|A store front in Siena, Tuscany.|
I spent the last two weeks of my trip in Italy, which was never part of the plan. Actually, there is a rather major twist in this story that I have not yet written about publicly.
For so long it was tenuous, so imagined and uncertain and tender with hope that I didn’t feel like I could share it. As it was unfolding, it was risky to give away the details, since I was sure to sound more and more like the hopeless romantic than I am. But there is crystal clarity at this moment, and to hell with sounding crazy because if we can't be crazy when we're in love there is very little else worth loosing our senses over. So far it all unfolded better than I ever could have imagined and at this point I’m ridiculously happy for so many reasons.
Not to mention, this is a great story. It deserves a place in this little collection of snapshots of my life. It enhanced and changed everything about the second half of my trip, so it’s not right to leave it out of this little travel journal I’m creating. And you all deserve to hear it too, those of you who have been paying attention and following this incredible part of my life so faithfully.
The short version of this story involves a Greek island, a handsome stranger and a shared love of maps and traveling. From that afternoon on Lipsi, there was driving all along the coast of Ireland, wandering in Spain, lots of late night Facebook messages and Skype conversations, online Italian lessons and finally ten days in Italy with my own personal tour guide, who by that point also happened to be my boyfriend.
|A village on Lago di Garda in the Alps, also the |
northernmost point where citrus grows year round
I realize there are probably a few people out there – myself 6 months ago included – saying, “wait, wait – hold on. I thought this trip was about the exact opposite than falling in love. What about all that stuff you wrote about feeling like an awesome, sexy, independent woman traveling and loving spending time investing in herself again?” The only thing I can really say to all of that is that this could be another example of the best kind of love coming when you’re looking for it least? This was not the plan, in fact I actively fought against this development because I was having such an amazing time being on my own. But thank god for Gabriele’s persistence and my romantic heart, because I am astounded and utterly delighted by this development in my life.
When Gabriele first told me, while we were walking back to Kostas’ on Lipsi after our second day together, that I should come visit him in Italy I laughed good naturedly. I thought of course that sounded very nice, but was invested on keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground far away from crazy love town at that point. So I said something like “Sure. We’ll see what happens.”
Four months later, as my plane made a bumpy landing in Milan, my stomach was in a worse knot than the day I arrived in Reykjavik six months beforehand. Anticipation like that only comes from the best places, and even the traffic of Milan couldn’t bring down my mood once I was on the ground.
Anyone who knows’ me knows my three favorite things in the world are red wine, spaghetti and romance, which means Italy is probably the most dangerous (also incredible) place in Europe for me to visit. And it did not disappoint one bit. I mean, I was lucky enough to have a tour guide with a car and the ability to read maps and plan adventures to the same crazy degree as I like. We didn’t go to Rome or Florence, but it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to explore and experience the back roads and smaller villages of the Alps and Tuscany.
|A hike through the Dolomites, in the German-speaking Alpine region of Italy.|
We didn’t bother spending much time in Milan, a few hours walking around the city was enough before we headed north east, towards the Alpine lakes and German-speaking valleys of Trentino Alto. We explored sunny villages along the shores of Lago di Garda – the northernmost place in the world where citrus grows – and stayed in the shadows of the Dolomites. After a few days of hiking and driving over the high mountain passes, we descended again to Venice.
I’ve heard a lot of mixed reviews on Venice. Most Italians have told me that it’s crowded, hot and stinky. I’ve heard groans about the water and the cost of keeping the city standing. But all of that is always followed by the admission that one really has to go there at least once in their life because in the end it’s really incredible.
And, my god: Venice is truly a wonder. It was a chilly, overcast winter day when we visited, but I think that actually worked in our favor. I don’t know how many tourists can say they got a seat on the ferry through the Canal Grande or found themselves actually being the only ones in a back street of the city. Because of the season, Venice wasn’t insanely crowded so we were able to leisurely take in the atmosphere of the elegant, magical place. I’m a sucker for historic, romantic places and you really can’t get much better that the gondoliers, elegant alleyways, mask-filled store fronts and general grandeur of Venice. I almost don’t ever want to go back because it was such a good day I’m afraid I’ll break the spell that we captured on that January afternoon.
|Over Canal Grande in Venice.|
We spent another day in transit between Mestre – the city just outside of Venice, from where we took the bus into the lagoon – and Siena, stopping in Ferrara and briefly glimpsing the sprawl of Florence along the way. Arriving in Tuscany was almost surreal in how similar it felt to Napa Valley, which I suppose makes sense: wine country is wine country. Except for the villages; the villages of Tuscany are beautiful and unique and the best way to see them all is by car.
|Tuscany village life|
|The villages of Tuscany are a blur, but this is one of them.|
I could write about each village we stopped in, the towers of San Gimignano or the still hills around the Archabbey of Monte Oliveto Maggiore, but it’s really all a blur of twisting alleyways, brown stone buildings, so many coffee bars for a shot of espresso, lunches with a glass of red wine – “I’m in Tuscany, right? Why not?” – and delicious food. Tuscany had all the details I would have expected it to, and didn’t disappoint me in the least.
We decided that we would spend more time exploring the cities and landscapes than visiting museums and galleries on this trip. And it was perfect for us: there probably isn’t a better place in the world to fall in love than the Italian countryside.
|Our final morning in Tuscany|
On the last day of traveling, we hurried through Pisa (because, well, the tower and stuff) towards the Mediterranean coast to Cinque Terre, the five villages perched along the rocky, cliff-covered shoreline where many people hike during the summer.
Gabriele and I walked down the steep streets of Manarola and sat at the edge of the ocean, much like the first afternoon we met on Lipsi, while we quietly watched the sunset. We kept looking at each other and the ocean spread out before us – the one which would soon separate us – baffled and blissfully amazed at the place where life brought us. It was basically a given at this point, but we both reiterated that night that the chance which brought us together was too much to ignore, that the passions we share and feelings we have are too incredible to walk away from, even though I was flying back to Minnesota the next evening.
|Manarola, Cinque Terre.|
And I did leave Italy the next evening. I’ve been in Minnesota for two weeks now. I still can’t believe the turn my life took when I met Gabriele on the beach in Lipsi, not just because of the time I got to spend in Italy, but because of all the things we dream of together. From the beginning of this adventure I focused on being opened and accepting of whatever Fate brought to my plate and I’m still amazed to have found myself here. There, actually. And back here again.
And of course at this point, I’m waiting to see where it is we will be going next!