La Grotta Azurra

As a young, gangly, awkward pre-teen, I wasn't quite the social butterfly that I tend to be now. When I wasn't swinging on the uneven parallel bars, tooting on my clarinet, or furiously solving problems for my pre-algebra math homework, I often disappeared into an imaginary world behind a few leafs of pages bound together to create one fascinating story that ended up shaping my reality.
 

 It was a silly story really. Not any sort of classic novel, with tales of ancient times or prose that reflected the genius of some of history's bests authors. No, rather it was a simple tale, about a simple teenage girl living in the hustle and bustle of sunny southern California. Her name was Christy Miller.

Nothing more than just an entertaining, easy read for a teen, the Christy Miller series quickly became near and dear to my heart. Upon receiving the very first book of the twelve book series as a gift from my mother, I learned that the author had been a close friend of hers - my mom's old Sunday School teacher in her own days of growing up in southern California. Naturally, a fictional story about fictional characters suddenly become ever so slightly more real when you know (or know someone who knows) the author.

After my first introduction to Christy Miller, she became a dear friend to me throughout the duration of my youth. I looked up to her, I loved her adventures, I wanted her life. Sometimes she felt so real that on family trips out to visit relatives in southern Cali, I more than once caught myself looking around on the sandpits at the beach to see if Christy Miller and her friends were there.

Although just a fictional character, Christy Miller was the ideal Christian girl, and I learned and was shaped by the wisdom the author incorporated into her adventures. Every different place that was mentioned or line that was said cemented itself deep into my memory, anchoring itself in a nagging little nook that wouldn't be relieved until I experienced the adventures myself in reality.

And thus was born the dream of the Blue Grotto. To be honest, I couldn't even remember the story that involved the mention of the Blue Grotto, or which of the Christy Miller characters had talked about it and in which book. But I remembered it. I remembered how it struck me. And I knew I wanted to go.

Years later, my opportunity finally arose. We were on a family vacation cruising through the Mediterranean, with a day stop along the Amalfi Coast. Someone had mentioned that the Blue Grotto was also located in this area, and even though I still had no idea what it really was, I desperately wanted to go.

Among family discussions about our travel plans, my sister reminded me the background story of Christy Miller and the Blue Grotto. Apparently a guy that Christy was dating had taken a trip to Italy and called her, long distance, from Italy simply to tell her about the adventure he had taken that day to the azure waters of the grotto where he saw incredible blue waters that reminded him of the color of Christy's ocean eyes.

Cheesy. I know.

But doesn't it kind of peak your interest to visit a place that is apparently so beautiful, and romantic? So I begged my dad to route us through the tiny island of Capri where this famous sparkling cave was located.

We couldn't. With only one day to spend in Naples, the entire Amalfi Coast, and Pompeii, it was just not possible to spend all the time it took just to get to Capri.

I was heartbroken. But it set a steadfast dream in my heart to return with certainty someday.

Unfortunately that opportunity did not arise until several years later, while living in Italy for my second time, and waiting for the right week where I would have free time and could expect good weather.

Finally, in May this year, my dad came to visit me in Italy and we planned a trip down to the Amalfi Coast. I told him that this time, there was no way we were leaving without seeing the Blue Grotto.

Although the Blue Grotto meant spending and entire day on the island of our only two day trip, none of us seemed too disappointed to leave behind the mess and filth of Naples and sail away to a relaxing, quaint island for the afternoon. We boarded a ferry and in less than an hour were walking around sunny streets filled with tourists and an air of tranquility and charm.

To avoid the never ending lines to get into the Grotto, we decided to take a private boat ride with a local sailor who offered to take us on a boat tour around the island. Still slightly queasy from the choppy ferry ride, we almost rejected his offer on account of our fear for motion sickness, but fortunately we decided to give it a go.

I'm so glad we did.


We set out on the still, crystal blue waters with the wind whipping on our necks and the sun warming our cheery faces. It was beautiful. And the world was still.

 

We zoomed through coves and crevices, gazing up all the while at the mountainous island above us and admiring its splendor and beauty. My eyes were delighted with the sparkle of the sunlight dancing on the water, but my mind wandered to far away places.

I was in Ireland, climbing glorious mountains by myself with a rush of adventure at what I might find at the top. I was walking through the streets of Korea watching the excitement of nightlife as I passed by. I was floating by castles in Germany from a first row seat on a river boat. I was zip lining through the jungles of Thailand.

But there was more. I was riding a camel through the sandy deserts of Egypt. I was lounging on the beach in Costa Rica. I was driving yet still through the unexplored areas of Ireland. I was meeting friends in pubs in Argentina.

The world was mine. The parts I have seen. The parts I still dream to see. All of it so vivid. So vast. So real.

And the sea breeze blew on my face.

The quiet stillness of the sea suddenly erupted with chatter and commotion. We had arrived at the Blue Grotto. My dream was about to come true. I had been told before coming that visitors are only allowed to stay inside for three or so minutes before needing to exit again, but somehow I knew those three minutes would be worth it.

And were they ever.

We boarded a small canoe with an Italian tour guide/sailor and braced ourselves for the entrance into the cave. Boats enter one at a time through a tiny opening in the side of a rock, waves splashing up on both sides always threatening to douse trespassers. The canoe men command all passengers to lay down, heads tucked safely inside the boat, while they brace themselves against the rock to steady the bobbling canoe and allow safe passage through the caves entrance. It's wild, a little scary, and full of commotion.

And then before we knew it, we were tucked away in the silence of a dark, quiet cave, with only a few other boats to accompany us. There's no better word to describe the cave than romantic. Romantic, magical, mystical, breathtaking. Filled with blackness and silence, yet illuminated by the fluorescent glow of bright blue waters below. I've never seen anything like it. I truly was in an entirely new world.

The waters shimmered and sparkled, bouncing their light off the rock walls and filling the cave with their magic. Our guide spun us around the small cave more than once, allowing us to have the experience fully sink in. Just when I thought the moment couldn't be any more perfect, he began to sing. A beautiful, romantic traditional Italian song, and one of my favorites - Volare, the traditional song for any gondolier to sing to his passengers in the canals of Venice. And there's a reason for it.

Although I desperately wanted photos of this beautiful experience, I tried to give my camera a break for a moment so that I could take in the magnificence through my own eyes and not just from behind a lens. I gazed. I reveled. I smiled.

And we were out. Laying down once again, waves crashing around, boat bouncing and bumping, and there was the sun: shining brightly in our faces, blinding our unadjusted eyes, and re-welcoming us back into a different world filled with beauty and majesty all the same.

Three minutes, no more. Three minutes, and I experienced one of the most magical moments I have ever had. I fulfilled a dream. I lived a moment of bliss. And it was perfect.