The Trip Of A Lifetime

When hubby came home late in 2018 with the news that he’d booked long service leave, we already had a good idea of where we would go. After all, we’d only been talking about it for nearly 30 years. The biggest difficulty back then was in narrowing down our itinerary. Hubby had no overseas travel experience so I wanted this trip to be perfect. We finally settled on 8 countries in 9 weeks and on the 20th November 2019 we set off.

And what a trip it was!

I have walked in the footsteps of Kings and Queens and immersed myself in the stories that have shaped history. Stories of alliances, betrayals, injustices, feuds, tragic losses and triumphant victories. Every alleyway lead to new discoveries, as I stood in centuries old courtyards and wondered at the stories the walls surrounding me would tell if they could only speak.

I’ve stood in battlefields, and in the silence I could almost hear the cries of those who gave of their lives, as they fought for the right to keep their way of life, their land, their culture, their language.

I stood in the kitchen where my great grandmother prepared meals for my grandfather when he was a child.

I walked further along that same street, the street my father walked as a young man, to the home he was raised and lived in right up until emigrating to Australia.

I went to mass and took communion in the same Cathedral where my grandparents took their first communion, where they were married, where my father was Christened and where he took his first communion. I visited the Greek ruins where he played as a child.

I walked the streets where my mother played as a young girl, visited the church where her parents were Christened, took their first communion, and married. The same church where my mother was Christened. Under the watchful eye of suspicious neighbours, I walked through the lane ways and streets around my mother’s childhood home, as the stories of her childhood came to life before my eyes.

I’ve visited underground cities and marveled at the way of life and ingenuity of ancient civilisations.

I have stood, breathless and weeping, before works of art so profound they spoke to the depths of my soul. I have marveled at glorious landscapes bathed in the most beautiful light. The sun shines a different colour in some parts of the world.

I visited places of myths and legends and I’m pretty sure in some places I probably created legends of my own. I know there are workmen in London who probably still live in fear of a mad Italian woman running toward them, close to midnight in a UK winter, wearing nothing more than oversized men’s shoes and a coat that was little longer than her hip line. (I was wearing my pyjamas underneath, but they were too short to be seen so it did kind of look like I was naked under there).

I learnt so much new and useful information. Information such as the contents of Haggis (I really wish I’d known that before I ate it), and when you burn the bacon in a London basement apartment, it sets off an alarm that serves to evacuate the whole building. I know you can fit 8 adults into a red phone booth and if you try and walk back through the doors of the arrivals gate at a Sicilian airport, police and guards will show up out of nowhere. I also learnt never to trust an Irish woman when she tells you that she’s taking you on a ‘wee hike’, and I know why the once white washed walls of the seaside homes on the Isle of Skye are painted in bright colours, and that there’s only one place in Scotland where you can get a good coffee.

These are just a few of the important life lessons I’ve learnt and only a snapshot of the experiences and stories of those 9 weeks.

Family Travel

Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing every single day. Life never is and travel is no different. There were stressful experiences too, like flights cancelling 20 mins before boarding, and the subsequent scurry to find another mode of transport, along with hundreds of other passengers, three days before Christmas. Or the stress of trying to call a home visiting GP in a non English speaking country, two days before Christmas, in the middle of a transport and essential services strike.

There was heartache as our plans for a family Christmas in Paris were shattered, when our daughters were too sick to even get out of bed to enjoy dinner on Christmas eve. Followed by elation and joy on Christmas morning when they both woke in time for us to enjoy our day together.

There was frustration as four adults negotiated what and where we would eat dinner; stress on each and every transition day as we negotiated train schedules with heavy suitcases in tow; and endless patience exercised with only one shower between four adults (two of them young women).

And I’ll never forget the day we arrived in Sicily, 6 hours before our luggage (you won’t either when you hear the story :))

And we would do it all again (with slightly less luggage).

Because out of all of the lessons, the most important was realised 3 days into our trip, as hubby and I both felt the weight of the world lift off our shoulders. That weight which comes from the daily grind. Routine and rhythm is good, it is necessary. But it’s important to step off the wheel once in a while and take a look around.

The stepping off is regenerating – physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally.

The stepping off gives you permission – permission to take the time to relax, to play, to explore and discover, and the permission to reflect and re evaluate.

And the stepping off gives you a new perspective. A new perspective on the world and your world view, a new perspective of your own way of life, and a new perspective of the daily grind.

And when you have a new perspective, you can begin to create and tell yourself a new story.

For me, part of my new story is that indulging my desire to write and to create is not wasted or frivolous time.

My new story is full of gratitude for the sacrifices my grandparents made to create a new life for their families in Australia. A life that has ensured I can enjoy choices and freedom and a superior way of life than many of my Italian sisters.

And my new story has given me permission to have balance in my work life, because I no longer feel I have to prove my worthiness for the job. After all, I talked a Sicilian military police officer into seeing things my way.

And I didn’t even kiss the Blarney Stone 🙂