You haven’t seen blue until you’ve been to Capri. You haven’t seen stars until you’ve been to Capri. You haven’t been happy until you’ve been to Capri. I hadn’t been happy, truly happy, until I sprawled out on the rooftop of my hotel on the island of Capri and reflected on the previous 36 hours of my life while gazing upon the sky’s bouquet of distant white lights.

Having been turned away from a Hostel in Sorrento, the land-bound town neighboring the island, my friends and I decided to be optimistic. We could sleep on the beach, or, better yet, we could have a picnic and sleep on the beach. Thus, we stocked up on the picnic-basket usuals of water, orange soda, a loaf of bread, nutella, and lemoncello at a local grocery. Equipped with these base needs of a typical college student, we set out for the beach only to find a cheap imitation. It was not an endless, smooth bed of sand alongside the shore of clear Mediterranean water. No! It was a poorly-crafted, uneven sidewalk made of concrete and hard rock. Half of a light layer of sand taunted all fifteen members of the group, mocking our desires for comfort. But “Peter’s Beach”, as it was labeled, was going to have to do.

Cold and uncomfortable, some of us started a rough night’s sleep upon the hard stone. Others indulged in the picnic and the artificial warmth of the vodka. Nonetheless, a night of memories was made that will define discomfort for the rest of our lives, whether it was felt all night long or in amplified doses in the morning. By the time the beautiful sun rose, not one of my fellow travelers noted its glory, for we were far too concerned with our small exodus from Sorrento to the island of Capri.

I remembered this in staring out into the infinite darkness of the cosmos. I remembered now my day slowly garnered exponential force toward the opposite end of the spectrum, for I found myself having grown from a state of complete unhappiness to one of utter gratefulness. I was thankful for everything around me, specifically the island of Capri and the natural beauty and experiences I was granted that Saturday.

A long walk through the island town of Anacapri brought our very humbled group to a miniature paradise known as Villa Eva, where a friend quickly arranged for us to spend the night. A smile cracked the blank stare of my face, for while my cynicism didn’t want to admit possible fortune, this was it. After getting situated in our rooms with the most comfortable marshmallow beds, five of us took initiative in finding sustenance in a small grocery store. For some reason, this picnic lunch (mind-you the second picnic of the trip) excited me beyond belief. After stocking up on bread, salami, and cheese, we made our way back to the hotel and sat in silence as we constructed our banquets. I have never had a better sandwich in my life.

Later in the day, I swam in the blue grotto, a cave on the side of the island in which you look down to see the most fantastic color blue. Though the salt water continuously scratched at my eyes and filled my mouth, my wonder kept my eyes looking down until I was told to get out. Blue is now my favorite color.

I did little else of significance for the rest of the day other than buy a Coca-cola for five euro. I didn’t care—I was elated. Thus, when the time came to end my day, I whole-heartedly resisted. I sat myself down on the rooftop of the hotel with the rest of my friends. As they talked and laughed over the turn of events of the past two days, I unintentionally removed myself from their conversation and focused on my thoughts: could this be the happiest moment in my life thus far?

That’s somewhat of a daunting question. I could remember no other time in my nineteen years that could top this. But why? What makes this one stand out? Perhaps it is the surrounding of events, that I was finally exploring Italy. Most likely, however, my happiness stems from the shock of my reversal of fortune, having sprung from the horror of Peter’s Beach to the plush wonder of Villa Eva. Even so, I recognize Capri to be how I perceived it and in my own context. To me, its skies house the definition of blue. To me, its skies house the best sight of the night sky. To me, the memory of Capri is my happiest in my life as I know it.