It’s pretty cool what can happen if you just decide to set off somewhere from your front door.
Though at the same time, I have to say it also wasn’t that cool during the first moments of doing so. The oh so familiar and normal feeling of leaving the house contrasted strongly with the completely unfamiliar and abnormal intentions I had as I left. Normally when my mind is saying ‘leave house,’ it’s then saying ‘buy milk,’ but what was strange was that this time it was saying the usual ‘leave house’, but then saying ‘now cycle 1000s of km round Italy and make lots of cool and interesting friends, while also finding nice places to stay, and Italian mamas who will teach you how to make spaghetti.’ Ok, will do, I agreed with myself.
I’ve aleady mentioned the lows that I had in Milano, and how lost and clueless I felt as I began to leave the house to start upon this adventure. I didn’t know what could happen, and worse I wasn’t even sure that anything would happen. But that’s really the thing; it’s impossible to imagine what will happen, you just have to go out and have faith that something will.
And it will. If you left the front door of your house on your bike today and started cycling East, stuff would happen… That just be rule of the road.
Thus lies the problem with having time to plan a trip like mine (ie a trip that has no plan); it gives you time to wonder about all the things that can go wrong and right. And surprisingly it’s actually thinking about the things that could go right that can be the most scary. I can sit down and think of plenty of bad things, such as having to sleep in a ditch one night, in the middle of a thundestorm, while 100 mosquitos have me for their dinner, and dessert, and then breakfast. Or having a puncture in the middle of nowhere and having to drag all my stuff 100km down a road in order to sort my life out. Or getting everything stolen and being mugged in a brutal fashion. But none of these ideas frighten me that much (although obviously I’d try my best to avoid them). What scared me more was the thought that these things could happen for nothing, kind of like I hinted at when I talked about going hard or going home . Positive things like getting invited into the house of an Italian mama, making interesting new friends, somehow meeting and falling in love with some Italian beauty (female) in a distant village, all these things sound good when you fantasise about them, but when you snap out of the fantasy, a reality kicks in where the thing you were thinking of suddenly seems highly improbable. And it is highly improbable. The specific thing that you were thinking of happening in that specific way, yes, this happening is improbable. But something else will happen, and it will happen through some way that you can’t predict, and you can’t imagine it, you just got to go and find out for yourself.
So what happened to me when I just left my front door to prompt this reaffirmed belief in the road? Well, I already answered discussed this a bit when I ran through 24 hours in the life. Though however interesting and gorgeous that day was, it didn’t really assimilate the ilk of fantasies I had before setting out. Probably one reason was because I ended up staying with Engish people rather than Italian, and that’s not really what I travelled across Europe to Italy for. But since that day, things have changed, and continued becoming better. Indeed, I’ve spent the large part of the last week living in a little village, situated in a community of little lakes by the northern mountains of Italy. A place where I staight away fell in love, with the surroundings, with all the new friends I made, and with… a woman (prompt ‘ooooooooooooooooooohhh’s)(Trying to turn this blog into a pantomime if possible). SHE’S BEHIND YOU. where? BEHIND YOU…
Anyway, I figured I’d leave this post on a cliffhanger, what happened in this lake Sam? exactly. I’m not telling you because it’s a cliffhanger, a cliffhanger with a pantomime twist. Pretty real.