THe glory of a story
Thoughts and threads of passion and experience that have woven the fabric I call my life. Sharing experiences, memories and ideas so that they are out in the world for you to find when the time is right.
THe glory of a story
We decided that as it was our last day at Maratea, we should head down to the beach.
It was an amazing hot day, and the wind was gone. We headed down a little after 10, and this time got off at the first beach, know as Black Beach...as the sand is completely black from the volcanic ash/stones that make up this part of the Tyrannean Sea.
Just as we were getting down to the beach, a young lady who had followed us down started talking to us in excellent English. Her name is Patrizia, from Rome, who is staying at an apartment at the resort that her dad owns. She was a wonderful conversationalist, and very helpful in understanding things about the language and culture we are uncertain of. We had hoped to meet up with her again to give her our card, as she had some wonderful ideas for language learning for our retreat, but sadly it was not to be! A beautiful lady!
We ventured into the sea, Cecil as always braver than me. As I got out to my hips, a big wave came in and swept me off my feet, rolling me around in the salty water. I panicked, thinking only of my glasses after my adventure at Lake of the Woods in June, and in grabbing and holding on to them, I could not get my footing before another, then another wave came and rolled me around. Cecil almost drowned out where he was, as he was laughing so hard, watching my butt end and legs rise up then disappear again in the graceful manner to which we are accustomed to seeing me! After the 3rd roll around in the water, I got to my feet and decided that maybe it was better to stay out. It later occured to me that I could have taken my glasses off and left them on the beach with my new 'Maratea' towel....next time. Some days I am just a little slower!
We went back and laid in the sun until early afternoon, then headed to catch the last bus back up before they shut down for the siesta. At our apartment I took a much needed shower to wash off the sand and leaves that were pasted all over me. I had stones dropping out of places no stone should hide, and realized how the water had truly rolled me around on the beach. We still laugh each time we think of it, as I'm sure the other vacationers watching do...I do leave an impression!
When we finally headed down for supper, 'Peter' the waiter/manager who has been so amazing all week served us for our last meal there. We have always found him to be wonderful at explaining dishes, customs and words, and have been very luck to have had him here for the duration of our stay. Later, we headed down to the stage to take in the entertainment provided, which we'd missed out on all week. It started with the kids being led in dance routines, as we'd seen earlier in the week. After that the young people that lead the afternoon dance classes performed a series of skits and songs for about an hour and a half. They must have been very funny...not understanding the language, we missed out on the storyline and the humor, but the crowd around us was laughing, and many of the children were doubled over..so I think much of the humour was directed to them! We returned to our room and called it a night about midnight, knowing that today will be a long day of travel heading on to Otranto...but excited for the next leg of our jouney!
Two thirds of the way back down from the top of the Dixience Dam, we came across Chapel Saint Jean. The small stone chapel was built in 1930 by workers during the first stage of construction of the dam. It was built to accommodate the deeply faithful Italian workers who dedicated years of their lives on construction of the dam.
The chapel was small but beautiful with detailed craftsmanship inside and out. The benches inside would only accommodate a very few men at any given time, but in sitting in the quiet of the tiny sanctuary, one could gather a sense of the peace that those who sat in prayer must have embraced.
Where are the places that you go to find that same sense of peace in your life? Is it in the sanctuary of a church? In the quiet of the space you where you meditate? Or is it walking in nature? For me, its either overlooking the view I have of the Assiniboine Valley here at home, or being close to a body of water. But on that day, peace found me in the mountains of Switzerland, and the quiet of that little church.
We continued our journey down the mountain, and continued the adventure of exploration, grateful for all the magic we've been allowed to experience!
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