I just got back from a wonderful trip to Italy. I
could write about the beauty of Tuscany’s rolling hills, soldier-straight
cypresses, and misty mornings. I could write about Italy’s fabulous food – the
tang of real parmesan cheese, the perfect bite of pasta, and the joy of a
country that serves Nutella-slathered pastries for breakfast. I could even
venture into the literary territory of trying to describe the spectacular
mosaics of San Marco in Venice, the exquisite frescoes of Giotto in the
Scrovegni Chapel, or the architecture of jaw-dropping cathedrals.
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| Beautiful, rain-soaked San Marco Basilica, Venice |
But I’m not going to write about any of those
things. I want to write about the ugly side of travel. The mishaps and
misadventures, the fatigue at the end of a day spent on one’s feet, the scary
feeling of unfamiliarity. Travel is all about beauty and experiencing something
new and seeing the world. But it’s also about feeling vulnerable and out of
control. It’s about missing trains and being frustrated at not being able to
express ourselves. It’s about making dumb mistakes . . . and paying for them.
You would think these misadventures would be enough
to kill the travel bug. But that’s not the case. In fact, these experiences
might feed it.
We had a lot of mishaps on this trip, perhaps more
than usual. I don’t know why. I went on this trip with seasoned traveler
friends, Richard and Melody Manwaring, and my two sisters, who have also donned
their travel shoes quite a few times. You’d think we would know that you have
to scoot down to get off the train when they call the stop so we wouldn’t end
up in a tiny town that a tourist has never seen. You’d think we’d remember to
validate train tickets, so we wouldn’t be fined. You’d think we wouldn’t get
lost or forget to pay a hotel bill or lose sight of fellow travelers or end up
paying more for something than we’d planned.
But all of those things happened. I asked myself, are
we too old to travel? Have we lost the touch? Was our group too unwieldy?
Nope. None of those things. We were traveling. Stuff happens when you travel. Period.
The ironic thing is that travel mishaps often end
up being the best memories of the trip. For example, when we missed our train
stop and ended up in the tiny, dark town? We discovered a restaurant that
apparently was the hot spot for the entire community. We ate calzones as big as
our heads, while we observed enormous tables of men gesturing wildly, talking
animatedly, laughing and clearly enjoying each other’s company. It seemed a
familiar ritual. We watched them as we tried bruschetta twelve ways – not only
the traditional tomatoes and olive oil, but also topped with salt cod, offal,
sugar-coated pancetta, briny olives, and other unidentifiable pastes and pates.
We agreed this was the best food we’d eaten during the entire trip, and the
people welcomed us, like we were one of the party.
Of course, not every travel adventure has a happy
ending. The last time I went to Italy, I went home with a broken arm. That wasn’t
fun. But it’s all part of the journey . . . and it makes a good story.
If I wanted to avoid risk, I’d stay home and never
leave my house . . . and never see the world.
Nah, I don’t think so. I’ll take my chances.
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| The Ponte Vecchio in Florence - No mishaps here, just the best gelato we had in Italy |
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| Melody Manwaring, Bonnie Kennan, Leanna Crockett, Lisa Turner | Singing Puccini arias outside the Puccini museum in Lucca. The head of the Puccini Foundation heard us singing and came out and told us all about Puccini and his importance to Italians. A bit of travel serendipity! |
