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A Boat Trip The Italian Way

By Kaitlyn Davis

"Welcome to Cinque Terre," our driver said, with an Italian accent staining his English words. I stepped out of the car, mildly happy to be on land again. After the drive through mountain tunnels and around curving bends of road that fell off into olive and grape vined hills, anything was better than that car. Moments later, a little Italian man in a white brimmed hat and flip-flops walked up to us.

"Hello, American family, yes?" I nodded and my parents tried to speak, but the driver stepped over to the man. I heard some rapid fire Italian ... "ndvhaiufbhivhklcnvmio'ev" ... that's pretty much what it sounded like to me.

"Mr. Davis," our driver transfered back to English, "this is your captain for the day. He will drop you off here at 6 and I will be waiting to take you back to the hotel."

"Great, great," my Dad nodded and we followed the little Italian man down a path along the beach. My first thought was, woah boobs...did I mention that beaches in Italy are often times nude? No, well, now you know. My next thought was, where is our boat?

I'd been on catamarans in Hawaii, sailboats in the Caribbean and a small yacht in Australia. I searched the little pier we stood on, looking for our boat, but saw only small wooden motorboats. There were larger boats out in the distance, I figured we would sail on over.

"The boat, yes?" He said to us and held his hand out to help me step aboard.

"What?" I said, looking at my mom who also had a shocked expression on her face. The boat was small...very small. There was a motor, a little sitting area and a tiny storage area under the deck. No seats, no steering wheel, no sail and, dare I say it, no bathroom! My day of rest a relaxation aboard a ship on the Mediterranean was quickly fading before my eyes!

"kjshdvcuiher...boat...vkjhegiuvher," he gestured with his hand, five fingers pointed towards the boat and five reached out towards my own hand. With a big gulp, I held tight and made the little jump over the water to land on the small deck. He smiled, "yes, yes" and reach out towards my mother. She's not the most agile person, so my father held her on one side while the little Italian made held her on the other. Somehow she managed to plop down next to me on the boat. I could tell she wouldn't move very often while aboard, not like there was anywhere to go really. My father, quite the gentle giant at 6'3", stretched his long leg and used very little effort to get aboard.

The little Italian man, whose name was completely lost to me in the mumble of his words, clearly lived on the water. He scurried around us, balancing on the edge of his small ship, gesturing to us and smiling the whole time. None of us spoke a wink of Italian, but it was clear he was proud of his little boat.

"What?" I mouthed to my mother, who shushed me with a glance and watched our captain rev the engine, trying to understand his words. My mother can talk to anyone in the known universe, and usually talks too much. Many a time we have had to quiet her for chatting up a security guard while we watched him grow more suspicious of her antics. But, it seemed she had finally met her match.

"My english, not good." He took out a dictionary and gave it to me. "cjdh lhdmnv...questions...cihcohi" he spoke quickly while making wild hand gestures, but I understood. Look up words if I have any questions. He continued to speak in a flow of Italian, and my limited spanish made a few connections for me. There were five towns in Cinque Terre and we would be boating around them, stopping at the first town and anywhere else we liked. I was amazed that he could communicate so well with us by using such a sparse amount of English and filling in the blanks with hand gestures and speedy Italian.

We sailed farther from shore, and I watched the coast expand, barely listening to the gentle hum of Italian our captain was still spitting out. The Italian coast was more like cliffs that fell away into the water, cutting deep below the surface while waves slapped up against the rock. We sailed past, our little motor ticking away, and I sat right at the bow of the ship, letting my feet dangle a mere foot from the water. The sun was hot upon my skin, but water sprayed up to cool me every time we powered over a wave and landed with a smack back on the surface.

"Swim, yes?" Our little Italian man asked, and I replied with a "Grazie!" which was pretty much the only Italian I knew. I stripped off my tank top and skirt, but don't worry I still had on a bikini, and jumped into the water. And holy crap, it was cold! Why had no one warned me that the Mediterranean was cold as ice cubes!? My mother slowly climbed down the step ladder our captain had magically produced and my father followed suit. They had it right, adjusting to water instead of diving into to tiny pin pricks of cold.

I swam for a little, then looked back up to the boat, where our little Italian man made ready for his own dive in the sea. I sunk my mouth below the water to keep from dying of laughter when I saw that he had on a little speedo and nothing else. Our little man was proudly displacing his large belly full of hair and ultra tanned skin, and I was practically drowning with the humor of the sight. I had finally seen more of Italy than I had ever intended!

"Signorina! Signorina!" I recognized the word and spun in the water while a pair of goggles came flying at me. I laughed and swam over to where they had landed. I slid them over my head and looked down into the water. At first, all I saw was blue but gradually creatures swam into my view. I was nervous for second when I saw a jellyfish gently undulating below me, but realized it was far enough away the nothing would happen. I floated for a while until I heard my mother calling and saw both of my parents waving me over.

Climbing back onto the boat, I was struck by the most amazing smell ever. "Focaccia?" he asked me and handed me a piece of bread which I promptly stuffed into my mouth. The taste was overwhelming and I started to lick my fingers for more of the flavor, but the little man laughed and passed me a bag filled with the bread.

We passed by another of the five towns that was built on the cliffs, into the hillside, and I caught glimpses of people fishing, swimming, laughing. Families, teenagers and old couples; everyone was smiling and laughing. The lighthearted feel of the coast was seeping into me, and I couldn't help but smile along with everyone I had glimpsed in the small town.

I turned back to the boat, and watched my mother face her greatest battle yet, an Italian man with a limited supply of English.

"lcjdsj...ricetta de mi mama...oiqerhgoqe." I picked out the few words I could understand, because of their similarity to Spanish.

"Your mother?" My mom asked, and the captain nodded and made the gestures of someone cooking. "A recipe of your mother's?" He nodded, and even I was impressed with my mom's understanding. She was speaking in long spurts of English and he in long spurts of Italian but my father and I looked on as they laughed and joked together. I briefly wondered if they were even laughing at the same thing, but there was quite a bit of wine on the boat and I figured more laughter would ensue. What did it matter if they laughed for the same reason, just as long as they laughed?

I wanted to get off and explore one of the towns, so I picked up the dictionary and looked for a word I could use. "Sentiero?" I asked, the foreign words sounded unsure on my lips, but he smiled.

"Via dell'Amore?" he asked and pointed to a path that cut through the cliff sides above me. "Easy, yes?"

"Si, grazie," I said and smiled as he drove the small boat into a dock at the nearest town. I had read about the Lover's Walk, and was excited. It was the easiest walk and linked the first town with the second.

My father and I stepped off the boat, but my mother decided to stay and meet us at the second town where they would pick us up. My father and I walked up the steep incline of the main road, and I looked at the buildings that rose four stories above me. They seemed to move up with the land, growing with the cliff face, and were all of bright colors that popped in the sunlight. Clothes hung on lines that streamed across the little alleyways while kayaks and sunbathers lined the water's edge.

We entered on to the Via dell'Amore, paid the small fee and began the walk. It was easy, a few staircases but mostly flat ground. I looked down at teenagers and young couples who were sitting along the cliff. They climbed the rock faces and then jumped back down, landing in the water with a splash. I noticed our small boat in the water, and waved at my mother who lounged with a wine glass in her hand. Even from this distance, I could see her waving her hands, and could see our little Italian man waving in response, both communicating without language.

At the other end of the walk, my father and I shared a smile as we piled back onto the boat. The dock was filled with the all too familiar boisterous laugh of my mother...clearly, we had not been missed!

Our day was winding down to an end, but our captain took us to a place that my mother told us was his secret spot. I layed down in the sun, watching as my mother continued to speak with her hands. We came to a stop near a small rocky beach and our little Italian man tied the boat to a buoy. My parents refrained from swimming but I dove back into the cool water, already looking through the goggles I had yet to return.

I swam for the shore, seeing the rock face that shimmered with water droplets and practically called my name. With a few strong strokes, I reached the rock and pulled myself on top of it, imagining the dramatic scene from the Little Mermaid. I was this close to bursting out into song and belting out 'Part of Your World', the refrain version of course, but my fantasy was ruined when I opened my eyes and nearly screamed! I fell off the rock with a splash and held my hands over my mouth in shock. I slowly climbed back up the rock face and peered over the edge, looking at the rocky shore which I had previously assumed to be vacant.

Yup, naked man!

I closed my eyes again, and opened them. Third times a charm...but apparently not, the man was still there, flying his flag for the world to see. I turned, placed my back on the hot rock and giggled myself silly. So much for my plan of going onto the shore, I was not going to mess with a naked man who probably didn't speak English! No way!

When I could finally breath again, I swam back to our boat.

"cjhfoih..the man, yes?" Our little captain asked and I laughed.

"Si!" I saw him alright.

"What man?" My mother asked.

"Nothing," I laughed and lied back down. It was the perfect end to a perfect adventure, I presumed, and felt a little twinge of gloom as our boat docked. Our saw our driver approach, and my family prepared to leave. I gave my little Italian man a hug, and he kissed both my cheeks then turned to say goodbye to my parents. I took out my camera and snapped a picture of the small boat and the man who captained it.

"Arrivederci!" I yelled behind me, before stepping into the car.

"Ciao!" he called as he turned back to his little boat that rolled calmly, waiting for him in the waves.