There is a specific shade of yellow that I thought only existed in turmeric stains on my mother's tablecloth. Then I went to Italy.
Cinque Terre is not just a place; it is a chaotic, beautiful mess of color that feels incredibly familiar to anyone who grew up in South Asia. The noise, the shouting across balconies, the laundry hanging like flags of surrender—it all felt like home.
The Train Ride
Getting there is half the battle. The train hugs the coastline, disappearing into tunnels and bursting out into sunlight that blinds you. It reminds me of the trains back home, minus the open doors.
The Food
We need to talk about the pesto. It’s green, it’s vibrant, and it has a kick that I didn’t expect. While it’s not spicy in the way I’m used to, the basil has a pepperiness that wakes you up.
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