Staying Awake
As I wandered the colorful and vibrant alleyways of Venice my final few days of travel, I found myself contemplating the idea of wakefulness. Particularly ironic in my case, as I spent much of my ten days more awake than I would have preferred. Staying awake, or rather wakefulness, is about presence in one’s life. It’s paying attention to the subtle and often ordinary experiences that can change our trajectory, fill our deepest desires, and connect us to others in ways we don’t expect. If we are sleepwalking in our lives, we miss out on what’s truly being offered by life’s abundance.
My journey to Italy started at 4:00 AM in Sunnyvale in order for me to fly out of San Francisco by 7:00. As with most big trips, sleep was scant the night before travel. I reasoned that it was better to be sleep-deprived for the long flights than wide awake. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to sleep on the plane. Seventeen hours later it was a Monday morning in Italy and I was ready to put my Italian to the test. I needed to make my way to the city center in Milan and was pleasantly surprised that I had no difficulty navigating my way around the airport. I soon found myself scrambling, along with many other weary travelers, to secure a seat on the last train departing Malpensa airport to the Grand Central Station in the city center. Apparently, there was a train strike starting at 9:00 am and we were all trying to get into the city on the final train in. We departed the airport at 8:50 and I truly felt empathy for all the other travelers behind us, soon to discover the ubiquitous nature of Italian railway strikes. Ironically, this was the first and last I heard of this strike as I did all of my subsequent traveling by high-speed rail.
The energy and vitality of Milan’s Central Station is exhilarating, especially after a twenty year absence. It is an immense and majestic building, with fifteen tracks and high-speed trains heading to destinations all over Europe. Travelers of every age and ethnicity are arriving and departing, with backpacks and suitcases in tow. It is loud and boisterous, filled with Italian energy. My first stop was to have a caffé, an espresso that is consumed standing at the counter in less than a minute. My first of many to follow. Italians may do this five or six times a day and almost never sit to have a coffee. I joined in this tradition even though I rarely drink espresso at home.
I arrived at my hotel without too much difficulty, and couldn’t help but be reminded of the ease of travel in today’s world. Google maps. No matter where I wandered, I was never lost. Despite my best intentions to take a nap after losing a night of sleep, my body was wide awake and I found myself on the metro, heading to the Piazza which is home to the magnificent Duomo di Milano, the breathtakingly beautiful and immense gothic cathedral. It is the third largest in the world, a true wonder. And this was my start to an incredible week of immersion and travel in a country filled with lively traditions and ancient history. My intention was to be fully awake to all the experiences awaiting me.
What followed was a journey that illuminated so much for me. What it means to let go, of schedules, attending to others, following a familiar routine. I was able to land in a new internal space, where I was liberated to finding a freedom to check in with only one person–me. I found an easy rhythm of tuning into hunger, curiosity, intuition. My minimal planning, an intentional decision on my part, allowed me to follow my instincts as opposed to an itinerary. I had hotels booked for my first few nights and allowed myself several days yet to be planned. I knew I’d find my path.
One of the most exhilarating experiences was having access to the Italian language. While I stumble, I can communicate and interact with enough ease that Italians spoke freely to me. They are a relational culture; talking animatedly, socializing with friends and family, delighting in the abundance of food and wine, coffee and aperitivos. All of this is done with a relational approach. If you stop at a local bar (caffe’s are called bars in Italy), you will undoubtedly find an animated conversation between the barista/owner and a well-known customer. I selected my bars by instinct, walking by several until I found the one that felt right. Sure enough, if I played my cards right, I could nose my way into any conversation that was happening. I had some of my most memorable conversations with locals using this strategy. Italians love foreigners who speak their language. They are almost predictably filled with curiosity. Where are you from? Why do you speak Italian? Small shop owners are equally friendly and engaging. I had the best time shopping for earrings and scarfs from the local artists of Bologna and Venezia. They were thrilled to talk about their crafts and I found true joy in buying a few simple pieces. But really, it was the conversation that I wanted to wrap up and savor.
My decision to visit Venice was the most spontaneous and intuitive. I had no intention of going there, yet when I saw it on the map, an hour away from Bologna where I was, it seemed almost punishable not to go. I hadn’t been there since I was in high school. Let me tell you, the magic of Venice is real. To wander aimlessly in the alleys and cross the hundreds of small bridges that connect them was nothing short of otherworldly. I couldn’t help but think of the millions of humans who had inhabited this city for hundreds and hundreds of years. Selling their fare, living their lives just as we all are.
On my last day there, I wandered into a church/museum and while browsing the literature, was told that there was a concert that evening, a string ensemble playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. WHAT?! Can you imagine my thrill at the opportunity to see a live concert in a 13th century church featuring Vivaldi? It was truly a life-changing experience. I felt the hand of fortune gently guiding me along.
Returning home, I feel a shift has occurred. I’m finding ways to integrate more of that ease into my life. I’m lucky. I have a life I want to come back to. Yet, there are endless ways to become more mindful and present and I’m intentionally striving for this. I was reminded by a friend today that vacation and vacate have the same latin root. To vacate, empty out, creates space for something new.
