Wish You Were Beautiful

Jimmy Buffett sings that "Salt air, it ain't thin / It can stick right to your skin / And make you feel fine". Right now I am lying "beside the sea there", and he's correct about the salt air. He should have maybe extended it to salt water, though - I'm pretty sure I'm never going to get it out of my hair. MR and I have spent quite a bit of time in the swimming area off of Positano today and could probably fill a salt shaker with the salt that's stuck to our hair and skin. I can feel my cuts healing already.

A la mode of the other beachgoers, MR and I hung our cover-ups from the tops of our beach chairs and can look up to watch them wave around in wind that seems never to reach us. It is at least several million degrees* down here on almost-ground level** and I am watching my dress in envy.

Meanwhile I'm trying to keep from watching the fat old men in Speedos. Why would they think that Speedos are the way to go? Seriously, did someone play a cruel joke on them or are they playing a cruel joke on us? And why are all the children at this beach naked? I feel like Coppertone and Richard Simmons decided to have photoshoots at the same location and forgot to coordinate (Simmons' would be the "before" shoot, obviously).

It is nice to have a relaxing day at the beach after yesterday's 10 hours of travel, during which MR and I hauled around all our clothes etc for the month in Italy as well as the souvenirs (okay, wine) we're taking home. Though we had a relatively uneventful trip, we were both exhausted by the time we reached the Hotel del Corso and barely managed to reach a nearby restaurant - the Don Vincenzo - for supper before falling asleep. When we return to Sorrento this evening we plan to explore a little more, and this evening we will sit out on the terrace of our hotel with a bottle of wine. I've been looking for a tin cup for a chalice and for honeysuckle, but neither seem to be native to Italy, so I will resort to living in the spirit of Jimmy Buffett if not in the actual style.

I feel I should reflect on our ride here - we took the SITA bus, which was more terrifying than the time I rode with my family and the Clarksons and George Washington*** through the mountains of Jamaica (probably because I am now old enough to understand the difference between fear and fun). However, though today is a restful day, it does not seem to be a very reflective one for me - concerning the ride or life or even food (sorry, Justin). Perhaps it is because I am tired from all the travel or finding it difficult to pontificate on my teensy BlackBerry keyboard or just in a vapid mood; whatever the reason, I cannot seem to muster up the will to do much more than make sure all of my vampire-white skin stays under the umbrella and lift my finger to switxh between country, oldies, and Jimmy Buffett on my IPod****. To be fair, I have done two productive things today: swimming and beating off the man selling miniature beach chairs. I mean, seriously, I know I'm short, but I really don't want to spend my gelato money on miniature beach chairs. Even if I were really really rich I wouldn't want to buy miniature beach chairs. It's like inviting mice to drink beer and build bonfires on your mantel.

In conclusion, I would like to note that "The skies are too clear / Life's too easy today". I haven't had any beer (surprise!) and haven't found any daquiries, but if I had I'd bet they'd respectively be too cold and too fruitiful. After all, no matter how bubbly the Bellinis or how cold the gelato, "There's no place like home when you're this far away".

*Farenheight, not Celsius
**Hence the amount of time spent on the salt water
***Our driver, who liked to say his name to Americans a lot
****The IPink has been appropriately left at the hotel.