When you're standing on a cliff on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, you don't look down. You look up, mumble a prayer and you jump. I had always imagined that Southern Italy would be hotter. But in April, it was a mild 60 degrees. Thrashing against the current and the icy water that stung the lobes of my ears, it felt much more like a December in Pennsylvania than spring break in the Mediterranean.

After swimming toward shore, I crawled up jagged rocks onto flat ground. Grabbing a towel, I blotted my bloodied knees and covered my shivering shoulders. I was in Massa Lubrense, home to music producer and local farmer Peppe De Angelis. After waiting for several other adrenaline-rushed college students with whom I was taking a travel photography class, I walked barefoot uphill to Peppe's house.

Read more

Source: http://www.post-gazette.com/