We're almost halfway through our 2022 family trip when we stop in Cinque Terre. It was such a gorgeous summer day that we felt it would've been wrong to do anything other than bask in the Italian sun. So, we pack the essentials: snacks, towels, water, and my drone, of course, and head down to the beach.
Once we've settled into our spot on the beach, my sister turns to me and says, "Let's go swim." We walk along the shore to a little ladder on the side of the rocks that leads to a deeper part of the Ligurian Sea. We go down the ladder into the water, where, in hindsight, we should not have been swimming due to the strength of the current, but nevertheless, we keep going.
A few minutes pass, and she asks if I want to return to shore. I decide to stay in the water as she floats away. A few more minutes go by, and the current picks up. My shoulder, courtesy of my many motocross years, is pulled out of its socket by the force of the current, and I start to panic.
I'm sure you could've guessed if you haven't experienced this already, but your shoulder does not simply pop back into place. So there I am, starting to drown, screaming, "AIUTA RAGAZZI! AIUTA!" to the nearby swimmers who looked as if everything was calm and had no cares in the world. Once they realized I was, in fact, drowning, they help me out of the current and bring me close to the shore where I can finally feel the ground beneath me again.
Now, this beach wasn't your typical white sand, blue water type of beach. It had beautiful, bright blue water, yes, but instead of sand, it had rocks. The type of rocks where you can barely stand without your feet getting tender and begging you to sit down to alleviate them from their hard work. The type of rocks that clearly separate the tourists from the locals.
Keeping this in mind, I hope you can understand how vulnerable I felt coming out of the water on all fours as opposed to strutting my way out like the Italians. All eyes were, of course, on me following my spectacle. I plop onto my back to guide my shoulder to its predetermined home before I can stand up and wobble back to our spot on the beach.
I sat beside my wife, who had no idea what had happened. She said, "Hey, you disappeared!" To which I replied, "Yes, almost." Thinking about Poseidon, who almost claimed my soul to the sea that day, I titled this one "non ancora," which in Italian translates to "not yet."
