I feel so grateful, as I write this, I am sitting in the ballroom of the House of the Blackheads in Riga Latvia. I am in the ballroom nearly alone, with my laptop, classical music playing, and drinking a cappuccino. The adult entrance fee for this museum was 7 euros, but for one extra euro, you could get a hot drink. There was no café to drink it in, the museum attendant said “bring it to the ballroom, sit on the furniture.” This is the opposite of what one is generally told in a historical museum. I felt as if I was being a rebel, but she encouraged me to live life like a queen. Now this is luxury.
As I sit here, I am close to tears. There is nothing sad, but tears of appreciation for moments like this. Quiet unexpected moments, where you feel as if you are royalty. To sit in an expansive ballroom, surrounded by chandeliers, paintings, classical music, wooden floors, and loads of history. I was being asked to slow down, indulge, and enjoy life.
My friend noted the other day how money affords expansiveness of time. We were discussing inflation in Lithuania (and the rest of the world). Years ago when things were cheaper, time was slower. He didn’t have to hurry, hustle, and work. Money stretched and so did time. And for me, this time affluence is a luxury. Each time I have it, I am so grateful.
Sitting here in Riga Latvia, after I checked out of my hotel, waiting for an evening flight, I have no plans and nothing but hours of time. Perhaps this is why I want to cry, out of a surprising moment of joy, where staff encouraged me to fully appreciate the abundance of time in a beautiful setting with a cappuccino. There is nothing better.
As I age, I realize tears arise more easily. Sometimes it’s sadness, struggle, anger, but often it’s moments of gratitude, appreciation, awareness of synchronicity, love, joy, serendipity, beauty, the bittersweet nature of life. Isn’t this what the fullness of life is about? We are to drink it all in. And I feel that is what I am doing with this cappuccino right now.
“The most precious resource we all have is time.” — Steve Jobs
Sometimes trips just aren’t what you have planned. This was the case this past week. Without getting into the details, I was left stranded in a country which I didn’t speak the language, 40 minutes from the city center by train, with a heavy bicycle, on a date that went bad who wanted me to go cycling in the sand. It’s been 8 years since I bicycled, and he thought bicycling in the sand would be a good idea. He left our trip together, and I was stranded to fend for myself navigating back to Riga on these trains from the Soviet Times. I had to lift a bicycle up and down these massive steps with doors that were difficult to open. Luckily strangers helped me in this moment bring the bike in before the train doors closed. When the train worker came by so I could pay for my ticket, I said “Riga.” She said No! She didn’t speak English, and a passenger said in broken English. “Wrong way, how did you do this?” I didn’t know. It was a moment I wanted to break down and cry. I had to get off at the next stop, and do this all over again for the next train on the opposite track. I was stuck carrying this heavy bicycle in a land where I didn’t know the language and I physically had to have strangers help me. My date left me stranded, but I was so kind that in broken English people could help me. It was definitely a rom com go bad moment, where things must shift and get better.
I am so grateful in moments like this for humans that are willing to help. Although they didn’t know how much it meant to me at those times, when I felt alone and hurt, their physical presence in assisting me meant the world. I know I will pay it forward in the future, as the saying says “we are all just walking each other home.”
“Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
I pilgrimaged to the Black Madonna in Einsiedeln today. I originally was travelling to Zurich in order to visit the small country of Lichtenstein. Then, I realized, there was a Black Madonna here that Carl Jung previously visited and wrote about. It was the Black Madonna that was closest in distance to him, and therefore he wrote about Her. Upon hearing this, I knew where my next pilgrimage would be to. But the journey actually began the week prior.
I had just returned home from a group pilgrimage to the Black Madonna in Italy. I had messaged to confirm with someone I hired from an online app in regards to my dog’s upcoming stay with her. But she cancelled last minute. I struggled to find a new sitter during the height of summer, searching both online and in person. I made numerous requests, including to a friend that lived in Paris who I offered to fly out to Spain. Eventually, prayers were answered. Someone who attended my sound healing class, Manuella, offered to watch Bella. Hearing this meant the world to me.
In this moment, I noted this is where I need to invest in community. I realize being somewhat nomadic, I develop loads of acquaintances but minimal friends. What I truly need at times like these are friends, and having someone offer was so heartfelt. Manuella had come to multiple sound baths, and felt various forms of healing that occurred from then. Although she didn’t state this, I felt she actually was paying back the favor in watching Bella. She was just driving back from France, her home country, the same day I dropped off Bella. Words couldn’t describe how precious and impactful this was. I realized this dog sitting component and numerous other factors all lined up for this to happen. The ease of the train ride, having an entire row to myself on the plane, waking up to my lipstick on my hand in the shape of a heart, having free wifi (since my mobile network isn’t functioning), and the ability to feel safe in a foreign land like Switzerland.
My pilgrimage to Einsiedeln may have been one day long but included walks, a plane ride, and train rides (one that had three transfers). I got minimal sleep due to an early flight, late dog drop off the night prior, and a bit of travel stress that prevented me from falling asleep promptly. On an extended train layover, I opted to get a pretzel baguette filled with curry falafel. The concept of this meal didn’t make sense, numerous cultures hodgepodged together in one sandwich. I hopped on the train and ate this delicious cultural mystery. It was so tasty, and now I had the souvenir of the curry smell all over me.
As I arrived in Einsiedeln, I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to the Abbey. I stepped off the train, walked into the quaint picturesque Swiss town and stumbled into a hiking clothing store. The worker greeted me in German, and I showed her a screenshot I took of the Einsiedeln Abbey. “How do I get here?” I asked. I spoke no German, she walked outside with me to show me where to go so I wouldn’t be confused. I was curious how far would this be. She pointed left and she said, “It’s easy, easy, easy. You walk 1 ½ minutes and you are right there.” I laughed. It wasn’t what I expected. Why step out of the store to show me the directions of where to walk for a 1 minute journey? But I deeply appreciated it. It was as if she was a guide who magically appeared reminding me, “You are almost there” or “It’s only as hard as you make it out to be.”
I finally arrived at the Abbey. The smell of flowers in a mini casita that surrounded her was poignant. The excess of flowers and Her gorgeous sparkly blue gown must have been from the Assumption only one week before. It was apparent that I must have really smelled like curry, which was juxtaposed to the heavenly floral scent. I kneeled in front of the Black Madonna, felt welcomed curry and all, and I cried. I internally heard her say to me, “It’s okay. You can relax now.”
I don’t know if this “relax” statement was in regards to the numerous modes of transportation I endured for the day, the struggle of finding a sitter for Bella, or for receiving word that I had gotten a new dream job the week prior, the culmination of seeing 7 Black Madonnas the preceeding weeks. The smells of the flowers brought back reminders of the floral scents in wakes and funeral of loved ones I have lost. This Black Madonna was different than others. She had round cheeks, felt sweet, regal, and was inclusive of the knowledge and wisdom that both my Ninang and Lola had, and one day my grandmother, mother, and maybe me. I cried and felt held.
The Black Madonna looked as if she was the Queen of the Sea and the Night, in her flashy blue sparkly dress. Her attire changes dependent on what the staff members choose to dress her in for the occasion. I felt lucky that I was visiting in what seemed to be a celebratory occasion. Time passed as I observed Her, and I felt a tiny tension headache arising. I heard Her say to me, “Take care of yourself and come back. Don’t be greedy, let other people have time with me.” These are words mothers would say, the truth laced with sweet kindness and unconditional love. Take care of my needs, which included drinking water and taking bathroom break, buy some souvenirs and come back. This is what I did.
I am learning to have a different experience with Her this past month. It’s different than the past, of just thinking of problems or things I want when I visit a new church or see another Black Madonna. It’s as if I was putting an order in the universe. Now as I sat in front of her, I tried to listen to my body. How did my body feel in Her presence? What was being said? What images or intuitive hits am I receiving? I generally ensure I sit as close to her as possible, and take time to journal in front of her to note all that is arising.
If I really listened, I began to discern how each Black Madonna has a different feeling. Her facial expressions are different and what She stands for is different. The energy She commands and the people that are devotees of her are all different. But it’s taken solitude and inquiry to explore what is truly arising in this moment.
As I left the church, a little Indian boy grabbed my hand, as I walked past a café. His parents laughed and apologized for him. I am not sure what he saw in me. The gold I wore that was shiny and flashy, something playful in my youthful walk, someone brown in a sea of whiteness therefore I looked familiar. I too laughed it off, but was curious what did he know, what did he see? Maybe he was someone who simply wanted to share his joy for that moment, with a stranger.
I write this now in a café, accessing some free wifi, and another stranger is kind enough to let me use her charger (as I brought the wrong kind). She was Albanian, living in Italy, and staying with her family in Zurich. She offered this, when she saw me struggling trying one usb charger after another on the whole floor of this coffee shop. She said, “we all need to charge our devices.” It was another reminder that we are here to support each other on this journey of life, whether it’s a passing stranger offering a usb, a young boy giving a gentle nudge of the hand, store worker going out of her way to give directions, or an acquaintance offering to watch your dog. Oftentimes we see how we give to the world, but how often do we see how the world gives back to us?
If I continue to have a soft gaze as I interact with the world today, I will notice the grace that arises in my interactions with all that I meet. I will see the connection all of us have, and the longing for something more. There’s a sense of gratitude as I engage with the world, knowing I am supported by the Black Madonna, all travel guides, angels, and the kindness of strangers.
On my return flight of my 2 ½ week trip to Italy, I lost my leather bound journal. Actually, I left it on the plane. I didn’t realize this until hours later, when I was at home. And my first thoughts were, I hope the person who finds the journal will be excited and use it.
I had this journal for two years, and recently found it in storage when I was in the states. It was given to me as a birthday gift from my mother, and had an inscription from mother to mother on the front. But the extra special meaning was I took it on my pilgrimage to various Black Madonnas in Italy. Inside the brown leather cover were images of the Black Madonna I collected throughout the week, postcards from various churches. In some ways, it had a dual purpose meaning. It was my biological mother who gave it to me, but the ultimate mother was also gifting it to me.
As I realized I lost it, I wished that whoever finds the journal would find peace and the Black Madonna will watch over them. Maybe this “losing the journal” was a serendipitous event that will bring the finder comfort or joy. Not just in the beauty of the journal, but the images inside.
There were no steamy or juicy secrets written in there. All that was written were reflections and insights gained, potential plans for the future. The rest of the journal had empty pages, futures unwritten. I hope the person who finds it writes in the journal, continues to reflect on their hopes and dreams, and chooses to lean on the Black Madonna for support and guidance.
As I prepare for this next part of my life, I realize I must let go of attachments to things, journals, ideas, and goals. In order for transformations to be made, we must let go and shed old versions of ourselves. In losing this, I am letting go of the old me’s hopes, dreams, and allowing space for the new to enter.
I took the photo above the day before I lost my journal in front of the Black Madonna in Bologna. I spent an hour sitting in front of her, free writing, journaling, and crying. Crowds of people would come in and out, but I remained seated in front of her. In between crying, a stranger looked at me and said “thank you for everything.” We didn’t talk before this or exchange glances. Maybe he just appreciated my energy and devotion. He was dressed in pink and maroon, and thought he was an image or reminder of the divine masculine. And after he said this to me and left the sanctuary, I cried even more. It was a beautiful chance encounter with a stranger that lasted minutes. Therefore, I hope the tears of comfort and realizations blessed in this journal will bring whoever finds it inspiration, joy, and protection.
This past week I was in Bologna Italy. It’s a city I have been in before years ago, and was primarily coming here so I could explore the country: San Marino. I didn’t have much plans to do in Bologna, but to wander around town and rest, as I processed the earlier parts of my journey. Perhaps I would get some Bolognese, where it was invented.
On the afternoon I arrived, I stumbled onto this park. It wasn’t very big, and was quite mundane. It was a hot early August day, and people sought relief from the sun by the shades of the trees. Some homeless men lied on benches, there was some a sprinkling of young men gathering and smoking marijuana, teenagers chatted and played cards, a barefoot toddler cried as his mother took him away from the fountain as he didn’t want to leave his playground. But as I walked further, I found a tranquil café. Chilled out Radiohead style music set the atmosphere. I sat down and observed what was occurring around me. A young skateboarder was being chaperoned and cheered by his mother, who had a newborn baby in her arms. Young lovers kissed, as if nobody else could knew they were there. Older men sat at a table drinking beer as they caught up, large dogs napped on the ground next to their owners. A tired bicycle food delivery man napped on a bench. Children played on a mini playground, which was next to a book exchange. A young boy sighed as he missed the basketball hoops, while taking shots. Two people one wouldn’t picture as friends played checkers, while another woman waited at a nearby table to play the winner. The waitress greeted regulars. A variety of races and ethnicities were represented in the people I observed.
There was nothing special about this park, but this is what brought tears to my eyes. I found universality in this park. These exact activities are happening in parks all over the world. Parks serve as a place of tranquility as we seek refuge from the sun. I felt so grateful I could witness it. This was not a tourist park, there was nothing fancy to see, but what I witnessed warmed my heart. I felt so grateful that in this year, I’ve been able to go to similar parks in New York City, Paris, New Orleans, Malaga, Bulgaria, North Macedonia, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles to see the same thing. I know if I lived in this city, I would probably be walking my dog Bella everyday here and taking comfort in the shade.
Sometimes it’s in these simple moments of witnessing the similarities in humanity that makes me so grateful for life. Despite language barriers, customs, ethnicities, age, or eras our everyday lives may be more similar than we expect. There is beauty in this, and we forget. We are tricked by the disguises we wear, the superficiality we see in our skin tones or clothes that grace our bodies. Essentially we are the same, and if we could only see that, there would be such peace. We all yearn for connection, comfort, joy, and love. And the more we can see past the superficiality, we could access this common thread that unites us all.
In a recent Brazilian dance workshop I attended, we had to “cut” in and break up two people dancing. There was no hard feelings, as this was part of the process to have your place in the center with a person you wanted to dance with. How we asked the other person to leave, is we opened our arms and had our belly buttons touch. This welcomed in one, as the other left the group and went back to the outer circle. It was very intimate, warm, and jolly. The universal thread of the umbilical cord that binds us all. This is the image that arises as I reflect on those quiet moments in the park on that sunny summer day in Bologna. There’s unification in the mundane, and if we can recall this, a joyful smile may grace our faces.
A friend once told me, there are three things you need to travel. You will never have all three at once, so if you have two of the three do it. These are money, time, and health. I never forgot this, and seem to live each year by this.
Years ago, when I first met my ex-husband, we would take weekend trips with our English bulldog Puzo from New York to Connecticut to spend time with his parents. They were Sicilian on both sides, and although they didn’t speak the language, everything was 100% Italian. This was in how they interacted with each other, the delicious meals they prepared, wine they drank, desserts we lingered on, cooking shows we watched, and their love for all things Italian.
What I found interesting is only Anthony’s father had been to Italy. His mother, Frankie, had a wish to travel to Italy when she retired. She dreamed when this day would occur, the landmarks she would visit, the ancestral land she would walk on, and all the cuisine she would memorize to share in her stories with others. There were elusive plans made, but nothing concrete. Frankie never got the opportunity. Cancer returned for the second time before retirement, spread quickly, and she died in her sixties.
I think of that often, and tell others as a warning. We dont know how much time we will have left on this earth, if you want to go somewhere, do it. Nothing is guaranteed.
I am in Italy as I write this. This 2 ½ week trip has included visits to Lampedusa, Naples, Pompeii, Positano, Amalfi Coast, Campania region, Bologna, and San Marino (another country existing in Italy). I have lost track over the years how many times I have come to Italy, but I believe it’s my 14th or 15th trip. Even though I have been here for numerous trips, I never forget how lucky I am to be here. I am not even Italian, and I have been able to travel to this land so frequently with ease.
People wait their whole lives to do one trip, as I am doing right now. Some never make it, like Frankie. I’m aware of this, and I do want to honor her as I take this trip. Her birthday would have been today, a fiery Leo. I shared with Anthony how I thought of his mom recently on this trip when in Lampedusa, as I saw various Sicilian images. I knew she would have been enamored by all the ceramic colorful pieces, and he said maybe she is here with me. I would hope so. I would like to think wherever she is on the other side, she’s been able to transport herself to Italy. Prior to Anthony and I separating, we made a handful of trips to Italy, including Sicily. These were journeys he had to do, as he didn’t want to waste anymore time. I am sure she was there in spirit as well.
I travel for myself, but I also travel to inspire others. I want to share that we can explore exotic lands, where we don’t speak the language. It may not always be easy, but it will be filled with wonder. There is nothing to be afraid of and this is not something you should put off until retirement. Make it work, whether your dream is Italy, Egypt, Hawaii, South America, or Asia. The adventurer in me is trying to pull out the adventurer in you. You may not aspire to join the Travel Century Club, as I am, but allow yourself to dream of that one place to you have always longed to go to. Make concrete plans for this to occur. Travel is an investment that will last a lifetime. You don’t want to be on your deathbed, wishing you would have taken that one trip. Do it now. Remember the three things you need to travel: money, time, and health. If you have two of them, book that trip. You won’t regret it.
Did you ever watch those romantic comedies on Netflix, where an everyday woman who is a reporter, hairdresser, or pr person happens to stumble upon meeting a prince of a picturesque land you never heard of? The film captures the atmosphere as charming and quaint, and you wonder does this place even exist?
Oftentimes, as an American I envision going to a European city to find a hidden castle and lush land, maybe even a prince. I visit these places, and although they are interesting, I am tiny bit disappointed. Those locations are not always what I imagine a kingdom to be. I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived in San Marino, but I was sure that San Marino was a land of fairytales.
Top 10 Reasons San Marino is a Land of Fairytales
1.Butterflies
Everywhere I went there seems to be butterflies soaring around me, I couldn’t help but wonder is this where butterflies head on their days off from the Italian countryside. The only other place where I witnessed butterflies dancing was on the Camino de Santiago, a special place of pilgrimage. I tried to take photos or videos of these butterflies, but it was as if they were playing hide and seek with me. Having them walk along my path throughout the day, reminded me to be present, and take in the wonder.
2. The Public Palace
This parliament building is picturesque with guards in old time clothes doing duty at the front doors. But these guards aren’t as strict as those in other countries, they lean versus having erect postures. They say “ariverdeci” when you leave the building. They are progressive, as I even saw a female guard entering the building when I left. In addition, the council room is a stunning masterpiece, with mythological characters on every wall. I wouldn’t mind working and daydreaming here. An additional interesting fact, the leader of parliament changes every 6 months to ensure nobody has too much power.
3. Tower 1
This place was stunning with Game of Throne style views everywhere you turn. As you climb the tower walls, Tower 2 peaks in the background. Although this was a place that held prisoners, it seemed to catapult you to another world, as staff played mesmerizing classical music to send you back in time.
4. Esoteric Stores
The first store I walked into had images and statues for sale of Egyptian gods and goddesses, the Green Man, Celtic and Nordic Symbols, pendulums, and numerous crystals. I thought I had stumbled to the one and only store in this town, but there were many that sold crystals, mala bracelets, and even various tarot cards.
5. Fairys, Black Cats, Knights Templar, and Fortuna
It seemed as if every other tourist shop sold these fairytale like images and statues. I knew as one walked the earth here you felt, as if you were stepping into a Disney film. But I couldn’t help but question if there was another reason why all these images were sold here. Was there magic that once existed in this area? Tourists felt it when they came here and gravitated towards buying these trinkets. But did other entities have a connection here decades before?
6. Swords and Shields
I wasn’t clear why there were so many stores that sold guns, swords, and shields. I am a peaceful person, not into any of this paraphernalia. But I was curious if young men who visited here, felt pulled to harness their inner King Arthur. The store owners didn’t want to leave out young girls, because there were toy shields that had a unicorns as crests that were available for purchase.
7. The Woods
If you stepped outside of the tourist area, and allowed yourself to wander, you would find beautiful trees that surrounds the grounds. Although this land was small, there was refuge to be found under the shade of the trees. As I walked through them, I looked up at the looming towers above, signifying greatness. I felt as if I was walking on mystical land, as I passed by butterflies before I took the cable car up to the top of the town. There were tunnels in the woods, that a small trolley drove through. The area once had a train that went from Rimini to San Marino, but was destroyed during World War II. It was also at that time, that these tunnels served as hiding spots for families escaping Italy. What happened to those families? How did the tunnels and the surrounding woods care for them during those strenuous times?
8. Dogs
San Marino is extremely dog friendly. It surprised me that people brought a dog onto a bus from Rimini to San Marino. Families didn’t want to leave their pets at home, as they knew their dogs would enjoy the wonder of this land as well. As a dog owner, I know I am biased but the abundance of dogs added to the magic here.
9. Affordability
Everything seems affordable in San Marino, at least on my one day trip. Prices are low due to the decreased taxes. In addition, I had a several course fancy meal, with a large bottle of sparkling water, overlooking the beauty of the kingdom for 25 euros. I decided to splurge and eat several courses for lunch, even if I was alone. I could have spent hours looking out onto the scenic views from my table. Every morsel was delicious, particularly these potatoes that were buttered to perfection.
10. You Feel Like Royalty
Wherever you walked at the top of San Marino, you felt regal. One couldn’t help but look out onto the Italian countryside, and be enamored by the view. With each step you took, regardless if the road was going uphill or downhill, you couldn’t help but gasp at the views. There were tourists, but it wasn’t overcrowded. And for a moment, you could feel that maybe in another lifetime you ruled the land here.
For those interested in coming here, it is 90 minute drive from Bologna. I rarely drive overseas, therefore I took a 90 minute air conditioned train ride from Bologna Centrale to Rimini. The cost was 10.80 euros each way. From Rimini, across the train station, you can buy bus tickets from Rimini to San Marino. Tickets are 6 euros each way, but a special existed for 20 euros, which also included a one way cable car ticket and a trolley ride. To find out more, check out this website www.bytrainsanmarino.com
Rome is stately and impressive; Florence is all beauty and enchantment; Genoa is picturesque; Venice is a dream city; but Naples is simply — fascinating. – Lilian Whiting
I can’t say I ever really knew Naples. Years ago I went to Naples with my ex-husband, it was a layover towards our trip on the Amalfi coast. We didn’t get out of the hotel much, except to get pizza. We heard rumors of the lack of safety, saw the trash that aligned the streets, and chose the safety and comfort of our hotel room. This time, I debated this, would I just use Naples as a resting layover? I originally planned to stay in my room and rest in between trips. But I am so glad I pushed myself. I ventured to Pompeii en route to taking a flight to Lampedusa. There was such richness, beauty, and questions on the remains that I walked among. I was filled with wonder and awe of what I had witnessed. Upon returning from Lampedusa, I would have one night in Naples before I would meet with a group I was planning to take a pilgrimage with. I wanted to make the most out of this opportunity as well.
I was staying by the train station, and although it was convenient for transportation, it wasn’t the most spectacular way to be welcomed by a city with homeless people lining the McDonalds by the train entrance. I heard warnings to watch my belongings, and so I walked quickly to get to my hotel. My food choices were only partially based on reviews, but primarily I wanted to eat as close as possible to the hotel, so I could rush back.
“…the city of Naples was like this: wonderful from a distance, but when seen close up, it was fragmentary, indefinable, and coarse…” ― Franco Di Mare, The Paradise of the Devils
Yet for the morning I wanted an adventure. As I walked towards the historical center, I realized Naples is a city that is misunderstood, or in reality, it’s complex. Yes, there is the crime factor, the mafia, but there are layers of immigrants here, diversity, old castles, and beautiful streets that are lined with laundry that is hung to dry. Trash is everywhere, but they are next to little cafes serving lemoncellos or cappacinos.
That morning, I allowed myself to have time to wander into a store to buy this fabulous yellow hat that replaced my hat which was worn out from the previous week. There was a church I walked into that seemed more of a food bank storage than a place of worship. I was led to the local Cathedral, lit candles for both my grandmother and dog, and took in the beauty.
I ventured to the Cathedral, modern art museum, and the birthplace of pizza at L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele. I waited in line for 35 minutes for a takeaway pizza, as I yearned to see what the hype was about. Since 1870 this restaurant has been serving pizza. There were four choices to choose from, and an entire pizza cost 5.50 euros. Crust was extremely thin, the slices were not cut up, but it tasted delicious. I could only devour half of the pizza, but on the way to my hotel I dropped off the other half to one of the homeless individuals I saw earlier that day.
On summer days in southern Italy the heat and sun can be excessive, and one should also expect that there may be no air conditioning. *Travel tip for Americans travelling to Europe for the first time. I’ve learned over the years that some Europeans don’t truly believe in air conditioning, as they feel it’s bad for your health. Air conditioning is a luxury, but for some it’s avoided at all costs. Travelling may not always be comfortable, but it’s at times part of the process. The point of travel is to get out of your comfort zone, your everyday life, witness how another part of the world lives.
“If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.”-Anthony Bourdain
It’s been 6 days in my 21 day journey, and I knew the time had come. I needed to go to a laundromat. This is something I have avoided when travelling. I think it’s been awhile since I travelled for an extended amount of time and wasn’t visiting family or friends. It’s not an irrational fear to avoid public laundromats in foreign countries while travelling. There was a reason. Years ago, I was robbed. Yes, in my twenties while backpacking Europe for three months, a friend and I went to a laundromat in Florence. I didn’t think much of it as I stuffed my clothes in a machine, I must have only placed my wallet down for 2 minutes. When I looked back, it was gone. Gone was the money and credit cards, but luckily the passport was in the hotel. I was so grateful my friend Crystal was travelling with me during this portion of the journey. It was a three month solo backpacking trip, but for two different portions, I met up with friends. We could lean on Crystal’s credit cards, until I could wait for a replacement card to be sent to the next hotel. Ever since then, I avoid public laundromats at all costs while travelling.
But I was now in Italy again in the middle of summer. My clothes were quite disgusting of discovery days full of sweat. The hotel didn’t have a laundry service. I had no other choice. This was the prime time to do laundry, I was on the chilled out island of Lampedusa. I didn’t dare do laundry in Naples, where I was returning to. And so viola, I headed to the laundromat.
Although it was only 930 am, it was already in the 90s. I was filled with sweat on my walk, and upon arrival at the laundromat I noted all were full. There were three machines, one was broken, and two were in use. I would wait for the remaining 17 minutes. First I waited inside, but there was no air circulation, I could only feel the hot air of the machines doing their jobs. One woman folded her laundry, with a hair wrap to keep the sweat from her face. We commented on the heat, her in Italian, me in pantomime.
This was my opportunity to reframe the experience. I brought a book to read as I used my Spanish abanico to cool me down. This wouldn’t be so bad. Eventually the time came for me to load the wash, and after I did, I sat outside waiting for the time to pass. Another woman sat outside with me waiting for her load in the dryer. She wore all white, a white fitted tee shirt and white ripped jeans that seemed to have a faint stain of coffee in the back. I had seen her earlier on the phone, talking to someone on the phone. It was most probably her husband, as she rolled her eyes in desperation and leaned over a table looking exasperated. I don’t know if her dramatic attempts were for me, if she thought her partner could see this on the phone, or it was the only way to act out with her partner in public privacy.
There were many older men hanging in the streets at this hour. I wondered if they were there because it was yet to be high noon and stores were open, or they left their homes so the women could do the house work. Maybe one of those men was her husband. This could be why this woman was acting over the top, she felt I could relate to her experience as a woman doing laundry in a hot laundromat on a Sunday.
We sat on a bench outside, she offered a cigarette. I politely declined, but thought to myself “how Italian.” We are cleaning our clothes so they can smell fresh and clean, but her laundry would then be folded with her nicotine covered hands.
I appreciated her warm gesture of the cigarette, perhaps she wanted to connect in the only way she knew how due to the disparity in our verbal communication. Maybe I should have taken the cigarette, even though I don’t smoke, to accept her kindness. This was a corrective experience from my previous Italian theft laundromat story. Now it was a moment of connection with a stranger, we sat commiserating in the heat, two women waiting for our laundry on a Saturday afternoon.
It Only Takes A Smile 