I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
Five hundred eighty-two.
I counted them yesterday.
Now I had to climb them again.
Somewhere beyond Cornaglia—beyond the houses and terraces and another hour of climbing—lay Vernazza. Manarola an hour after that, and Riomaggiore further still.
Yesterday, I’d only made it to Vernazza. Today, I wanted to go further.
My legs were already trembling.
I looked at the stairs, pulled the straps on my backpack and felt them tighten against my shoulders, and took the first step.
The ground beneath my feet began to rumble just then.
The sound grew louder.
Then a train burst from the mountainside and pulled into the station below me.
I stopped climbing.
The brakes squealed.
The doors opened.
People stepped onto the platform and immediately started climbing the same stairs I was standing beneath.
I looked at them. Then at the stairs. Then back at the train.
The doors were still open.
I walked inside.
~
I had tried to buy a ticket.
The machine stood against the station wall beneath a small screen filled with buttons.
I pressed the language option.
Nothing happened.
I pressed it again.
The screen changed.
I selected my destination.
The machine thought about it. Then returned me to the first screen.
I pressed it again.
DESTINATION
Another screen appeared.
PASS
MUSEUM
TRAIL
I went back, pressed DESTINATION.
PASS
MUSEUM
TRAIL
I looked at the machine.
There was a line forming behind me.
I stepped aside.
A woman walked up, pressed three buttons without looking, and the machine spit out a ticket.
I waited for her to leave.
Then I tried again.
DESTINATION
PASS
MUSEUM
TRAIL
I looked at the price.
I could buy the pass. It included admission to several places I didn’t intend to visit.
Or I could hike.
I’d been planning to hike everywhere anyway.
But that was yesterday, and yesterday ended with me dehydrated, sticky from sweat, and napping on the wave-break in the next town.
~
Now I was sitting on a train without a ticket.
I stood beside the door and watched the platform slide away.
The town dropped behind us.
The track curved along the mountainside.
Vernazza.
Next stop.
I moved farther into the carriage and found an empty seat near the end.
The train accelerated.
A few seconds later, the windows went black.
The pressure changed inside the carriage as we entered the tunnel.
Then the darkness vanished, and daylight flooded through the windows.
The Mediterranean appeared below us.
I leaned back.
No stairs.
No switchbacks.
No stone steps disappearing around another corner.
Just the hum of the train.
I closed my eyes and let the railway carry me.
Then.
I heard the doors at the other end of the carriage open.
I opened my eyes and looked behind me.
A man in a dark uniform stepped inside.
He stopped beside the first passenger.
“Ticket.”
He checked it.
Moved on.
I looked toward the other end of the carriage.
Another uniform.
I sat up.
They were coming from both directions.
I stood.
The inspector nearest me checked the passenger in front of him.
I moved toward the door.
He looked down at another ticket.
I looked through the window.
The next station was already coming into view.
I stayed beside the door.
The other inspector moved closer.
One row.
Then another.
The first inspector was three rows away.
I put my hand on the door.
The train slowed.
The inspector looked up.
Our eyes met.
The train stopped.
The doors opened.
And I stepped onto the platform.
Behind me, the doors closed.
I kept walking.
~
I told myself I wouldn’t do it again.
Then I looked up.
Another staircase waited above me.
I climbed.
At the next station, I tried the machine again.
Then I saw another train arrive.
I watched the doors open.
I looked at the stairs.
And I got on.