Here we go again, I bump into someone I know in a small (yes, very touristy though) village in Chiapas, Mexico!
Two days ago I was walking up the trail along the Agua Azul waterfalls with Mamà Rosita and... POW! 'I know that girl! she was at Uni with me, a good friend of my sister's good friend!', so I go to say 'hi! how is it going? where do you live now? so long it's been after the last time I met you in Genova...'
Rosita couldn't believe this was happening again.
She knows about my serendipitous encounters.
And every time this happens I think of each past encounter and I wonder how many friends and acquaintances we cross our paths with in unusual places everyday, but we don't even notice...
I confess: I look at the people around me a lot: just like others look at monuments or window-shops or the clouds, well, I observe the fellow humans around me, to see how they look like, if they smile, if they're in a hurry, how they dress, what they do, how they speak...
This habit probably increases my chances of bumping into some old friends, but hey, it does feel so weird each time, I try to visualise the world in its grandness and no, the world when this happens appears just so small!
The first time I was on a bus in Estonia. With the group of kids I was working with, we crammed the bus heading to the beach near Tallinn, I boringly sat down, staring at the door, when in the middle of the forest this girl I knew from my first days in Denmark 4 years before appeared in front of me, got on the bus and wow! we couldn't believe that was real!
She was going to visit her sister. We met up in the following nights and hung out together, yay!
At that time Facebook wasn't probably existing, surely it wasn't as popular as nowadays, and definitely smartphones were not in use yet.
Two months later I was going to Argentina, to spend 6 months there.
My first intercontinental flight, my brand new passport in the bag and lots of excitement and confusion, so, a bit lost in Frankfurt airport, I look for my gate number on the big screen, not many people around, 'strange, - I think - I really hope I'm in the right place', just one guy who is also looking at the screen, and that was actually one of my best class mates from my course in Denmark!
He was on the same flight as me, he was moving to Buenos Aires for a while...
Then later on in Australia, on a desolate Sunday afternoon in Newcastle I bumped into the guys from Adelaide who played with my Italian friend on his Australian tour! A dull rainy day turned into a friendly one and I ended up following them to see Propagandhi that night.
That day I realised that vegans are actually very nice people and I convinced myself I would have considered that choice more seriously.
The year after I went vegan. It's now been 4 years.
Now that I think about all these coincidences, I can recall more, less significant perhaps, still remarkable when considering the amount of space and time we move into.
That exact moment in that same place, a matter of seconds or minutes.
It's crazy shit, really.
Some weeks ago a good friend of mine from Uruguay happened to be in France at the same time as me. My original plan was to spend the long week-end in Paris to visit another old friend before she would move South again, but I hadn't seen my Uruguayan friend in ages, so I went to Bordeaux first, caught up with the people there and headed up North for the week-end.
The day I arrived in Paris my house-mate's very good friend walked on the same side of the same pavement of the same bridge as me on the Seine River.
Now, there are many bridges in the small area joining the left and right banks of the river, in the mental map I had drawn for myself, I should have had crossed the other bridge, just to pass by Notre Dame to recollect the memories of the last time I'd been there, to give a quick look to the cathedral, in a sort of compulsive ritual, although this time I wouldn't have had the time for a hummus baguette picnic on the quai: I was in a hurry, my friend got me a ticket for the theatre play she was working on and I was well aware that I always manage to get lost in the area around the Odéon.
It was a Saturday afternoon at 6pm.
Possibly the busiest time in St. Michel.
Pavements are huge on that bridge.
Adrenaline was high. Yes, it was him with those same guys who played at my house four weeks before the most moving music I haven't heard in a while - at least since living in the UK.
Accordion, sax, friendships, the moon and the smiles.
They were playing the following evening not far from my friend's house. Just in time for me to catch the night bus back to England.
More beautiful music and friendships, coincidences and smiles.
And the moon again, shining over that place I also called home for a while.
In those moments I feel immensely lucky and happy for being alive.
Some days ago I met up with my good Mexican friend from Melbourne here in Tulum, he had already visited me a couple of times in Italy and in England in the past 5 years, now it's been my turn. He is actually the one who gave me the roadmap for Mexico that I'm carrying in my rucksack: realistically I don't think I will ever need it, but it's for me a symbol of the way in which everything is connected, so I keep it.
I know, or at least I have the hope that many other amazing coincidences will take place in the time ahead and this is enough for feeling excited about tomorrow.
Although tomorrow it's the last day with Mamà Rosita, and I think that somehow I will miss her continuous presence at my side in these Mexican lands full of colours, coffee and beautiful eyes.
mercoledì 3 dicembre 2014
giovedì 27 novembre 2014
B-day thoughts and Travel notes
My first week in Mexico has just gone and my 32 years on this planet too!
Counting, we could spend a lot of time doing it, how many birthdays have I spent in a hot place, far away from my family, on my own, how many days are you staying here, how many countries have you visited, how many languages can you speak, how many pyramids have you seen, how many euros have you spent... (I had 55 people wishing me a happy birthday on facebook!!! thank you facebook, you're not just taking away my creative time as I initially thought!)
yesterday we went with mama (aka Mamà Rosita) on a tour to visit Chichen Itzà ruins, classified as one of the 7th wonders of the world, therefore an archaeological site receiving an incredible number of tourists everyday, and the visits are clearly arranged to satisfy as many people as possible, in the least time possible too.
No doubt, the site is amazing, seeing the ruins, the ball game picth and the representations of the snakes and skulls, and listening to our Italian speaking guide, revived memories of my Anthropology studies, why is my memory so short? I remember being really interested in that, why can't I be there explaining to Rosita about the ancient populations of Mesoamerica? I'm just not good at telling stories, my brain just doesn't work like that, and that's fine too.
Anyway, the tour-ists' needs: Chichen Itzà ruins, guided visit and free time to do the shopping; lunch at a buffet restaurant, with tables arranged per mini-bus number, and with a traditional dances show between the tables, forcing waiters to become integrating part of the dance; 45 minutes at the 'cenote' to dive into this natural hole filled with pure water (and lots of fish!); back to the mini-bus to visit the colonial town of Valladolid, 30 minutes.
I knew that the tour was going to be like this. I did ask Rosita 'do you really want to go to Chichen Itzà?', perhaps I could have been clearer with her about how it was going to be like, still, I don't regret having spent many hours on the mini-bus to have very rushed visits. I met nice people at the visit, had a few interesting chats, I ate some beans purée and fresh salad, run away from the restaurant to have a quick look at the small town's main square: the road was closed to the traffic and the sound system under the town hall arcade was spitting out loud tunes to the desert square, lorries with rides for the funfair were arriving, the sun was shining on the garlands, a dog, some kids on their pushbikes and me.
I wanted to find a coffee, or a dairy-free ice-cream, no luck, but the escape from the tourists area felt kind of good; I'm also a tourist, a visitor, I go around with my camera taking pictures to confirm to my eyes the image I had of Mexico, so what is this relief when walking on normal streets in normal towns?
I finally found a lovely coffee place in Valladolid on the main square, expreso, I needed it so much.
I had a chat with the guy behind the counter, had to refuse some local liquor he offered me because of the honey it contained (doh!), we walked around the square and it was already time to go back to the minibus, exhausted and feeling almost ill I tried to sleep and think about the blog posts I want to write: it seems that until I don't slow down again when Mamà Rosita leaves, I will not have much time for writing, or thinking.
But I've got now a list of ideas I'm writing down as they come to my mind, hopefully one day, when it rains...
Lessons learnt - notes to self:
don't bring books to tours and/or excursions
ask tours sellers to tell you the truth regarding timings
do not talk about politics with your parents
full time permanent work with 4 weeks holiday/year: really?
Italians abroad, everywhere, as always (I might write something about this at some point)
Counting, we could spend a lot of time doing it, how many birthdays have I spent in a hot place, far away from my family, on my own, how many days are you staying here, how many countries have you visited, how many languages can you speak, how many pyramids have you seen, how many euros have you spent... (I had 55 people wishing me a happy birthday on facebook!!! thank you facebook, you're not just taking away my creative time as I initially thought!)
yesterday we went with mama (aka Mamà Rosita) on a tour to visit Chichen Itzà ruins, classified as one of the 7th wonders of the world, therefore an archaeological site receiving an incredible number of tourists everyday, and the visits are clearly arranged to satisfy as many people as possible, in the least time possible too.
No doubt, the site is amazing, seeing the ruins, the ball game picth and the representations of the snakes and skulls, and listening to our Italian speaking guide, revived memories of my Anthropology studies, why is my memory so short? I remember being really interested in that, why can't I be there explaining to Rosita about the ancient populations of Mesoamerica? I'm just not good at telling stories, my brain just doesn't work like that, and that's fine too.
Anyway, the tour-ists' needs: Chichen Itzà ruins, guided visit and free time to do the shopping; lunch at a buffet restaurant, with tables arranged per mini-bus number, and with a traditional dances show between the tables, forcing waiters to become integrating part of the dance; 45 minutes at the 'cenote' to dive into this natural hole filled with pure water (and lots of fish!); back to the mini-bus to visit the colonial town of Valladolid, 30 minutes.
I knew that the tour was going to be like this. I did ask Rosita 'do you really want to go to Chichen Itzà?', perhaps I could have been clearer with her about how it was going to be like, still, I don't regret having spent many hours on the mini-bus to have very rushed visits. I met nice people at the visit, had a few interesting chats, I ate some beans purée and fresh salad, run away from the restaurant to have a quick look at the small town's main square: the road was closed to the traffic and the sound system under the town hall arcade was spitting out loud tunes to the desert square, lorries with rides for the funfair were arriving, the sun was shining on the garlands, a dog, some kids on their pushbikes and me.
I wanted to find a coffee, or a dairy-free ice-cream, no luck, but the escape from the tourists area felt kind of good; I'm also a tourist, a visitor, I go around with my camera taking pictures to confirm to my eyes the image I had of Mexico, so what is this relief when walking on normal streets in normal towns?
I finally found a lovely coffee place in Valladolid on the main square, expreso, I needed it so much.
I had a chat with the guy behind the counter, had to refuse some local liquor he offered me because of the honey it contained (doh!), we walked around the square and it was already time to go back to the minibus, exhausted and feeling almost ill I tried to sleep and think about the blog posts I want to write: it seems that until I don't slow down again when Mamà Rosita leaves, I will not have much time for writing, or thinking.
But I've got now a list of ideas I'm writing down as they come to my mind, hopefully one day, when it rains...
Lessons learnt - notes to self:
don't bring books to tours and/or excursions
ask tours sellers to tell you the truth regarding timings
do not talk about politics with your parents
full time permanent work with 4 weeks holiday/year: really?
Italians abroad, everywhere, as always (I might write something about this at some point)
sabato 22 novembre 2014
lunedì 17 novembre 2014
After 4 years I come back to these pages
Here I am, 4 years later, I look at these pages and I can clearly see how many things have changed but also the fair amount of those that remained the same!!!! as if time and space remained still.
This blog has been for me the place where I would write down personal notes, attempts to poetry, musical and visual memories, to trace movements, emotions and inspirations I'd come across, wherever I would have found myself on this world (during those years I was moving from place to place with such ease!).
It seems that my time in Australia gave me a lot of chances to be prolific with words, I think a friend at that time even defined me as 'a genuine tanguera' - and that was not for my dubious dancing skills! but for the dramas I was often creating out of my life situations.
I now think it was most certainly a combination of beautiful landscapes, a high level of naiveté and a bit of thoughtful light-heartedness to give me the inspiration to write and/or take the time to somehow record events in a different way than keeping a notebook.
Of course the initial plan was to compile a blog to share my life overseas with friends and family back home, and that luckily never really worked out well, as I wasn't writing for them, but most likely to myself, or occasionally to some secret imaginary lover.
Well, now I'm about to cross the ocean again (yeepee!) for a couple of months, I will see again mangroves, rivers, beaches, rocks, waves, trees and people, eat chocolate, drink coffee and dance to the moon and listen to music... and I will probably be gifted with the abundance of that time in which there's no obligation to do something, you just need to be there, observing, chasing thoughts, see if they bring somewhere beautiful and decide whether to follow them, or move on, as there will be plenty more of solitary moments to enjoy and sink into. I'm sure!
This blog has been for me the place where I would write down personal notes, attempts to poetry, musical and visual memories, to trace movements, emotions and inspirations I'd come across, wherever I would have found myself on this world (during those years I was moving from place to place with such ease!).
It seems that my time in Australia gave me a lot of chances to be prolific with words, I think a friend at that time even defined me as 'a genuine tanguera' - and that was not for my dubious dancing skills! but for the dramas I was often creating out of my life situations.
I now think it was most certainly a combination of beautiful landscapes, a high level of naiveté and a bit of thoughtful light-heartedness to give me the inspiration to write and/or take the time to somehow record events in a different way than keeping a notebook.
Of course the initial plan was to compile a blog to share my life overseas with friends and family back home, and that luckily never really worked out well, as I wasn't writing for them, but most likely to myself, or occasionally to some secret imaginary lover.
Well, now I'm about to cross the ocean again (yeepee!) for a couple of months, I will see again mangroves, rivers, beaches, rocks, waves, trees and people, eat chocolate, drink coffee and dance to the moon and listen to music... and I will probably be gifted with the abundance of that time in which there's no obligation to do something, you just need to be there, observing, chasing thoughts, see if they bring somewhere beautiful and decide whether to follow them, or move on, as there will be plenty more of solitary moments to enjoy and sink into. I'm sure!
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