“Love all, trust few, do wrong to none”. ~William Shakespeare
Friday August 20, 2016
I am exhausted. I am weary. I still am at a loss for what to do.
The other morning, I woke up in Venice (BEAUTIFUL place by the way) and got an email saying that the hostel in Croatia I was supposed to start work at next week canceled and my place to stay that night canceled.
I remember reading the messages, my heart sinking. A lump in my throat rose slowly. I was looking forward to being able to stay in one place for awhile again. And now I had no place tonight either.
I was counting on having a solid place to stay so I didn’t have to keep moving so much. Hostel life again. I needed it.
Now I had nothing. Nothing but a blank canvas. It was a both exciting and terrifying feeling. The feeling that I could go anywhere.
I could go “home” whenever that is and try to find a real job… But how would I know where home was? What if I chose the wrong town to stay in.
My head was spinning out of control. I tucked my legs in close to my chest and laid my forehead on my knees.
Where do I go next? What do I do?
I remember someone a couple days back was raving about Florence. Perfect. I’ll go there. Something is waiting for me there.
I shot out a few couchsurf requests and booked a BlaBlaCar for 2pm and went to get a sketchbook and charcoal pens at a fancy little shop I saw in my wandering a the other day. The time has come. I need to distress. I need art. I need expression.
I left Venice too quick, some would say. Yes. I think I did. But I was not in a good mindset to stay. When I get upset, I run. Simpleton thoughts though, because they always follow you. Your thoughts. Your worries. Your fears.
But I left anyway. Needed a bright and beautiful new place to distract my mind.
And wow Florence won me over quickly. The vibes. The energy. The people. The food. The cobblestone streets and old buildings, reminiscent of medieval times. The unbelievable sunset.
But I am feeling the weight of this trip today. My shoulders ache from lugging the way too heavy clunker everywhere I go. My heart and soul still spinning, trying to catch up with all the moments of this long 3 month trip. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the unexpected, the scary, the disappointing.
I am a traveler. Not a tourist. I wander to different places to meet the people of the cities. I live for couchsurfing. I want to know how it was growing up in Rome or London or Barcelona or Florence. It’s bonkers to me that all this stuff that is so magical and breathtaking to me is simply the backdrop of everyday live for them.
I live for the nights I get to help in the kitchen with my CouchsurfEr, sipping wine. Sharing a meal. Talking about this and that and everything under the sun and more. Board games are brought out. Music is played. Laughter is shared. I find the moon for everyone. Sometimes we venture out of the house to explore their cities streets.
I don’t travel to see the touristic things. Sure I’ll give them a go, but I want to know why locals love this city. The secret gardens. The gross dive bar where they go to every week and they are known by everyone inside.
I want to know where to catch the best sunsets and find the most shooting stars. The beautifully broken down, abandoned buildings. The graveyards.
I want to know how you celebrate Christmas or whatever holiday you do happen to celebrate in December. How do you ring in the new year? What’s your spirit animal? What is something you could do for hours and hours later you realize you forgot to eat because you were so into it? What’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened? When was the last time you cried? When you drift off during boring work meetings where does your mind go? What song makes you sad? What song gets you up in the morning? Where do you go to my lovely, when you’re alone in your bed.. I love that song…
Or better yet, don’t tell me, show me. Show me your wild world. Let me in. Let’s adventure together. You can trust me.
Those are the things I want on this trip. Connections. Friends. The oddly beautiful process if going from perfect strangers to good friends. Sometimes I challenge myself and find someone very unlike me and try to see what connections we can make. Sometimes I choose ones who seem to fit the mood I want to experience in that particular city.
You see, I love people. All their quirks. Even the assholes can be quite intriguing. How did you get to be where you are? What kind of text can make you smile immediately?
If I am enjoying ones company, I could care less about leaving the place we are at. I am just fine staying right there in their living room, on their terrace, on the hillside overlooking the alps, on the dock, our feet dangling in the water. In Warsaw, I never saw much of the town because I was having the time of my life meeting all the local polish people when my CouchsurfEr had a party. In Interlaken, I never set foot inside the city except the train station. I spent my time in farther out tiny villages and way up high in the alps.
I chose to stay home tonight. My CouchsurfEr went out. I feel drained. Soulless. Boring. Broken Sad. Lost. No idea where to go next after Naples on Sunday. Should I run away to Cambodia? Go to my friend in London? Check out Croatia anyway? I need rejuvenation. I need a magical adventure or a beautiful stranger or a sweet lover. Or just sleep. And a hug would be nice too..
I want memories. I want connection. I want friends. Sure I’d love to have a lover, but I am not looking for it. This is my trip. This is what I want.
And for a bit longer at least, I will wander aimlessly though gorgeous Italy, befriending beautiful strangers. Moving on to the next place that is suggested and calls to my heart.
We all start off as strangers…