Baci a Portofino

Chapter Two - Inizia la magia

As we approached our hotel, its stone facade lit softly by hanging lanterns, I realized we'd already crossed half of the town without me even noticing. My parents led the way through the entrance, nodding at the concierge, and we headed upstairs to our hotel room. The familiar creak of the wooden door as it opened pulled me out of my thoughts. Inside, the cozy room smelled faintly of coffee, the windows cracked open to let in the evening breeze. I slipped off my shoes and put them neatly by the door, feeling the cool tile floor beneath my feet as I settled onto one of the beds. I was still anxious about tomorrow, how the hours between now and then felt impossible to wait through. With one last glance out the window at the moonlit streets, I lay back, anticipation already building for tomorrow's possibilities.

The morning arrived swiftly, birds chirping and live music filling the streets. My mother got up from her bed and opened the curtains. The sun beamed through the windows, illuminating each corner of our hotel room.

"Come on everyone, get dressed! It's time for breakfast." She said, all dolled up. I rubbed my eyes, a little bit tired. I didn't get much sleep, it went by more quickly than I imagined.

"How are you so hyper already?" I asked, heading to the bathroom to get changed.

"We're in Italy, Olivia, how are you not awake?" She responded, fiddling with her suitcase.

"Touché." I scoffed, walking back out in my outfit of the day. My mom unlocked the door and gestured for us all to head out, we stepped into the hallway one by one. She locked the door and we glided down the stairs. My mom pointed out the window.

"There's a lovely café across the street! I could really use some coffee." My mother declared. We walked out of the hotel, clamouring voices of locals as they strolled through the nearby market. People exchanged fruits and coins, crocheted grocery bags holding their goodies. The stands were colourful and full of life. I looked over to another stand, one that caught my eye in particular. It was flooded with people, the stand was titled 'Forza Ferrari'. Merch, flags, and accessories, some homemade, were being sold. I heard in a Formula One documentary that there are two religions in Italy. The catholic church, and Ferrari. Before I could look any longer, my mom dragged me into the café. Staff welcomed us with open arms, and brought us to a table in the back that was outside. The scenery was very elegant and pleasing to look at.

"Salve! Cosa posso portarvi, amici miei? Qualcosa da bere?" The waitress questioned, cupping her hands with a smile.

"Uh," My father said, glancing at my mom and then back at the waitress. She had a moment of realization.

"Lei non parla italiano! Mi scusi, un momento." The waitress stammered, gesturing her hands for us to wait. She ran into the café with haste. I looked at my mom, and she shrugged. Soon, a waiter came out and walked over to our table.

"Hello! Sorry. What can I bring for you, my friends?" He said, his Italian accent thick. My dad smiled and looked briefly over the menu.

"Excuse my bad Italian. Un caffè per favore, with an individual cannoli." He said, closing the menu and passing it to the waiter. The waiter nodded and wrote it down. He then looked at me, waiting for a response. I anxiously scanned the menu and chose something quickly.

"Could I...uh...caffè con panna?" I said hesitantly, smiling at the waiter. He nodded with a grin. I couldn't tell if it was judgemental or not.

"Prendo un cappuccino. E due tiramisù, per favore." My mother chimed in. She'd been spending a freakish amount of time on a language-learning app before we came. The waiter gave a thumbs up, finishing writing down what we ordered. As he walked back into the café, the voices of customers filled the atmosphere around us. It wasn't too loud though, it was peaceful. It felt welcoming, and like people belonged here whether they were tourists or not. He soon brought out our drinks and food, setting them gently on the table and handing them to each of us.