I had wanted to visit those five peculiar little towns ever since I saw a photograph online years before. During my time in Florence, visiting here was definitely on my to-do list. There was something about it that seemed magical, as if it could not exist. It was hidden away from the cruel world and preserved by time itself.

A three hour train ride from Florence, a walk down concrete steps, through humid narrow side streets, and there it was. Weathered-down but vibrantly colored houses could be seen from every angle, as if a five year old had stolen a box of crayons and colored the exteriors themselves. Impossibly blue skies blended together with shimmering and splashing clear water on the horizon. The salty sea air combined with boats of all shapes and sizes lining the dock and the sandy shoreline was straight out of a dream. Soft green grass covered the hillside like a blanket. They are a string of five seaside villages on the Italian Riviera. This was Cinque Terre.

We spent the day skipping from town to town. After a few boat rides, a delicious seafood lunch, hiking, and sunbathing, we ended up at Riomaggiere. Instead of grass, rocks created this hill. Fellow travelers would climb the steep hill and catapult themselves over the edge and into the water, sometimes a 50-foot drop, just barely missing the rocks below. "We should jump," she said. Our initial reactions were hesitation and fear, but we were easily convinced. You only live once, right? So we climbed barefoot up the rocks, our hearts beating so fast they could burst through our chests. Our legs and lungs burned, our faces were tinted pink, but the view from the top truly left us breathless. The coastline and the sky and the city itself were all connected. The sun shined down on the water, giving it a glittery effect, as if fairies were casting a spell. The pastel colors of blues and greens and yellows and pinks blurred together as we slowly closed our eyes, grabbed each other's hands, let go of fear, and jumped.