On a day trip from Milano to Manarola this summer, I saw the Mediterranean for the first time. The whole thing was an adventure, barely figuring out the train, bringing a pack of wandering Americans to a tiny seaside cliff town. But it was magical. The sea was amazing. Stunning and a welcome sight after not seeing a distant horizon for a number of weeks. I love the horizon. I've said that. It connects me to infinity and eternity and things that are bigger and more vast than I can fathom. I need that in my life. While I was there, I decided to jump off a cliff. It was at least 25 feet up. It was terrifying. This is the picture to prove it, but I'll just say it took me about 15 minutes of standing on top of the rock and seeing other people not die to convince me. The whole crowd of onlookers (on the side of the picture taker) were chanting my name by the end of my experience. I just couldn't jump. I was so afraid I'd do it wrong and die. But I wanted to know what it was like. I wanted to be part of the adventure. I wanted to be and feel brave. In the end, I couldn't look. I couldn't think about it anymore. I couldn't analyze. I just had to jump. I'll never do it again. But I'm glad I did. |
| The rock formation in the center is where we jumped from. The water come in from the right to the other side and the jumping picture was taken from the walkway below where the buildings are. |
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