Last year on this day, I stepped foot on an airplane that took me to Italy. It served as a symbolic gesture as it was a total dedication to leaving my comfort zone, leaving my job, family, friends and everything that I held dear (except my bike and computer). The trip to Italy was a chance of a lifetime to step back from normal life. It turned out to be a lot more than that.
I went almost on a whim when I found out that logistically, it's not that hard or expensive to live in Italy and take language classes for a period of time. The logic at the time was that I had family to meet in Italy who I had never known, it would be fun (and good for my brain) to learn a foreign language and when else in life would I be that single, that easily able to put a bow around my U.S. life and live overseas?
That's all it was supposed to be. Taking a step out of the working world was a real education. I got the chance to turn back time. Living a fully immersed life in Italian before I knew the language was being turned into a 2-year-old. How does that feel? Truthfully, at first, everything was fabulous. Everything was a discovery. Each interaction at every store, every new vista, every new person who welcomed me into their home with open arms. I was no different than a child seeing the world for the first time. Things that would be commonplace and nothing to notice in the US was wildly interesting there. Had that conversation happened in English, I wouldn't have noticed or remembered. And at that point, it was okay I didn't know Italian.
As this toddler grew up, it became harder. The reality of life came into view. Understanding more of the language, it was possible to understand more of the political realities and truths of what appeared to be the perfect place proving it's not. It also became more challenging not being able to speak. Understanding comes long before being able to speak a language and to me, both were difficult because my ear hadn't ever been exposed to another language. There are sounds that need to be heard that we don't listen for in English, there are sounds we need to make with our mouths that are really tricky if the mouth has never had to make those sounds before.
The highs were high--all of the time I had great experiences with the bike team that I was on. The long story of that can be found in this blog. Being on the team and making friends in the biking community was key for living the immersed life. No one spoke English so I had to learn Italian. And I also had to train and race. I had mixed emotions on that. When I quit racing three years ago, I had only reluctantly raced a few times since then. Training and racing is all-consuming. It is a lifestyle and doesn't leave much room for much of anything else. As long as one's friends ride or race, at least there is a great social aspect.
My desire to do one Gran Fondo race turned into something like 8 Gran Fondo races and uncountable training rides. The memories I brought back with me are from those days on the bike. There were so many great rides through the heart of Italy. Then there were the days when riding the bike was all I could do, trying to speak and comprehend a new language is initially very exhausting. Typically it was okay, but it's hard to feel that stupid when you know you're not. The Gran Fondos are super fun races. If you've been following along, you've read some of my stories.
If I were in Italy, I would continue to race. I was looking forward to racing this season (which, in Italy, started at the end of February). Racing with the men, doing long courses that are always gorgeous and continuously interesting on the terrain and having pasta parties after each are the main highlights of Gran Fondo racing that I miss in the races here in the U.S.
Mixing the great language, Italian bike racing and the adrenaline of racing made it good to go back to. It was where I was comfortable and happiest. Not having much competition with women wasn't bad, either. I'm just going to say it: I loved standing on the podium and winning things. I don't know how strong I was last season compared with my how strong my Colorado competition is, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be winning races here. It stayed fun and the pressure to do well wasn't there.
At around month 4 (July), I was starting to speak in simple sentences that would flow somewhat. July was so hot, it felt good to bask in the sun and get a tan. There was a pool that I got to go to a few times and it was high on a hill in the countryside. The landscape surrounding it was stunning.
Backing up a bit, the language class for the first three months was cool. I've discussed my classmates here before, but it's really important to reiterate it. I ate the best Chinese food I've ever tasted, made by the housewife from China who was taking Italian. I never quite understood why, but she and my other Chinese classmates were really sweet to include me in their circle.
The conflicts in Egypt and Libia have all new meaning to me. Every day I think about my Libian friends who I got to know in Italy and I think of their families. Of course, we all know that all people are the same and good people have compassion for all humans, but yet there's something different about knowing someone and realizing that this could be them in those pictures, they could be part of the fight. Likely, they are very affected by the current events of today. The world is a very small place and everyone is a neighbor.
How many countries mean more to me now? Every single one where I met someone and now, every time I hear the name of a country, the next thing I wonder is who is from that country? What is it like there? The public school system did its best to bore me out of ever caring about the rest of the world. I had a lot of good teachers, but unfortunately, every social studies class and every geography class was awful. I really detested maps. They were always associated with incredibly boring coursework. Now I love maps. Geography is incredibly interesting. How anyone teaches it so badly is beyond me. But, in a way I have them to thank. I never cared to travel the world, seemed silly and only for people who had lots of extra cash and no need to have a summer job. So I didn't travel until I was old enough to have enough life experiences to appreciate seeing the world through the eyes of one who had experienced being an adult for awhile. The stories I've heard of people who have gone away for a semester or more are cool. So many people formed who they were as adults based on what they learned while they were away.
The experience certainly offers book knowledge, that's obvious. There are so many other things that it teaches that no one can ever put on paper or describe. For as long as I live, I have the memories and lessons influencing every decision and every interaction. It's nothing that can ever be learned in school (quite the contrary) and certainly nothing that has a price.
Living out of a suitcase is a liberating feeling. I've been accused of being a vagabond more than once and I'm trying to figure out why it's such a bad thing. Being alone and traveling makes a person have to have complete confidence in oneself. You have to have everything you need inside yourself to enjoy traveling alone. Anyone who suspects a vagabond like myself of being one who is a wanderer, who doesn't know where they're going in life is one who simply doesn't understand. To do what I did meant that I had confidence that though every step was into unknown territory, I would be okay. My faith kept me strong when everything seemed too overwhelming and the future could absolutely not be seen.
Often I believe that by surrounding oneself with familiar people and objects, it's easy to create a very safe comfort zone. Staying within that place is certainly not bad, but it's the vagabond who is tested daily of whether or not they have what it takes inside to survive.
There are the more practical sides of living out of a suitcase, of course. It's a lot less to worry about, it's a lot less to lose if something were to happen. The value of stuff changes a lot. It's easy to realize that if it's possible to take a whole house full of stuff and whittle it down to a single suitcase of what's necessary for a year of living, none of it was really ever that important. My computer & camera were the two most valued possessions followed closely by comfortable shoes.
The best part of traveling light was that it allowed me to live much more flexibly. I learned to really value hostels. Shared spaces mean shared conversations. I remember the guy who I can't remember his name, but I remember that he was from Japan and traveling alone in Barcelona. We went out to dinner and had really good Catalan food, ordering the sampler dish that could only be served to two. It was a great dinner that I won't forget and nor will I forget when we were walking back to the hostel and there was a piano on the street available for anyone to play. The guys playing it let my new friend sit down and have a go at a tune. He ripped out an amazing piano concerto. The guys standing around loved it as did I. Had I stayed in a more expensive motel that night, I might have grabbed a quick bite at a take-out place and watched tv.
I am still living out of a suitcase and am walking around with a big hole in my jeans. This pair has literally worn out. It's a great feeling to know I got the full useful life out of something. The next new pair of jeans I buy will be a real treat to put on. There are so many other examples of simple things having a greater meaning. I remember when I had to learn how to drive stick shift. How would I find a car to practice with, how to rent a car even? I remember the jealousy - yes, jealousy - that I felt when I watched someone driving by. I couldn't believe how powerless I felt and to have feelings so foreign than those I have in the U.S. Of course, I would feel similar feelings when I heard an American speak good Italian. How easy we have it in our own country doing the things we're familiar with. Nothing will ever seem as hard as it did before going away.
I didn't have any explicit thoughts about what I'd do for a living when I'd get back to the States. It was a trip based on faith and allowing the future to create itself since it's impossible to engineer it as I'd tried to do in the past.
It's official that in the last year, not only was it a journey of another land--the land of my Italian ancestors, but also a chance to really clean the slate and allow things to fall into place without my interference.
Where does this leave me? Interestingly, in the Boston area, someplace I'd never thought about living. Heavy technical work is finally behind me and has been replaced with sales and marketing--creative jobs that I really enjoy. I've thrived on creative projects forever and have always known I wanted something that would allow me to be creative, but was wrong to think I'd find that by becoming an engineer. If I had to do it all again I would do exactly what I did, though, because it has been the enabler for the very interesting and rich life I've had so far.
What's next? There are a lot of other discoveries I've made concerning living with others and being part of a family. The decision to be here means being away from family, but considering there will be lots of chances to visit and over the past year, I've spent more consecutive time with them than I ever would have had I been living nearby during this period, everything just has to be looked at in the right perspective. Maybe I'll live there again, who knows. I have found a community and a place to live. If that place becomes a home, I will be happy. There's no way to know until time passes. I have a mad desire to be part of a family or something that looks like a family, but I am fine if that family isn't one of my own creation. The last two months of living with a family has been good to illustrate this. Just the local bike shop ride and hanging out with my co-workers during work fulfills so much of what I need in the way of community and family.
It was important to me to reflect on the past year. There are so many other highlights and low lights that I could share, but this is a good taste of almost everything. Thank you for everyone who made the last year possible, everyone who lent a smile or a hand, family for supporting from afar and those who are part of my new, extended family. I hope to have not just done all of this for myself, but it is for you, too. I'd keep this post in my private journal if it were mine to keep to myself.
It's my wish that everyone do something to force this sort of introspection, to really experience the world in whatever way works best. When is the last time you took a true, running leap into the unknown? Would you land right back to where you are or not? Doesn't take an international travel experience to do it. I also wish for you to think differently about the things you take for granted. Think a little harder about the people who are in the midst of crises in the world. Stop worrying about the stupid little things. And remember that almost everything is a little thing. When you jump in your car to run an errand, think about how different it would feel if you hadn't driven for a year. Stop to smell the roses, but do try to do it with someone else and the experience will be that much richer.
Take a moment to really think about how it would be that if, for the next year, you were to live somewhere else far from home all on your own.
What would you pack in your suitcase?
1 comment:
AMEN to that!
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