Hikers carrying long poles and wearing thick, heavy steel-toed boots passed her. Another woman carrying a selfie stick and wearing flip-flops stumbled over the stone steps. Sabrina glanced at her own feet.
She’ll have some angry red blisters once she realizes the towns aren’t as close as she thinks they are. Even without too many stops, it’s taken me nearly two hours to hike this far from Monterosso al Mare.
She removed a granola bar from her day pack and bit into her crunchy snack. Pecan and cinnamon filled her taste buds, giving her a small boost of energy. On one of the cliffs not far below, a group of three daredevil youths plunged into the sea.
She cringed and covered her eyes. A few seconds later, the trio poked their heads up from the seawater to the cheers of their friends farther along the trail. She breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Taking a drink from her water bottle, Sabrina contemplated her next move.
I should find a spot to check my email, but I don’t want to get my hopes up again just to have them come crashing down. It’s been a week and a half, and I thought that with all my experience, by now I would have been able to pick up some work as a virtual assistant.
She blew a stray lock of hair out of her face.
I have enough money saved up to last at least until the end of the month, but if I don’t start earning some sort of income again soon, I’ll be in trouble.
Money was flowing out of her account faster than she’d anticipated. As usual, her sister had been right. Europe was more expensive than she’d counted on. She bowed her head and shook it. Although she would be staying with Nora rent-free, Sabrina still wanted to be able to offer some money for her general upkeep.
I promised Maggie I would reach out to her if I got into trouble, but more than ever I want to prove to her that I can make it on my own. None of the blogs describing life as a digital nomad mentioned the difficulty of finding work. I was naive to think everything would magically fall into place. If Maggie were here, she would tell me to sit my butt down and start posting my resume on a few more virtual-assistant job websites. I guess that’s what I’ll do.
Standing, Sabrina resumed her walk. It was strange how quickly the weather in the Mediterranean could change. The morning had been foggy and cool. Now, the overhead sun brought about sweltering conditions.
The thick green canopy of juniper and wild broom bushes thinned out. As she ascended the final incline, she was rewarded with a perfect view of Vernazza’s medieval castle tower nestled to the left of the beach. The town’s church bells rang out three times.
Sabrina paused to catch her breath. Her leg muscles spasmed. She smelled salt, freshly baked bread, and flowers. Turning left, she headed directly down the wet, slippery pathway to the beach, where a series of blue-and-white-striped umbrellas and lounge chairs awaited her. The sea had never been a more welcome, refreshing sight to behold.
The sea looks amazing.
Yet in her ear, she heard her mother and her sister nagging at her to focus on work first and pleasure second. Her fingers itched. Staring longingly at the beach one last time, Sabrina’s shoulders drooped. She found a café with Wi-Fi, slipped out her tablet, and silently set to work as families and beachgoers cackled in excitement in the background.
* * *
A few hours later, voices clamored for attention, yelling over one another as Sabrina walked up the pathway to an open piazza. Lined up in a neat row were a series of tents with different-colored canopies.
“Senorina!” a man in a navy-blue T-shirt called to her from inside a metallic-silver food truck to her left. “You must test out my gelato. It is the best in all of Vernazza’s farmers’ market. Only two euros.” He gestured to the menu of flavors on a handwritten chalkboard sign.
“I can’t say no to gelato!” She walked toward the vendor’s truck and eagerly scanned the list.
Orange cream, lemon, pistachio, peanut butter, chocolate? Where do I even start? Everything sounds delicious. Order one of everything?
“What’s your most popular flavor?” Sabrina tapped the front pocket of her jean shorts, searching for a spare coin.
“The fig and lemon.”
“I’ll try that one in a waffle cone, please.” The man moved around inside the truck with practiced ease.
She placed the payment on the counter and reached for the icy treat. “Is there a farmers’ market every day?”
“Each village of the Cinque Terre has a market day once a week. On Tuesdays, it is Vernazza’s turn.”
She thanked the man and greedily licked her dessert. The light cream melted in her mouth. She could taste not only the sweet fig and tangy lemon flavors, but also honey and pistachio nuts. Her eyelids fluttered in delight.
Strolling through the market, she could see vendors selling everything from fresh seafood to tourist trinkets. In spite of shopping elbow-to-elbow with locals, it was the tourists who stood out as the targets of the stall owners.
The owner of a stand selling leather goods shouted at her. “Senorina! You wish to see some of the finest-crafted leather handbags in all of Italy?” He gestured to a red saddlebag and camel-brown messenger bag.
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
The stall owner shrugged and moved on to the passing couple behind her.
