Baba no, it’s Babá- Part 2

We woke to a lavish breakfast at our hotel in Rome, and it was exactly what we needed before a long day of travel.

To this day, I don't know if it's because Europe has different farming practices or if everything is simply fresher, but I still remember the milk. It tasted so rich and fresh that I joked it must have come straight from the cow that very morning.

The breakfast buffet was overflowing with pastries, fresh fruit, eggs, yogurt, granola, bacon, sausage, waffles, muffins...and yes, even mimosas.

My eyes feasted before my stomach did.

We made sure to eat well, knowing we probably wouldn't sit down for another proper meal until dinner.

After breakfast, we took the hotel shuttle back into Rome and began our trek to the train station. We'd left the bulk of our luggage at the hotel since we'd be returning to Rome after a few days in Sorrento, but even our smaller bags felt heavy in the summer heat.

What looked like a short walk on the map turned into quite an adventure.

The train station seemed to move farther away with every hill we climbed.

My grandmother, who was seventy-six at the time, summed it up perfectly.

"Loma arriba, loma abajo, mi rodilla pa'l carajo."

There's really no graceful way to translate it into English, but the sentiment is something like, "Up one hill, down the next...and my knee goes to hell."

To this day, we still laugh every time someone mentions walking uphill.

Our plan was simple enough: take the train from Rome to Naples, then transfer to another train bound for Sorrento.

Unfortunately, our first train was delayed.

So we waited.

And waited some more.

The hours drifted by as travelers came and went. I found a bench and settled into one of my favorite pastimes whenever I travel—people watching.

There's something fascinating about observing another culture. The way people dress. The expressions on their faces. Their conversations, even when you can't understand every word. Every culture has its own rhythm, and for a little while I simply sat back and watched Italy unfold around me.

Finally, our train arrived.

A sea of passengers rushed toward the doors, and before long we were on board.

The ride from Rome to Naples took about two hours, but it was beautiful. Through the window we watched the countryside roll by—stone villas nestled among green hills, hay bales scattered across open fields, wildflowers swaying in the breeze, and impossibly blue skies stretching for miles.

It was so peaceful that somewhere along the way, I fell asleep.

Naples, however, was another story.

The station felt tense.

Maybe it was simply because we were strangers in an unfamiliar place, but everyone seemed hurried, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we stood out. It was an uneasy stop, though thankfully a brief one.

The train to Sorrento couldn't have been more different from the one we'd just left.

Gone were the comfortable seats, panoramic windows, and air conditioning.

This train rattled and creaked as though it had been running since the days of the Roman Empire.

There wasn't a single seat available.

The three of us stood the entire ride, one hand gripping our luggage and the other holding onto anything we could find to keep our balance as the train lurched around every curve.

By now the sun was beginning to set, and we were exhausted.

We didn't want another adventure.

We just wanted to reach our hotel.

Finally, we arrived in Sorrento, hailed a taxi, and headed toward what we hoped would be a charming little hotel overlooking the sea.

My mom and I had spent weeks researching hotels before the trip. We compared reviews, looked through countless photos, and finally settled on a quaint little place that seemed to check every box. The reviews were overwhelmingly positive, the price was reasonable, and the views looked spectacular.

We couldn't wait to see it.

From the outside, it was beautiful.

The lobby was stylish.

The staff welcomed us warmly and showed us to our room.

Then they opened the door.

It was...tiny.

Not charming tiny.

Tiny tiny.

There were only two narrow beds, even though we'd reserved a room for three people.

Then we noticed a sideways Murphy bed tucked into the corner.

I pulled it down and sat on it.

The sheets were damp.

Not exactly the warm welcome we'd imagined.

Then I walked into the bathroom.

The shower was unlike anything I'd ever seen. It looked less like a shower and more like a standing coffin with a glass door. I honestly wasn't convinced I was going to fit inside.

After the day we'd had, though, we simply didn't have the energy to complain or search for another hotel. We were only staying for two nights, and trying to find another room in a foreign country felt like more than we could handle.

So we unpacked just enough to freshen up and decided food might improve our outlook.

The front desk recommended a restaurant around the marina called Il Bagni di Delfino, so we set off on foot.

By then we were tired, hungry, disappointed with our accommodations, and feeling as though we'd spent an entire day traveling what should have only taken a few hours.

When we arrived, a chalkboard outside listed the day's specials.

One item immediately caught our attention.

A large beer for three euros.

Now that sounded like a bargain.

Our waitress was petite, with a short haircut and an infectious sense of humor. She seated us, took our order, and without hesitation all three of us requested the giant beer.

A few minutes later she returned carrying what can only be described as a bucket of beer.

They weren't kidding.

It was enormous.

I don't even like beer, but it was ice cold, I was incredibly thirsty, and after the day we'd had, it tasted surprisingly wonderful.

Thirty minutes later, I still hadn't finished mine.

Our waitress walked by, smiled mischievously, and said,

"You ordered it...now you have to drink it."

Challenge accepted.

Somehow, the three of us managed to finish every last drop.

The walk back to the hotel?

Honestly...it's a blur.

In fact, the rest of the evening is a blur.

The only thing I clearly remember is waking up the next morning still wearing the same clothes I'd had on the night before.

Despite everything that had gone wrong the day before, I woke up feeling hopeful.

Sometimes all you need is a good night's sleep.

And somehow, I knew the day ahead was going to be different.

To be continued...