So here C + I are in the renowned Italian “city” of Tronca. Journey’s been hectic, but we’ve arrived in one piece. AirBnB is nothing special, it’s clean, spacious, and the internet works as advertised. Chalk that one up in the win column.
AirBnB host is quite responsive via What’s App, and recommends us a restaurant a few blocks away. Also mentions that he’ll call in ahead and inform them that we are coming, which is a little strange. But we’re famished from the journey, and I’m ready to try my first Italian pizza after the whole hamburger mishap this morning (which seems like a lifetime ago).
Step out our front door near sunset and take in our surroundings properly. To our right, a hundred feet out, is the highway we came in on, followed by a slow gentle incline of rolling, grassy hills. Long stretches of clouds, illuminated a cotton candy pink by the suns remaining rays, drift lazily across a still bright-blue sky. Plus, a bunch of electrical towers, phone poles, and wires, beautiful stuff really.
In front of us, there’s a chain fence separating us from tall grass and a bunch of stubborn little shrubs / trees that look like they came off the set of Gladiator. Maybe olive trees if I had to hazard a guess, but most likely some sort of random flora that’s been struggling to survive neglected in nature for decades. We also get a decent view of the buildings beyond, which are cookie cutter apartment blocks, each with the exact same color palette applied, white paint with a rustic red roofing.
To our left is the main, double lane roadway that runs through the town, and just a few steps past that, the soft, sandy beach (well, mostly soft and sandy, complemented by patches of small rocks just big enough to hurt your feet if you step on one just the right way) against the deep blue of the Ionian sea.
Don’t worry, no more lengthy environmental descriptions, because that pretty much describes the entire area we’ll be in for the next four days.
We rip over to the restaurant, about a five minute walk, and roll in like we own the place. Turns out, we sort of do own the place; there are zero other customers in the entire restaurant.The four or five staff on hand look a little confused about us popping in, and speak little to no English, but we managed to gesture our way to an outdoor table on the beachside.
The sea looks glorious in the sun’s dying rays, but as the sun goes, the sand flies emerge. For some fuckin’ reason, mosquitoes and flies just love me; I’m pretty sure I get bitten about forty times over dinner, while C escapes completely unscathed.
Pizza and a seaside beerski is on the menu, and maybe my expectations are a bit high, because the pizza is decidedly average. The crust is light and fluffy where it’s cooked properly, but it’s burnt in a half dozen places, and the toppings don’t seem particularly fresh. Maybe that’s why the restaurant is empty. But hey, company is good, and the view is nice.
It’s dark by the time we wrap up, and I’m too lazy to complain about the 2.50 extra we’re charged for “outdoor gazebo” seating. I will bitch about it to you though; the audacity of these motherfuckers. Literally zero customers also looking to sit outside, get the fuck outta here. Sorry your waiter had to walk an extra six steps. Might as well charge me per sandfly bite while you’re at it.
But to be honest, I’m just happy to be here. I’m excited for the wedding, and ecstatic that C finally decided to come last minute even if she may be partiallllllly to blame for our botched travel plans. We enjoy the stroll back to our place and get cozy for the night.
Wake up the next morning and lazily start planning our day. We decide to get errands out of the way first, and hit the beach afterwards. Almost like we’re responsible adults.
We kick off with a short stroll down the town road, looking to pick up some groceries. C loves my cooking, and it’s a lot more fun cooking for two than it is for one. Google maps has a bunch of local markets a block or two away, but each and every single one of them is shuttered up. Windows are dusty, and it looks like they’ve been closed for years.
Tronca is starting to look suspiciously like a ghost town. We haven’t seen a single person so far other than the restaurant staff and the guy who dropped us off; it’s more than a little bit unnerving. Reminiscent of Leo and his wife’s dream world in Inception, where they have an entire world all to themselves.
We hear the crunch of rubber on dirt and gravel, and step off the road out of the way, but the silver truck pulls up to a stop right next to us, and a large man rolls the window down.
His English isn’t great, but we manage to explain to him that we are trying to find a grocery store or a restaurant. He tells us that there’s only one in town right now, and that most of the village is empty until beach season starts and on weekends. Offers to give us a lift to the only open grocery store a kilometer or two down the road. Two hitch hikes in two days seems a little risky, but the man seems friendly enough and we hop in without much reservation.
We’re dropped off without issues, grab our stuff, and make the trek back to our place. After throwing some lunch together (I kick us off with a greek salad and some carbonara), we grab our towels, and hit the beach.
What a beach it is. Maybe it’s not the pearly white soft sand of Tulum, when you find the right spot, the grains are fine enough that you don’t really notice the difference. C’s rocking a turquoise bikini that looks pretty great on her, we have a couple of Corona’s in play, and to top it all off, there’s not a single soul within sight. Beach is entirely ours.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that first day. Just two people smiling and rekindling, stresses of the day before and the past years evaporating as we bask in the sun and each other’s presence. A hot day but not unbearably so, relaxing in the sand together, taking short dips in the cleansing salt water whenever we feel like cooling down a bit. Some conversation, some chess, and a deep sense of peace and calm that I haven’t felt in years. I think I needed this one; might have just been a perfect day.
It’s still not a total vacation. I do end up putting in a few hours of streaming. But all responsibilities are tasks, that, for the most part, I enjoy. I work the hours I feel like working, cooking for someone I care about never been a chore, and it’s just excellent company in a zero stress environment.
This routine carries us through the entire week. Stroll to the grocery store, marvel at all the options available, pick out whatever we feel like eating that night (although for lemons, we were having fun just picking them off the bountiful lemon trees kicking around literally everywhere), whip up some lunch, hit the beach, munch some dinner, hang out, and stream.
I did propose a little hike up the big hill across the highway, but we ended up opting to stick to a lazy, peaceful routine. Not like it would have been an incredible view anyways. I’m sure eventually the routine and lack of other people to interact with could get boring, but for a lad raised in Calgary, beaches and the sea are something I haven’t seen nearly enough of, and with C, it really feels like sometimes happiness isn’t that hard to find; you just have to take a few risks, be open to new friendships, and actively seek it out.
Brando's Rambles 