Watching the Sun Rise

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  Rimini, Italy
Monday, July 3, 2006

I never slept when I was in Rimini.

My mind, fueled by wine and coffee, was always spinning with thoughts of what to do next. To work or not to work? To stay or move on and to where? What am I doing with my life? What happens when all this is over? Do I want it to be over? Where is 'home' now? I was grasping for answers and only found more questions. I was buzzing with confusion, fear, and the exhileration of looking into the unknown.

My body was also taken by the restlessness. So long under cover and controlled, I was itching to just let go. And on the dance floor I would let the music carry me away. I shook my hips to the beat, eyes closed, feeling the rhythms coarse through my body. Holding my hair off my neck, the ocean breeze coolling the sweat from my skin, I felt the sudden rush of release as I gave myself up to the frenzy of the night

A champagne night...

. This is what I craved. The escape. The excitement. The passion of the moment.

I turned 23 when I was in Rimini.

For some reason 23 seems to be that magic number that suddenly makes you a 'grown up'. You are no longer completely in your early 20s, but somewhere bordering the suddenly serious mid-20s. No longer a student, you are supposed to be more responsible and are held accountable for your actions to a greater degree. People start getting married or engaged. Every relationship takes on new significance - could this be 'the one'? You're no longer asked what you study or what you think you might want to do, but what you DO do and about your ten year plan. You become aware of your age in a way you never were before. And there I was, a wanderer with no plan, no job, and (God forbid!) no boyfriend about to hit that magic age of adultness.

If there's one thing that backpackers love, it's a party. From fake weddings to real birthdays to full moons, any excuse for a celebration is always welcome. And after a couple days in Rimini, I had a fairly large group together eager to take part in the festivities. There was Adam, an Ozzie searching for something, though like most of us, he wasn't exactly sure what. He was the first person I met, my coffee buddy in the morning, and the source of many great conversations. I had convinced him to stay an extra day so he would be there for the big day. Galen was a Canadian who had gotten his wallet stolen my first night, and now found himself stuck in Rimini for a week while he waited to get his credit card sent to him. I could never figure out what he was thinking, and though we ended up spending a lot of time together, it wasn't until later that I realized I knew almost nothing about him

Adam on the beach

. He ended up being the source of a lot of angst on my part. Sarah, an American, and Charlie from France had just come from a volunteer work camp and with their boistrous energy and humor jumped right into helping with preparations. By the end of the night we ended up with some English girls, American guys, an Italian, and a Russian also joining in the fun. But by then the champagne had taken its effect and I was never sure of their names.

My first birthday present was a package of sugar for my coffee lovingly given to me by Adam. And the day just got better from there. We spent most of our time on the beach soaking up the sun and cooling down in the sea. And though Rimini's beaches are covered in candy-striped umbrellas, the only bare parts being small strips of public sand littered with cigarette butts. And though the water is somehow dirtier in the public areas as if even the waves are aware that we haven't paid five euro to enjoy them, I had a great time. After the beach we indulged in our afternoon hammock naps. Then preparations began for our feast. Everyone pitched in. Galen and I did the green salads, Sarah the bruschetta, Charlie was in charge of wine, Galen prepared the pesto pasta, and Adam went out and got stuff that we had forgotten. The red wine was flowing and the cameras flashing as we sat down for dinner. Soon the champagne cork was popped and the party really began as I went around inviting everyone in the hostel to come out dancing

Ali and Me

. Somehow we navigated the bus and ended up at Coconuts, the place where pretty people go to dance. And we danced! By the end of the night someone gave me a rose, I'd had Happy Birthday sung to be countless times, and the drinks kept coming. I was 23 and the last thing on my mind as I swayed my hips to that 'Crazy' song was my ten year plan.

I said goodbye in Rimini.

Nobody goes to Rimini. It's dirty. It's tacky. It's a smaller, less hip Italian Miami. And yet, for some reason, I met really amazing people who for various reasons did go to Rimini. And I had a blast. From all walks of life, with all sorts of different things we were trying to get figured out, and different plans for the future, we all found ourselves stuck in this crazy little city. On top of those who attended my birthday party, there was George, the hyperactive kid ignored by his mom who attached himself to my side for three days. There was the stuttering cook who hated cooking. I found a kindred spirit in Ali the artist who was almost my tattoo sister. All these people, whether there for two days or five days, made my time in Rimini special. We laughed together, cooked together, drank together, and each shared our stories. We made memories together. But then, as is always the case on the road, there came the time to say goodbye. And though our paths through life may only have overlapped for a short time and we may never meet again, hey, we'll always have Rimini.

I watched the sun rise in Rimini.

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Birthday Feast	Charlie and Sarah	Me and George	Me, Galen, and Sarah on B'day Night
The girls

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