What's my problem? It's ten past seven in the morning and I'm awake.
October 25, 2005 - It was a warm fall day. Michael Jackson (yes, that was actually his name) and I broke off from Lianne so that Michael Jackson could check out of his hostel and drop his gear at my guest house in Riomaggiore, as my room mate, Diane had left earlier that day. We had plans to meet back up with Lianne in Corniglia, the middle of the five towns that make up Cinque Terre in Italy, after she went back to Monterosso to take pictures at three o'clock.
Two days before I had a brief conversation with Michael Jackson (I have to use his full name, because to this day, it amuses me that his name was actually Michael Jackson) as we got off the train in La Spezia. We parted ways thinking that we'd never run into each other again, even though we were both going to be visiting Cinque Terre over the next few days.
Outside the train station, I met Diane, a middle aged cop from northwestern Australia. We were staying at the same inconveniently located hostel in La Spezia and opted out of waiting an hour for the shuttle and shared a cab. We then, again, opted out of waiting an hour and a half for the shuttle to take us to Cinque Terre, and instead hiked for an hour along a long and winding road to get to the terminal town of Riomaggiore.
That night, as we checked out the town, we bumped into Lianne, a girl that Diane had met on the train. Lianne told us about an old woman who had helped her find a guest house in town. After Diane and I realized how big of a pain in the ass our hostel was, we knew that we needed to move into Cinque Terre. So, we arranged to meet Lianne the next day so that she could introduce us to the man who owned the guest house where she was staying.
When I say guest house, it was more like a villa. It was way up in the mountains, about a ten minute hike down into town, but it looked down over town and over the ocean. In the trellis that shaded the walkways around the villa hung grapes and lemons. The owner made "unh" sounds, as his English was elementary at best, eyebrow and hand motions indicating to us that we were free to pick the lemons and grapes.
We were incredibly lucky that he had a room for Diane and I. We had a room that was around the corner from Lianne and, although it faced away from the ocean and was kind of dark, it was comfortable, convenient, had a kitchen, and did I mention free lemons and grapes?
After dropping our gear, the three of us hiked back down the mountain to the head of the trail, where we bought our tourist passes to walk the trails connecting the five towns of Cinque Terre and to take the trains that connected the towns as well.
It was there that I ran into Michael Jackson again. Michael Jackson is kind of a quiet guy. He was a guy of twenty five years, but he had salt and pepper hair and sideburns that were just short of mutton chops. To be honest, he looked a little lost. Like me, it was his first time as a solo traveler. Whereas I had been on the trail for three weeks already, he had only been on the trail for a few days, and his trip was to last only two weeks.
As strange as this sounds, if you seem like a nice enough person, I'll always ask you to join whatever I'm doing when I'm traveling. So, naturally, I asked Michael Jackson to join Diane, Lianne and I (who knows, maybe Tito or Germaine would show up too... seriously... great name).
The first part of that day, we got to know each other as we made the easy stroll (I wouldn't even call it a hike) from Riomaggiore to Manarola. Once we made it to Manarola, we decided to take the train to the last town, Monterosso, where we got some gelato and checked out the beaches.
It wasn't until we decided to do the hike from Monterosso to Vernazza that we all realized that our lives were in flux.
The hike from Monterosso to Vernazza is not a short or easy one. It was just after lunch time when we started and we didn't get to Vernazza until a half hour before sunset. The long hard hike gave us all time to really expand on our stories.
Michael Jackson was just coming off of a tumultuous relationship with an older woman, unhappiness in his job and a host of other things. Diane, who had always wanted to be an actress, was trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her career in law enforcement, as she wasn't happy seeing the effects of the pedophiles that she had put away. Lianne was on her way from South Africa to the UK to start a new job.
Me, well, I was a wreck at the time. Even though I had just started to cook professionally on nights and weekends, I was thoroughly unhappy. I hated my day job. I hated the people at my day job. Furthermore, my heart had been smashed to smithereens by Stephanie, who at that time I harbored immense amounts of ill feelings for. I harbored so much hate for that girl that whenever I would think about her, my chest would seize up and I would find it hard to breathe.
The next day was when Michael Jackson and I peeled off with the intent of meeting Lianne at three, but we were running late. When we got off the train in Corniglia, there was a long steep stairway running up into the town. Corniglia was the one town that we hadn't been to.
Earlier that day, Diane had taken a train up to Lake Como. Lianne and I had plans to meet her there the next day, whereas Michael Jackson had to make his way to Rome.
It was on this stairway up to the city that I saw a man carving rocks from the sea for necklaces.
Since we were late, we didn't really have much time to stop and admire the work. Aside from a five second stop, we sprinted up the stairs and wildly ran around the town looking for Lianne. When we couldn't find her, we headed back down to the stairway at the train station.
Michael Jackson and I walked halfway back down the stairs, where the man was carving the rocks. Most of his necklaces were very Christian. There were crosses and such, but one caught my eye. It was a small round rock that he carved into a small fish. I liked it instantly. But, as I stood there hemming and hawing, Lianne showed up at the top of the stairs.
"Hey!" she said with a smile on her face. "Where the hell have you guys been? It's been an hour!"
We explained the reasons why we were late and decided it was time to go back to Vernazza for some more bruschetta and beer.
I was about to walk away from the necklace, but Lianne convinced me to buy it. The man put it on a cord with the perfect length and even attached a clasp to the back so that I could take it on and off if I wanted to.
Once the guy put it on me, I instantly knew that it was a good purchase. I loved it. I even named the fish Cornelius in reference to the town Corniglia.
Little did I know that right then and there my life was changing. I had no idea that the people that I had met in Cinque Terre would help me let go and move on from what had happened with Stephanie. I had no idea that they would help me decide to try to quit my day job to cook for a living. My time in Cinque Terre was a special time and place for me, and Cornelius has become a symbol and a reminder for me of when my life really started to change, when I started to find my smile again.
Even though I had the clasp, I never once took off Cornelius in the six years that I have had him. Sometimes, without even realizing it, I'll reach up to my neck and will rub the stone between my thumb and index finger as I daydream about my travels.
I have two pieces of jewelery. One is a ring that I have had since college, that I only take off when I'm doing dough work. The other is Cornelius.
Me, Michael Jackson, Lianne and Diane
Now, I told you that story to tell you this one.
There's a line cook at work, Juan, who is gay. Yeah. Whatever. He laughs and jokes with everyone, but he has taken to poking me in the side and sometimes pulling on my ears. I have taken it all in stride, with a good sense of humor. I am the new guy, so I try my best to have a good sense of humor about everything. A couple of times he has gotten annoying, but never really too bad.
Yesterday, he started tugging on Cornelius and *snap!* He broke the cord.
I was FURIOUS.
"Relax, Chinito. You can get another string."
That's when I tore into him.
"Are you FUCKING kidding me?"
"What? It's just the string. You can get another."
"I have had that necklace for five years and I have never taken it off in those five years. No, asshole. You fucking broke it."
"What's the big deal?"
"Get the fuck away from me right now."
"Relax, Chinito. It's not a big deal."
"I'm telling you right now, you need to get away from me."
"Chinito...."
"Get. the. fuck. away. from. me... now."
I was able to get Cornelius back on the string, but now it looks all ghetto with the knot in the middle tying it together. Today, I might try to find a proper cord to thread Cornelius back on, and I may try to save the hardware so I still have a clasp, but really, I'm still angry. It's a good thing that Juan is going on vacation for the next ten days starting with the day I get back from my two days off. No more games with that kid. Next I see him, he gets the warning to keep his hands to himself, or I'll make him keep his hands to himself.
Anyone around good with cheap cord jewelery? I suck at this kind of stuff.
