Stumbling into a Hans Christian Anderson tale
One of the greatest delights of moving to Switzerland (and, more recently, buying a car) is the ability to spontaneously stop just about anywhere off the side of the road as we drive through different spots of Europe. Granted, we haven’t gotten to do all to much of this activity yet, but the small bits and pieces of “let’s just go check this out!” have created some of our favorite memories here thus far.
En route to Tuscany we had such a moment, deciding at the very last second to take the slightly longer coastal route down from Switzerland, skirting the western Italian coastline and the city of Genoa. Seeing the Mediterranean sea for the first time in many years felt like greeting an old friend, and we craned our necks between tunnels and covered bridges to get every glimpse we could of the glimmering blue.
Sea-keen and senses piqued, we picked a random small town off the map for a coastal rest stop. As we pulled in to Sestre Levante, I shared giddily with Freddy that we just so happened to pick the very town that Hans Christian Anderson supposedly visited during his famous travels — and that this town is rumored to be the spot that inspired his story, The Little Mermaid. You can imagine my delight at stumbling into the possible birthplace of one of my favorite fairytales!
I carried that lightened spirit into each step through the old town, across a beach and up a hill towards a spot that Google promised would be a “scenic point.” Between thick grey clouds streamed golden rays of light, reflecting across the wind-whipped waves with furious brilliance. We gazed down across a rainbow of old buildings from our path, breathing in the fresh salty air and apologizing to Obi for not letting him shoot back down the road to the beach for a swim. Spying a pathway amongst the jagged rocks below us, I began to scramble down towards the water, desperate for a closer brush with the sea.
Meanwhile, Freddy and Obi negotiated their way down the path and across the rocky cove towards an outcropping of wild cacti — just like the once we’d been growing in our yard in Los Olivos — emerging from the cliffside. As I basked in the salty sunshine, Freddy pulled a few green paddles off the plant, cheeks red with the wind and excitement to try growing them again inside our small Leysin apartment.
We may not have spotted any mermaids (though Obi’s incessant tugging on his leash to try to get into the water might mean he saw something we didn’t…), but it was still a magical seaside hour spent together in Sestre Levante.
Love from a Tuscan castle,
sbmc
