My favorite thing about solo travel is how frequently and intimately I can communicate with God as I detach from the busyness of countless tedious tasks and frantic juggling of ministry responsibilities. Being able to just rest in His presence as I explore and marvel at this amazing world He’s created is a welcome and much-needed physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual break.
I didn’t expect the Levanto/Cinque Terre leg of my trip last summer to start out as stressfully as it did. Now, looking back, I know that it was all part of the lesson He was teaching me throughout that season’s journey.
When I started planning the trip, I had wanted to push myself to do something physically out of my comfort zone, so I decided to take a hike – literally. I’d read about this beautiful series of 5 coastal towns in the Liguria region, on the Italian Riviera, and instantly fell in love with the idea of traversing the picturesque hiking trails.
I caught the train from Santa Maria Novella station in Florence to Sarzana, where I was supposed to take a connecting train to Levanto (a town just outside of the Cinque Terre), where I’d booked a hostel.
My bad knee was throbbing painfully, and I was still nursing a few healing blisters on my feet (all the walking had started to take its toll). I had been training for the hike but I wasn’t counting on being injured, so I was a little worried about the next day’s trek. I walked into a half-empty carriage, gratefully set my heavy backpack on the overhead rack and immediately sank into my seat.
I spent some time writing in my journal with my headphones on, occasionally looking out the window to enjoy the unique little towns that we occasionally stopped at as we left the city far behind.
Excerpt from my travel journal, dated August 11th, 2016:
The train went through Carrara, and I gawked at the enormous blocks of their famous marble, still raw from the quarries, ready to be processed and exported all over the world. The marble from these quarries has been used in grand buildings and important works of art since Ancient Roman times, and is renowned for its beauty, quality, and variety.
I was so lost in my daydreams that I failed to notice that by then the carriage was deserted. Suddenly, I sensed that something was wrong.
Excerpt from my travel journal (from later that evening):
A rough-looking young couple with small backpacks entered the carriage. They went back and forth along the length of the carriage, appearing to be searching for appropriate seats, even though there were plenty to choose from. That was when I pulled off my headphones, stuffed my things in my day pack, and tried to survey my surroundings as calmly and quickly as I could.
I was alone with them.
They finally stopped at the seat right behind me, blocking the nearest exit. The girl sat down, and the young man stood in the aisle. I trusted my instincts, jumped up, grabbed my backpack from the overhead rack, and dashed to the other end of the carriage. I realized that there was no entrance into the next carriage without exiting, so I threw my bags into the corner seat, freeing up my hands (just in case) and calmly gazed at them from the end of the aisle.
They probably decided I wasn’t worth it. Maybe they were just petty thieves looking for an easy target (or maybe they were just innocent locals thinking they were about to be attacked by a crazy Asian lady), because they went off into the adjacent car. Whew! Thank God! That was a relief, and a great reminder to stay alert and always keep my wits about me.
I was so frazzled from the encounter that I missed my next train in Sarzana (it would have gone straight to Levanto) and I had to find an alternate route. Guided by my trusty Rail Planner app, I took a train headed for La Spezia Centrale, got off one station too early, had to take another train back to LSC, then finally yet another train to Levanto.
Still pretty shaken, I took a 10-euro taxi ride from the station to Ospitalia del Mare. The hostel turned out to be a repurposed old hospital just a couple hundred steps from the shore, which I thought was pretty cool.
There were two French girls in the room when I checked in. I tried to be friendly with them but they didn’t speak much English. I had to lie down for a while after my ordeal.
About an hour later, two more girls came in: Ann, who was born in San Diego, living in San Francisco, and was of Vietnamese heritage; and Irene, who is Italian and was also living in San Francisco.
I instantly liked them both. We all spent some time on the beach, just enjoying the slowly setting sun, the warm, pebbly beach, and the sound of the crashing waves. We made plans to hike the trail from Monterosso (the first of the five Cinque Terre towns) together the next day.
When it got too cold, we walked back to the hostel. Irene had to work remotely from her laptop so Ann and I went to have dinner at Enoteca La Vineria. Their seafood was delicious! We had this creamy, cheesy dish with prawns and mixed fried fish with local wine.
I had a deep conversation with Ann about life, faith, and relationships. The brevity of friendships formed while traveling somehow helps you to skip over the superficial and get right to the good stuff. I enjoyed getting to know a fascinating human being, who I’d never have known if God hadn’t inspired me to do something new.
For dessert we had gelato at the gelateria next door (I had the Crema di Levanto with Nutella). While enjoying our treat, we strolled around the town. It was a nice, sleepy little place, with mostly local Italian tourists. Lots of older couples, perhaps rekindling the fires of their aging romance, ambled hand-in-hand along the beach under the clear, starry sky.
As we looked out at the half-moon’s reflection shimmering on the water, I thought back to not even a week ago when I looked up at the same moon from the back of a scooter.
Ann (also an introvert) stood silently beside me for a few minutes as we leaned against the wooden railing of the boardwalk. Once again I was overwhelmed by God’s goodness. I thanked Him for protection, and for new experiences and new friends.
A quote from William G.T. Shedd goes “A ship in harbor is safe — but that is not what ships are built for.”
The sea, black in the darkness and infinitely twinkling with the reflection of the sky above, reminded me of the vastness of God’s unfailing love, the kind of love that accepts me just as I am, but also tests, challenges, hones, and slowly changes me so that I can love others better than I could ever do on my own.
