My time had certainly expired in Sorrento - The indulgence and comforts took me as far as they were going to, and were not serving me any more than a delay on the reasons I came here for. As fortunate as I feel for being able to experience such comforts, when it is just me by myself, I am very aware that my time is best spent closest to my creative heart or I really do begin to let my soul fall asleep. And nothing good can happen from there.
We are snaking through the Italian countryside with grand volcanoes to my right. Clouds are swirling around the tops of them, looking like Jurassic Park, but much more inviting. The base of them are dotted with old stone homes, their yards dotted with clothes hung from wires, blowing in the fresh air to get a scent that could never be bottled. One of my favorite movies is ‘Inglorious Bastereds’ and these homes look identical to the one in the very beginning. Such simple lives - I can only wonder who lives in them and what they could possibly do. There is surely no business so I can only assume they are gloriously self-sustainable, not having a clue what wars are being fought in different places in the world. Ignorance can be such a beautiful thing.
This morning, on my final day in Sorrento, I decided to get lost in the stone alleyways that dot the cliffs above my hotel. I didn’t think they would lead to much - Maybe a dead end or private property - But they ended up taking me on an adventure that led me for miles down cobblestone streets and tall moss-covered walls. I stopped for a moment to record and, as I did, a lady walked by and asked if I was filming ‘a documentario’. I told her I was - It was easier than explaining and in a way, we are - And she got so excited she told me to go up to her home to see her yard. I headed that direction but, since she was walking into town, I never ended up finding the exact yard. Regardless, I ended up in stone alleyways that were absolutely saturated with the smell of fresh citrus - With orange and lemon trees in every direction. Wooden shutters were open, with no screens on the windows. It was Sunday and the weather was warm so you could hear music and conversation coming from every open window. I took a lemon down (One is going to be in the package I’m sending tomorrow) and before I knew it, my hands and arms took on the same scent. It was really beautiful.
I went a bit farther and I finally got the scent of fresh homemade Italian food emanating from one of these homes. I thought it was pasta but I then realized it was pasta sauce - I could distinctly smell the tomatoes and the oregano. So I let myself be led by that scent, honestly hoping I found an open window or grandma outside that I was going to ask if I could have lunch with them. I am sure they would have said yes but unfortunately, the scent led me to a closed down restaurant that one of the neighbors told me was long gone. I asked about the scent and he just smiled - But didn’t offer me any direction for where to go next.
I finally found my way back into the town - Now hopelessly late to check out from the hotel. I got some fresh salami and locally made Parmesan from the market for the train ride and then went back to pack up and head to the station. Now, my stomach is full and the train is silent - So I felt like writing a bit before dozing off, hopefully not waking up until the train pulled into Tuscany.
I know I frame a lot of that story to be glorious - And it truly is - But the truth is, today had a lot of lonely moments also. I am grateful that Jack will be here next week but the truth is - I have reached the limit on my solo long journeys for now. I just do not do as well when I am by myself for such long periods of time - I have chased the sunset for enough years on my own to see what I was running from. I suppose in a way - I surely still run from something - but I don’t run from those I care about anymore. I’ve reached the end of that tunnel, seeing there was nothing there except for the same lessons I would have to go through regardless. So I sunk into the healing necessary to be where I am at today.
I suppose also - I still have a bit of a belief that my best creativity can only come from the depths. And those depths are not places I am able to discover without going through a lonely process within that pain. I know this is true and that gorgeous, dark holes can surely bring out new layers of our imagination. But the toll it takes on my mental health at this point also does not allow the clarity it used to. I started this project with something to prove - Partially to myself and partially to the world - And at a point, you have to stop and look at how far you’ve come in doing so and appreciate the fulfillment that has been earned through the fire you’ve walked through. I know this will be my last trip completely alone, of this magnitude at least, and that is surely why there was some fear and apprehension in beginning it. These trips are the sole definition of why travel can be so transformative - True, complex, spontaneous travel at least (which only crazy fucks like me put themself into) - In that it strips away every possible superficiality that grew upon your identity when you went back home. And you are always left remembering that your body is just a vehicle for your soul, and this is an opportunity to be the best human you can be with these experiences.
