Ciao Italia...

Trip Start Oct 04, 2005
Trip End Ongoing

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Flag of Italy  ,
Sunday, July 30, 2006

As I walked down to the ferry terminal in Ischia, once again the pregnant turtle laden down with my packs, I felt a certain lightness that wasn't consistant with my present burden. I was on my oen again. On the road again. I was ready for an adventure, a change of pace, a new country. Once again I felt that thrill of knowing anything is possible. Am I destined to wander around forever? To always feel restless after staying in one place for too long? Who knows, really, but for now I am a true traveller - only completely happy when there's the prospect of new and exciting experiences around the corner. I spent five weeks in Italy and I keep telling myself that despite a patch of tired moodiness, I loved it. But did I really? Was I happy? To tell the truth, I odn't really know. There were days, moments, and people that really stick out in my mind, truly memorable experiences, but as a whole I don't think I was. For me, Italy was full of contradictions, confusions, and drama. I was exhausted and restless, I wanted to just chill out but also to party. I was floating. And even though my entire trip has been about just floating around, I knew what I wanted. At least in an abstract sense. With the idea of home being so far away, I could push the 'what next' thoughts to the back of my mind. I didn't have to worry about money yet. And though I kept changing my mind about when and where to go, at least I knew the types of places I wanted to see, what I was in the mood for. I knew myself. But somewhere in Italy I lost hold on that delicate strand of certainty - that one comfort that kept me grounded during all this wandering. Suddenly, without realizing exactly why, I found myself in an emotional tailspin and unable to take back control. All those questions about what I'm going to do with my life, when I'm going to go home, what I was even going to do in the next week came crashing down on me. I was overwhelmed and for the first time seriously thinking of just going home. I found myself waiting, but I wasn't sure for what or for whom...and it was driving me crazy. And then, I'm not entirely sure what did it, or when the breaking point was, but I just got fed up. I'd been siting in that lemon orchard for two weeks, and my body did need the rest, but I had gotten stuck. I wasn't there anymore because I wanted to be, but because I just couldn't bother to leave, and didn't know where to go anyway. I wasn't doing what I wanted anymore. I was letting otyhers determine my desires and my actions. This had to change. This was not me. So, I decided that I wanted to go to Ischia and then to Portugal and then Morocco. I wanted to see Pompei, a dream of mine since childhood, and then head out. I was tired of Italian men, the beautifully quaint little towns over-run by tourists, and beaches packed with candy-colored umbrellas. I reclaimed my trip, myself, and my vision for hte future. The world and my life wasn't completely uncertain anymore. So did I really love my time in Italy? Well, let me put it this way. These are the things I did love. Eating way to much gelato. My birthday in Rimini. Blood orange juice. Hiking the high path in Cinque Terra. Reading War and Peace in the Boboli Gardens. All the fireworks. Almost getting a tatoo. Italy winning the world cup. Wine on the beach. Wine in the square. Wine on the terrace. Getting lost among the lemon orchards in the hills around Amalfi. Cooking lessons. Wandering the ruins of Pompei. Staying up all night dancing and talking. BBQ night. The red moon over the sea in Amalfi. Relaxing, reading, and getting a killer tan on all sorts of beaches. The lightning storm and shooting star my last night in Ischia. Mama's cooking. Always listening to some sort of music that is always playing somewhere. Crazy busrides along the Amalfi Coast. Sunflower's. Limoncello. The hooka bar. Hilarious dancing at Life Bar and Rocco's. Hanging out in the square. Shopping at little fruit markets. Gaining a new appreciation for mussels. Champagne nights. Hammocks. Naps. Living up 250 stairs in a lemon grove. The morning espresso. Giggling at all the speedos. The adventure of sleeping in a train station. The Ring Hostel. Incredible views. Margherita pias and gnocchi al pesto. A beer while sitting on the Amalfi dock. Adam. Galen. Sarah. Charlie. Alie. Jake. Kris. Paul. Eef. Carolyn. Luigi. the other Jake. Devon. Francesco. Davide. Gloria. Katherine. George. The English girls. The Ozzie guys. Nathan. Jill. Miranda. Lorenzo. Annie. George the kid. The crazy guy in Amalfi square. And Smokey the cat.

I'd say it was a pretty good ride...
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dadofdivaboots on

good ride indeed
so good to read your stuff again! that emotional stalemate in Italy could be applied to many things in life. It would be a compelling theme for your first novel. But indeed it sounds like you had a good ride in Italy. Can't wait to read about Portugal...

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