Once more, I regret to inform those readers tuned in for a good old-fashioned Jane-style uber-rant that they will be disappointed. I am in a prodigiously fine mood and can't see it changing in the course of creating this post.
A few years ago, I spent three weeks wandering around Italy armed with a backpack and a distressingly short and annoying school companion. I'm not entirely sure what she was doing there, how she came to accompany me, but I do know that ever since this hellish experience I refused to ever travel with anyone again. I was suddenly responsible not only for myself but for an apparently wholly incompetent defenceless little girl, who accepted the advances of amorous elderly Italians with open arms. My sojourn in beautiful Italy suddenly combined the intended role of impressionable young tourist with those of protector, translator and picker-up-of-pieces. One heavenly day I finally had a break when I escaped to the island of Capri. I sat in the bow of a wooden rowing boat, armed with an Australian, a large quantity of grapes and a carafe of wine, and was rowed slowly and steadily towards the Grotta Azzurra. You enter the grotto from the sea via a low archway, that leads you into what is frankly the most beautiful place I have ever encountered to date. Our boatman was a particularly good sport, as he rowed us to the shadows towards the back of the grotto and - when there was a gap in the influx of other tourists - signalled for us to dive in. Everything turns to silver as soon as it touches the water, and there was I, fully-clothed, in paradise.
There is a point to my sauntering down memory lane. I've been fixated on the idea of returning ever since, and finally could have an opportunity on my birthday this year. Hopefully this time I'll get to actually stay on the island, a few days of escapism in the middle of dissertation production. If anybody has any great ideas on how I can actually live there for eternity, please inform me in the immediate future. I'll be sure to make it worth your while...
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