some moments are stressful, hard work, and filled with nothing but rushes excitement. There are few other moments in life that I can compare to the moment when you are about to turn the boat a full 90 degrees, have a giant boom swing from one side of the boat to the other, have to pull lines in on one side and send them out on the other , and oh, did I mention that the boat you are turning is 50 feet long? Pure fun.



But like all good things, our day of racing around had to come to an end as we had hoped to make it to Corsica by the following day. So reluctantly, we dropped sail and made our way to the next bay to make some dinner and spend the night. Once anchored, the ladies made a wonderful dinner that we sat on the deck and enjoyed, followed by some cold beverages and lots of conversation. That night a wind storm came our way and Rob, Mike, and I slept in shifts to make sure that our anchor would hold. Our anchor held and we awoke in the morning to blue skies.

We Know What We Are Doing. No! Really We Do!

Up early, we started our day with the included breakfast at the hotel before showering and getting our bags together to make the journey down to the port to do the shopping for the week, load the boat, and set sail. Unfortunately we hit our first snag… the taxi driver was an asshole. We had Tina, the lovely front desk girl, who also offered me a job and place to stay if I could tutor her son in English, to call a taxi for us. She did, but when the driver arrived he lost his cool when he realized that the nine people he had agreed to pick up actually had bags with them as well and wanted to charge us an extra twenty Euros for the fifteen minute fare. Who would’ve thought that people leaving a hotel on a small island in Italy might actually have bags with them?! Apparently not that guy. Tina, being as beautiful and helpful as always, called and arranged for a second taxi to come get us and offered her brother to take the rest of us in his car down to the port. This driver, opposite to the first, was excited to have our money and gave me his number so that we could call him when we were done sailing to take us to the airport. Being that I was the only one who spoke Italian and that he didn’t speak English I rode with him and told him the story of the other driver who lost out on our business. He laughed and said that he was grateful. He also waited for us as Rob filled out the boat paperwork, and invited me to join him for coffee to pass the time. Funny thing, as he dropped us off at the port we happily gave him the twenty Euros that we refused to pay in fare to the other driver. Now down at the port, we dropped our bags at the boat house and divided up the shopping list and headed to the stores.

A couple of hours later we were making our way through the streets of Sardinia with multiple over-loaded chopping carts consisting of lots of food, and even more beers and wine. I’m pretty sure the ladies told us at least ten times that we had bought too much alcohol, but Rob, Mike, and I assured them that it was the right amount. You will find out later on that the ladies may have been right, but we stubbornly proved them wrong. After getting all of our food and booze, our bags, and all the snorkeling equipment we needed onto the boat, we did our final walk-through with the charter company and got ready to set sail.

Now, let me add here that both Rob and Suzanne are accomplished sailors, having chartered and captained many boats in their lives. So there was no fear or second thought from us their crew, or the charter company, as we began to pull away from the mooring. We all thought, okay here we go… smooth sailing ahead. None of us could’ve been more wrong. To start off, Rob asked me to throw off the bow lines when he gave the command, which I did. Unfortunately, as I threw it the back end of the line somehow hooked the cleat on the way down and retied us to the bow line, which turned the stern back into the dock. Luckily the stern did not hit the dock as I realized quickly what had happened and released the bow line (for the second time). Not so lucky was the fact that as the stern was pulled back towards the dock, the bow line that was stuck in the cleat drew the line taut, and therefore pulled it into the prop which shredded the line, which the staff unhappily showed us while yelling in Italian as we pulled away. Oops. A bit embarrassed, and now slightly nervous we decided to put that behind us and pulled into the channel to find some wind, raise the sails, and have some fun. Once in the channel we did find a steady wind and with full sails above us, charts in one hand, and a cold beer in the other we were finally sailing! After having some fun we decided to make our way to a nice protected cove to drop anchor and spend the night. Full of excitement we reached our destination and pulled in. Unfortunately, we forgot to keep an eye on the charts and ran the keel directly into a rock at about four knots. Oops again! We struck the rock with such force that it threw all of us forward, knocked the frames off the door jams, busted the bolts loose from the table, and sent almost every picture that was hung on the walls crashing to the floor. To top it off, the impact made a loud enough noise that every person in every boat already anchored in the cove came to their decks to see what had happened. Embarrassed once again, we quickly threw the boat in reverse and found another spot to anchor. Once we did find a good spot, rob, Mike, and I jumped in the water to assess the damage and determine if we needed to head back to port in the morning.










There was some damage to the keel, but fortunately it seemed to not be enough to ruin our trip. So, once again, we put this behind us and continued on with our great sailing adventure.

Timeout

I want to take a minute here to fill you all in on a few details, remind you of how I got to this point in my trip, and give you a little history about my family that you are about to hear so much about. First of all, for a bit of recap. At this point in my trip I have been away from home for seven months, and more importantly have spent most of those seven months alone. During the month spent in New Zealand, month in Australia, two days in Singapore, two weeks in Egypt, one week in Sicily, three days in London, two weeks in Ireland, two weeks in Scotland, three days in Amsterdam, three days in Belgium, and one week in Paris, I only slept in the same bed for more than two days a few times. Needless to say, I arrived in Ischia a bit tired and ready to be in one place for a while. After being in Ischia for two months my body was ready to resume traveling, but my mind, however was in another place completely. The day I left the island was one of the hardest days of the trip thus far, and the worst case of homesickness I would experience quickly set in. I set my mind to one thing… make it to the sailing trip, and if I still felt the same after, I would simply go home. Well here it was. Decision time. I was about to set off on the sailing trip that could possibly be the turning point of my journey, or the end of it. To say that I was looking forward to meeting up with my family would be more than an understatement. My cousin Rob, well actually my mom’s cousin Rob, is someone that I have always felt very close to even though geographically we are not close at all. He and my mom grew up much more like brother and sister than cousins, and in some way I feel that that had an impact on the closeness of our relationship as well. I don’t think I can accurately describe the happiness and calm that I felt when Rob, his awesome wife Suzanne, and beautiful daughter Rachel walked out of the baggage claim in Sardinia, with their friends the Allegra’s, their two beautiful daughters Sierra and Lauren, and Rachel’s equally beautiful best friend Kiara. It just seemed so easy as we sipped on a few beers that first night and talked story. For the first time in a while I truly felt completely at ease, and couldn’t help but be one hundred percent excited to get on the boat and sail!

Longest Day of Travel Ever. Well, Almost, but that’s another story for another day.

Thursday Morning I woke up for would turn out to be one of the longest travel days of the trip, second only to a trip from Croatia to Italy, but we will get to that one later. As for this one, the plan was a train from Nice to Genoa, that included three transfers, and an overnight ferry from Genoa to Olbia, Sardinia, where I would have to take a bus from the port to the airport and wait for my cousin to arrive from the States, and then take a taxi to a town on the other side of the island. So the journey began. On the train from Nice to Genoa I got lucky and scored a six seat to cabin to myself, plugged in my ipod, thanks again Jenn, and zoned out for a bit. Eventually at one stop the most beautiful Italian woman joined me in the cabin and gave me something to look at when the stunning coastline got boring. Eventually I worked up the courage to talk to her, and we killed a little more time with small talk, that she definitely did not seem as excited to participate in as I was. That’s okay though, as I quickly found out she was from Milan, and therefore wasn’t expected to be over friendly anyway. Getting off the train in Genoa I walked the 2 kilometers to the ferry port and tried my best to patiently pass the next four hours before I could board my ferry for Sardinia, and what would turn out to be one of the most uncomfortable journeys I had yet to experience. Once on the ship, I found my way to the seat I had reserved, unloaded my bags, and made my way up to the top deck to grab a beer and enjoy some fresh air. Shortly after that, the ship departed and the 10 hour overnight trip was underway for the beautiful island of Sardinia. After a beer I made my way back to my seat, popped a couple of Tylenol PM’s and tried to fall asleep. Unfortunately for me, that sleep never really came, and next thing I knew, we were pulling into the port of Olbia. Off the ship, I made my way to the bus stop and boarded a bus for the train station where I needed to transfer to another bus that would take me to the airport, where I was to meet my Cousin Rob and his family. I arrived at the airport around 10am, found a nice row of seats that was not occupied and finally got some sleep as I waited for their noon arrival. At this point I had been traveling for the last 24 hours, with hardly any sleep, and could not wait for their plane to land. Of course every time I woke up to check the status of their flight the screen said it was delayed another half hour. Finally, at around 3pm, they landed. Somehow, as soon as I saw my family’s faces the exhaustion and frustration left me and I was simply happy to see some familiar faces. We quickly jumped into a taxi and made the 45 minute drive to the town they had booked a hotel in. Once at the hotel we made our way to the patio for a few beers and some time to catch up. We sat on the deck for a few hours, talking, laughing, sharing stories, and simply just enjoying the view of the beautiful island and turquoise waters that surrounded it. As we looked out to the sea we couldn’t help but imagine what the next week was going to be like sailing the waters of the Med on our 50 foot sailboat. I couldn’t help but think, “Life is good!”

Pit Stop In Nice

Both Sara and I had to head back to Nice, so we got up early and made our way back down the French Riviera. Sara had a friend from Canada meeting her for a week in Nice and I needed to make my way back across the South of France and into Italy to meet up with my cousin Rob for a sailing trip, so decided to spend a night in Nice as well. At the train station we had to part ways, as I was staying at the hostel again and Sara had reserved an apartment for her and her friend. We had made plans to meet down at the beach later that afternoon, but somehow never found each other on the small but very crowded beach. I had an early night at the hostel as I knew I would have an extremely long day of traveling ahead of me. I was not looking forward to the travel time and distance ahead of me, but knew that the relaxing week of sailing that was at the end of it would be well worth. So with thoughts of sailing the Mediterranean Sea in my head, I drifted off to sleep and prepared for the long couple of days that were so rapidly approaching.

What Do You Do In France? Oh Yeah, Eat Cheese and Drink Wine. Duh.

Now that most of the day was gone we decided to head out and take a look at the beach. Walking past the center where the Cannes Movie Festival is held we found the beautiful beach and boardwalk that Cannes is known for.

After walking along the boardwalk for quite some time, and being that we were a bit tired from the travel, we decided to hit the store to grab some cheese, wine, olives, and bread and head back to the hotel for a picnic on the balcony. Here on the balcony we sat and chatted, enjoyed our French treats, and watched the excitement of the city below us. The next morning we headed to the pastry shop across the street for some amazing croissants and fresh juice before making our way back down to the beach to enjoy the sun and the beautiful French Riviera.

After we had had enough sun and sand we headed back to the hotel, but not before stopping off at the store to buy some more wine and cheese. After another wonderful picnic on the balcony we headed out to find a nice patio that had a big screen to watch the Spain vs. Portugal World Cup game, before finally calling it a day.

Welcome to Cannes… Kinda

Before leaving Marseille, Sara and I decided it would be a good idea to book a hotel in Cannes, which ultimately turned out to be a very bad idea. Up until this point I had always booked at least my first night in a new location before I got there so that I knew where I would be staying and how to get there. Up until this point, that had always proved to be beneficial. After looking over at least ten hotels in Cannes, we decided on one and headed for the train station. Having not written down the name of the hotel or the directions of how to get there we stepped off the train and headed in the direction that we thought our hotel was in. As we approached a hotel with a name that sounded familiar, and we were certain was the one we had booked. Walking through the lobby we were greeted with a friendly smile by the older, yet very attractive French lady behind the desk. We gave her our passports and gave her the name on the reservation, which she sadly informed us we had not made. Oops. Walking out of the hotel, we both looked at each other as if to say, “Yup, we should’ve just waited till we got here to find a place to stay”. Two blocks over we found the hotel that we did make the reservation at, but unfortunately did not find the same greeting. Walking through the dingy lobby of the “right” hotel and up the torn carpeted staircase, we were reluctantly greeted by the somewhat rough looking girl behind the front desk. She informed us that she did have our reservation, but however our room was not ready yet. She did inform us that we could leave our bags in the room and could come back for the keys. A concept that seemed odd to me, but for some reason I agreed anyway. Walking into the room, which was the size of a shoebox, we found a broken light, some semblance of a desk with a broken plastic lawn chair, a sagging bed, and a small isolating fan for “air-conditioning”. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I looked at Sara, who, I think out of fear of catching some type of disease, had decided to remain standing, and said something to the effect of, “This place sucks!” Her way of agreeing with me did not come verbally but rather by her pointing out the nail clippings that remained on the floor from some previous guest. We agreed to take a walk, get some food, and figure out what we wanted to do. Over a decent pizza we decided to go ask the pretty French lady at the place we thought we had a reservation with, how much a room would be there, if we could see it, and how much it would be for the two nights we planned on being in Cannes. Being that Sara spoke French I sent her in to deal with the woman and to scope out the room. Sara shortly returned with a giant smile on her face saying that the room was beautiful, the hotel immaculate, and that it was the same price as the other one. We walked, or more appropriately ran to the other hotel and told the girl at reception that we had an emergency and wouldn’t be able to stay with them and would like a refund. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem surprised, and quickly processed a refund and sent us on our way. Happily we walked back to our new digs and dropped our bags in a small but air conditioned room, with a large bed, proper shower, and a large balcony. All I could think was, wow, how different would our experience here been had we just stayed in the other hotel. Now we were ready to enjoy ourselves in beautiful Cannes.

Getting back To It

Ok. So here I am sitting at home and finally getting back to it. At this point I have been home for over two months and haven't written for about seven months or so. I'm not exactly sure why that is, part of it may be that I was just enjoying the end of my trip too much to actually sit down and write about it. Not exactly a bad problem to have, however, I am at a point that I know that if I don't dont do it now, I may never do it, and quite frankly, that would be one of the biggest regrets of my life. So, if you are still interested, here is the rest of my story, and the second half of my journey around the world, and, "The Slow Road Home".