Girl and City

On our first morning in Cinque Terre, I went for a walk around our town, Manarola, at dawn. It immediately charmed me, with its colourful houses on the cliff-side, facing a vast green and turquoise sea.

I walked into a restaurant/bakery and bought a focaccia with tomato for breakfast, then I went to the small grocery next door and bought some fruit, cookies, and water in anticipation of our hike. I noticed that everything was more expensive here than in France. I don’t know if that was because these were small towns or because they were tourist hot spots or because Italy is just more expensive – maybe all three. All I knew was that I missed France; service in Italy was not as friendly or helpful. I was starting to form a theory that Italians were just more lazy, which was later confirmed by the state of their trains – poor¹, the hours of operation for our hostel and all the shops in town – few², and the extent to which they will go out of their way to help you – non-existent.

By 9:30 am, Vin Diesel and I were setting out on our hike to the next town, Corniglia. The distance was only 1.0 km, but it involved a lot of steep climbs, so it took over an hour. We spent a good 45 minutes in the town of Corniglia, which seemed more touristy than our own, before heading back. By the time we reached our town again, our friends had arrived from Monaco. We went out for lunch together in a great little trattoria in Manarola. Everything we ordered was more delicious than the last, and I devoured my own plate of trofie with sea bass with gusto.

(more…)

1. As compared to French trains, Italian trains were dumps. Clearly the Italians either do not care to maintain the quality of their assets or do not believe in investment in infrastructure to the same extent that the French do. [↩]
2. Our hostel was only open from 7am-10am and 4pm-12pm, the rest of the time, we cannot even go in. What kind of hostel doesn’t let you enter for most of the day? [↩]

This past weekend, I went on a mini-break with my parents. We visited a few provincial/national parks/conservation areas. We brought our dog, packed some food, and hiked some trails.

My parents stayed at my apartment in University Town for the weekend (because it was near the provincial parks), but my roommate had moved out of my apartment, so I had no furniture (except the furniture in my bedroom), no internet, and no TV. My parents slept on the floor on an air mattress. We made makeshift tables out of cardboard boxes, we listened to the radio, we drank wine out of plastic cups, and I cooked with a rice spatula because my roommate accidentally took my stir-fry spatula. It was ghetto living, but it was fun. My parents laughed more this weekend than I’ve seen them do in a long time. And when they drove away on Monday, I cried.

I’ve never been close to my parents. I think the last time I felt emotionally attached to them was when I was 11. When I was 12, I spent three months away from my parents and I didn’t miss them once. I have never cried out of homesickness. And yet, after a mere weekend together, my 21-year-old self bawled cried as I watched my parents drive away and I was left, literally, in an empty apartment.

I cried because I finally realized the importance of family. No matter what, my parents will always love me, put me first, care for me, worry about me. They would die for me, but more importantly, they live for me. They are utterly devoted to me whether I recognize it or not, whether I thank them for it or not. A few months ago, I resented them for being emotionally closed off. They never said things like “I’m proud of you” or “You did good,” and I resented them for making me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Be that as it may, there were a lot of things I never said to them either. “Thank you,” “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Perhaps my inability to open up emotionally is still “their fault,” perhaps I am very much the product of my upbringing, but all I could think was “I should have known better.” Knowing them, knowing myself, I should have known they were proud of me even if they never said it. I should have known they loved me even if they never told me.

I am so silly.

I was so focused on finding someone who cared about me, when I had two people who lived and breathed for me right beside me. Instead of embracing them, I was pushing them away and then desperately looking for a relationship (or friendship) to fill the gap.

I have so much growing up to do.
(more…)