Big Trip Blog 6

Sunday was warm and sunny, and the air was cool at the same time. How does that happen? We took ourselves off to the sea because Sunday seemed to be the day to do that, along with hundreds of other Chiavarians. Dogs, kids, bikes, rollerblades, teepees on the beach (rocky, but a beach by any other name…), and coffee shops are all full of activity. The sea is about 1/2 mile from where we currently stay, and the walk winds under the train tunnel or an overpass along another route. Above the tracks, one can view a very large garden area below, perhaps 1/2-3/4 acre. Orange trees sparkle with such bright gems and the ground is littered with fallen oranges. We wonder if the local ones aren’t good – or if, because they are local, one ignores everyday treasures. So far we’ve not found one we could test. But our citrus fruits from the vendor downstairs are fabulous and desert-worthy, and we don’t actually know if they are local or from farms nearby. So juicy good, a real treat.

I got a moment to sit on some rocks as the tide was coming in and was given the best meditation ever, just listening to the sounds that moved along the beach. Up close, there was a little rock hole, and water entered its hollow spot first, and gurgled then went ‘sploosh,’ as the trapped seawater had nowhere to go but up. Two seconds later, the incoming wave moved to within a few feet, a small splash of wave that kept trying to get closer over the time I was there, and then, I heard the same incoming whoosh that landed to my right a couple of seconds later. Finally, after a 4-5 seconds lull, the beach down the way also resounded. The rhythm had such a hypnotic effect when my eyes closed, and I could just be. Just be. And listen.

Strewn about were larger boulders. They seemed parental to the chips of rocks lying about, whose patterns were identical. Chips off the old block, one might say. (sorry, not sorry) Striated, but differently on adjacent stones – many types of rock life made us think of the earth’s forces that created what is about us today. If only one could speak rock, one could decipher so much of their experience. I wished I had taken even one geology class. I had to satisfy myself by gathering two tiny examples that made me think, “What caused this type ?” What all have they been through, if only they could speak what have they endures? Stony Beach Philosophy.

Chiavari is getting expensive, and although I would love to be the person who could have a place here, I fear it is beyond my means in this lifetime. I love the combination of a real town with a seafront, historic buildings, and a sense of community I could be a part of. However, we are beyond blessed to get to spend an hour having a cappuccino after a long, invigorating walk to some local place – and we are checking them all out, with most being chosen by the rule of “we’ve not been there, so let’s do.”

The kids are primarily clean-cut, with a few trying hard to look bad with a cigarette hanging out. But, mostly, few tattoos, few ripped jeans, fewer still are the pants worn below the butt. When they leave school for lunch, they head off toward the town-central in a clump, like kids everywhere, mainly chewing on pieces of focaccia, talking and ogling each other, like people everywhere. Pretty kids, much tended to and loved, it looks like. Since the birth rate is so low, everyone is worried, and children are much admired. We think that tending looks different than at home. The local park has challenging climbing equipment in trees, and the beach has kids climbing on rocks and being somewhat ignored while they explore. Babies not so much, they seem to be handled by grandparents during the workweek, but older ones have lots of family involvement, somewhat engaged and verbal.

Flowers are beginning to bloom, too, so we are watching the landscape change into spring around us, day by day. Many businesses do not fully open until spring mid –February – as there are few visitors for whom to keep things open. We’ve heard little English, but people usually speak to us first in Italian, then catch on by our panicked looks as we try to squeeze out some terrible Italian in return. Its delicious to try each day to speak a few more words.