Sad in Valencia

I hadn't planned on going to Valencia.  Venice was flooded and my best friend raved about this small, Spanish town as her favourite destination -- somewhere she could see herself living.  I was so excited to go (so I thought).  

I arrived in Valencia around 10pm and headed straight to the hostel.  I liked the town at first -- it was very inviting and really warm for a December night.  I checked into a very large, very institutional hostel and met my Polish roommates -- they were just getting ready for a night on the town.  Despite it being a Sunday, it was a holiday weekend and everyone was heading out around midnight.  I was exhausted and headed straight to bed.

I woke up early on Monday and was excited for my first day in this new town.  Delighted, I found a Starbucks and learned that Grande Nonfat Latte is the same in every language. (Apparently the coffee chain doesn't have Italian locations for fear that their brand would be seen as inferior). Fortunately, I emerged from my withdrawal. Sadly, this was the best part of my day.

There wasn't a lot to see in Valencia.  A beach town, I am sure it is fantastic during the summer, although it just lacked any kind of sparkle as a European town in the winter.  I saw the historic quarter in all of three hours and sat myself down on a bench and realized just how overwhelmed with sadness I felt.  I really had a sense of losing a piece of myself in Florence and was not yet ready to move on.  

I found my way back to the hostel around 2pm and then the rains started.  Now, I am a born and raised Vancouverite.  I can do rain.  I cannot do crazy Spanish typhoons.  Really, the rain put Vancouver to shame (pardon the rhyme).  There was nothing to do but stay in.  The other residents of the hostel -- most of them Spanish and in town to party for the long weekend -- were in small groups and uninterested in meeting new people.  I met one guy -- a 45 year old man from Mauritius named Norbert who adopted me and tried to make me feel better. If I have not already mentioned, by this point I was crying and was just so lonely and lost.  I was wondering how I had come to find myself alone and in Europe.  I fed into my emotions -- in some ways, the rain coming down justified my mood and my tears, so I gave into it.  I spent a lot of time online that day -- and so began my communications with S.

The next morning and a departure

I awoke the next morning in pure happiness. Yes, I had not slept much the night before, but it didn't matter.  I was happy -- well, until I realized that I had to leave S that day.  I made my way into the living room and he was making breakfast in the kitchen.  I walked in and kissed him --so natural; like we were a married couple sharing a kiss over eggs and toast.  As others awoke and joined us, we would sneak kisses when others weren't looking and were just enjoying being playful with one another.  When others left, we just sat on the couch, letting the realization of our soon-to-be separation sink in.  In a matter of hours we would be apart.  We lay there and kissed and were just happy in each other's company.  

Francis was accompanying me to Pisa where we would see the sites before my evening flight.  As soon as I was on the train I knew I had left something special behind in Firenze.  I was really sad to have left him and felt a rush of emotions all day.  As I boarded the plane and saw Italy get smaller and smaller in the distance, I knew I would soon have to return.  The question was when.

Titanic (Tee-ta-nique)

As I was waiting for S to return, I romanticized our next encounter -- he would take me for a night out in Firenze, kiss me on the ponte vecchio and walk hand in hand through the streets.  Unfortunately, Francis, an Australian guest was there and S came back with his brother.  I sat on the couch in the middle of S and his brother -- who had been hitting on me the night before. The four of us watched Teetanique, otherwise known as Titanic -- a dubbed-over Italian film I can actually understand.  S' brother soon left and somehow we found ourselves extra cozy on the couch; so much so that Francis commented on how friendly we looked.  We shared a blanket and inconspicuously held hands.  It was all very teenage of us.  We were just waiting for Francis to leave.  She was on the computer and S would steal kisses on my neck. 

Francis finally stepped out of the room for a shower.  S and I were like a magnet to each other -- kissing and just giving in to the tension that had been building for the past few hours.  It was wonderful.  I didn't think of his age, I didn't think of my life at home, I just gave into everything I was feeling at that moment in time.  It was such a long time coming.

At one point Francis came into the room.  You would have thought that we were 16 and my mom just caught us making out.  We were instantly on other sides of the couch, an obvious move that prompted Francis to realize that we had been kissing.  The guilty looks on our faces didn't help much either.  We were caught.  Still, Francis excused herself graciously and we were left -- the two teenagers on the couch.  The next six hours -- almost entirely G rated -- were so wonderful and if I had let myself, things would certainly have gotten carried away.

Despite pleas to join him in the bedroom, I made my way back to my room and bed.  Francis was still awake and to continue my teenaged evening, we talked and giggled about what my night had entailed.  After all, the next morning I would be leaving.

When in Firenze...

I fell in love with Firenze.  I likened Rome to Toronto and Firenze to Vancouver.  It was just calmer, more refined, more relaxed.  I immediately knew it was a home to me.  The flirtation with S started immediately.  He was so cute and I just figured that was how he acted with all the girls.  He was always flirtatious and playful, but I dismissed it as such.  One night he invited his two brothers over and we had a dance party -- filled with wine and Chris Brown music -- in the livingroom.  S grabbed me, danced with me and tried to kiss me -- I resisted of course..Still, I had found an amazing connection and friendship with him and knew I had found something special. 

The next day was my relax day.  S and I watched tv until around noon and I laid low, figuring out my trip.  I also decided to do laundry -- in my black dress and boots since everything else was in the wash.  He made quite the to-do about my outfit and it made me feel so special.

Coming back from the laundromat, S and I were alone in the B&B.  I was making dinner and he was watching me.  At this point he had been trying to kiss me for a couple of days.  I finally gave in -- we shared the most delicious kiss in the kitchen; small but perfect.  He had to go home for dinner but I was on cloud nine -- emailing friends, drinking wine and just getting comfortable in my skin.  Really I was waiting for S to come back as he had promised.

When in Rome...

Upon landing in Rome, I immediately started to find the spark within myself that had been missing for so long. Despite the November night air and rain, I immediately headed over to the Vatican to just drink it all in.  I had dreamed of going to Italy for a dozen or more years and was in absolute awe of my surroundings.  I found a quaint (yet very overpriced -- even for Italy standards) pizzeria and had the most charming waiter.  Maybe he is programed to give "extra value" service, but he was so sweet and lovely to me.  I found it.  It didn't take long, but I found it.  The spark inside that had been extinguished for so many years.  It was there all the time and I just needed to feed the flame to have it grow inside of me.  

I had a few other fabulous flirtations and one of the most noteworthy came in St. Paul's Cathedral where one of the Swiss Guards hit on me during a Sunday night mass. He offered to give me a private tour of the Duomo -- code word for making out in the bell tower.  So sweet, but not interested.

I moved on to Firenze and found the most homey and comfortable bed and breakfast / hostel in Italy.  The manager, a very handsome and young guy named Salih greeted me and the two Canadian girls from Rome that I had recruited to come with me to Firenze.  One of the girls was giving Salih a very hard time and I was mortified.  Still, the three of us headed out into Firenze for what would become a life changing trip.

It started with a trip to Europe...

A whole explanation for how my engagement fell apart is a post for another time, another place.  Let's just say that I had a very rough couple of years. These years were filled with mental abuse, fear, lost dreams and an ensuing depression.  The trip to Italy was supposed to be a honeymoon that had been postponed time and time again.  In some ways, it is funny.  It was my ex-fiance (still boyfriend at the time) who encouraged me to go to Europe by myself. That was 12 days before the scheduled flight.  I didn't think I could do it. I didn't think I had the strength to fight my fears about being alone -- especially alone in the most romantic countries in the world. 

It was a Friday when he suggested to make the trip. I immediately dismissed it.  However, Saturday morning I sat up straight in bed at six in the morning and knew that it was something I had to do.  I got to planning. By the end of the day I had my trip mapped out. I had hostels booked and cheap flights planned. (Of note...I also got over my snobbery of staying in a hostel!)  

The days leading up to the trip were hard. I would put on a brave face at work and would come home and be a wreck. I was so scared. I was so scared of being alone and not in control of the situation. But of course I had to go!  

November 27, 2008 was the start of my new life. It was the start of my regaining my independence and becoming the person -- the woman -- I once was. In fact, I became a better version of that woman.  

One lost phone, two new friends and infinite insight

Yesterday was a tough day. I woke up and needed some positive reinforcement that I was loved and that my worldly plans to possibly move to Italy were justified. Unfortunately, my efforts to will S to say these things to me were unsuccessful. On Facebook chat I tried to get him to say that he misses me the most, but he kept insisting that he missed someone more than me. I wrongly took this as a sign that he didn’t care about me. After numerous times of him saying that there is someone else and how can I not understand, I got it -- he misses his father. On top of everything else that has happened in his life (to be discussed later), his father passed away from cancer a year ago. I felt like I had been so selfish to have been bringing my insecurities into the conversation.

Despite this, I had one of the mini breakdowns that I am so famous for.  Historically (that means up until this year), I have been a planner.  I have planned my life -- education, career, boyfriend, husband, babies -- in that order. While not that original, I prescribed to that plan and took only calculated risks, if any risks at all.  My new found sense of uncertainty, while exciting at times, can also reap havoc on my sense of self.  So, I had a meltdown.  I cried. More than anything I think my tears were tears of fear. I have never not known what I am going to do with my life and I have just felt so lost lately. After having a pity party for myself, my best friend called and convinced me to go for a walk. Her best advice was to not consider this a move forever, but rather a move for one year. That way it isn’t so absolute, final and anxiety ridden. That, along with some soothing words on the age old fear of getting older put my nerves at ease.  It was a beautiful day -- sunny and hot with crystal water that sparkled. I felt calm and at ease.  

On my walk home I went to look at the time on my phone. But, there was no phone. I made may way to my office where I would be able to call it, and the nicest lady answered.  Her and her husband would be at the Boathouse in English Bay for a drink and I could join them to retrieve it.   Well, I made two new friends that night.

They asked me to stay for a drink and we started discussing the most private and confidential of matters -- at least for someone you have just met. Turns out they were married at 19, raised their 5 kids in Calgary, moved them to Saudi Arabia for ten years and then after the kids went to Universities around the world, they moved to Mexico. When in a previous blog post I mentioned that I am trying to find influencers in my life, I think these two kindred spirits were sent to me just for this reason. They expressed such enthusiasm and support for my idea to move overseas. We discussed concepts of love, marriage and career and identified what is important in life. I admire them so greatly and on top of everything else, they are so young for their age. I think that the variety and spice in their lives have kept them this way. They also prove that adventure and children can go hand in hand. Who knew that losing a phone and having a conversation over two mojitos would possibly change my life. I must continue to amass these influencers. They will help me extract those traits buried inside that will become my future. I can’t wait!

To live an extraordinary life you must take extraordinary risks.

One thing that will become apparent in this blog is that I have not had a lot of influencers in my life who would encourage me to take risks.  In fact, I have searched for stability for thirty years. Born to a single mother who struggled with money, although from a wonderful and hard working family, my obsession has been to create stability and security for myself as an adult. I thought that I had accomplished this. I had found a good career, a boyfriend turned fiance, a purchased condo and a future filled with marriage, babies and material things. After all, that is what everyone aspires to, isn't it? What happens though when one of these building blocks crumble? What happens when one after another, the blocks come falling down around me? Faster and harder I would fall. I became someone completely unrecognizable. At the time the demise was somewhat gradual.  It took coming out of what I now know to be a depression to realize how far I had fallen. I had achieved the exact opposite of the stable and secure life I craved. 

While I love my friends and respect them for who they are, they can't offer me the risk that I am now trying to embrace. The ones with the babies now have a life that they cannot trade in. While I have envied them for a long time, I am realizing that there is more life to live for me before I become a mother. The single friends are enjoying being single in the great city of Vancouver but have not taken that "extraordinary risk" that is so fascinating to me right now.  So, I am seeking out those influencers who can help me turn my life "extraordinary".  An Aussie friend I met in my Spain travels has filled this void. While not overly focused on career, he recently spent half a year in Europe.  Now at home and saving money, he will come to Vancouver in September for ski season and will proceed to Africa for a year come next spring. His attitude is that when he is eighty he will look back on his life and assess if it was worth living. By taking these adventures, he is creating the memories that will warm his heart and his mind in the years ahead. The quote "To live an extraordinary life you must take extraordinary risks" is therefore his quote, his genius. I don't know if he yet realizes how much impact he is having on my life, but I think I will be owing him much gratitude. He is a wonderful friend, traveller and mentor.  I hope to learn from his teachings.

Where to start...

Logically one would start at the beginning, but I don't know if I am ready to delve into the past just yet. It has been a tough couple of years. Present time I am finally happy; a little confused, but happy. This blog will hopefully offer its readers a love story of epic proportions. More realistically, it will chronicle the life of an ordinary Canadian girl who finds herself in a struggle with society and her inner expectations. She had been fighting a losing battle for a long time. Her thirtieth year has been an awakening.

This blog will discuss love, career, friendship, fear, belonging -- or lack thereof, adventure, and most importantly, life. Mine is a life worth living. It has taken me a long time to realize this, but life is worth living. Life. Is. Worth. Living. After much heartache I find myself in the middle of a wonderful adventure. It is an adventure of love; an adventure of finding oneself; and an adventure of not succumbing to the pressures of marriage and children in attempts to fit in.  

For all those who are wondering, yes, there will be "amore in italia". Yes there is a guy who awaits me there; a guy who surprises me and excites me and warms me all in one. A guy who I would never have met if I didn't open my mind and heart to the possibilities of life.  A guy who might change my life forever.