King of San Vito lo Capo

        My alarm startled me from my sleep at 5:43. I wasn’t sure how many hours of sleep that figured out to be because my time schedule was still off from travelling.
        A few minutes later, the hotel wake-up call came, by then I was wide awake. Something about seeing the sunrise in another world makes crawling out of a warm bed easier.
        As my bare feet slide onto the cold stone I wish I had brought my slippers. But as I make my way to the bathroom tip-toeing through puddles I retract the thought. The showers were nothing more than a curtain surrounding a faucet that hung from the wall and we had learned the hard way that our showers would flood the hotel room.
        From our room I can see that some light has already begun to creep into this part of the world and I dive into the first outfit I pull from my suitcase. I doubt I’ll be this awake at 5:45 tomorrow. I slip my feet into a pair of sandals and race down the two flights to the main lobby where Joy is waiting.
        I am impatient, and I don’t want to wait for late-comers. Sunrise lasts only moments. We leave quickly, with a few hesitant looks back for stragglers.
        There is no one. The town of San Vito lo Capo is silent as we make our way to the shore. As Joy scampers about with her camera, silently recording whatever seems worthy, I take a seat at a bench and dig my feet into the sand. The air is cool, and the sand is damp, a dark tan shade interrupted by the vibrance of my electric-pink painted toe nails.
        My camera is not equipped to capture the sunrise here, but then again, I don’t think any camera really is. So I sit, taking in the hues of pink and orange, purple and blue. As I breathe in the sweet salty ocean air, they melt together and fade as the sun itself takes its place as king of the Sicilian sky casting shadows of palm trees all around me.