Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I was nearly out of breath, feeling the last few hours of stress coursing through me.
Filipo chuckled and led me through his home, which had been in his family for three hun-
dred years. Sculpted in stone with portraits of his ancestors lining the walls, the villa felt
like an old museum, his ancestors looking down on us with stoic concern. Filipo had pre-
pared a slap-up dinner, which in Italy means a feast.
We sat down in his wood-and-tiled kitchen and began to eat as he recounted the history
of his family. With his gray hair and stately demeanor, he reminded me in many ways of
my own father. When I was young, I always imagined that my father was a statue. He was
so stoic, his posture so polished, that he seemed as though he had been cut from marble.
But then, over the years, I watched as my father dropped his own mask. I think in many
ways, because I did not fit in, he had to learn how to reach out. I wasn't polished marble,
and in my own reflection, he realized, that surprisingly, neither was he.
As Filipo pushed a plate of burrata my way and refilled my glass with water, I could
sense that he had perhaps experienced the same transformation. There was something about
him that hinted at a changed man. He had been born in the legacy of wealth, but somewhere
along the road, he had forged his own path. One that I could tell echoed my own.
He smiled gently at me and asked, “So how has your journey been thus far?”
I sighed, explaining to him, “I have traveled from Los Angeles all the way to here
without spending a single penny.”
“Fabulous,” he clapped his hands together as though he had been watching the whole
time.
I continued, “I've been relying entirely on people like you. On kindness.”
I stopped, feeling that my simple explanation was disguising the far greater journey un-
derneath. I set down my fork and continued, “Earlier today I was in Saint-Tropez, and here
I am in a house built over three hundred years ago. Sometimes I feel that I am not in reality.
Like I'm dreaming. Right now, I feel like I'm dreaming. It's like we're having this conver-
sation, but I'm dreaming.”
He smiled, “It's a lot of stress.”
I sighed again, “The bike takes a lot of energy out of me. Not knowing where I'm going
to stay takes a lot of energy out of me. Not knowing where I'm going to sleep.”
He nodded with a knowing look, as though he too had traveled the world on a yellow
motorbike with no money, adding, “It's a lot of uncertainty about what's coming along.”
It was. It is. The world is an uncertain place, and often the only touchstone, the only
marker we can find, is when another person actually stops us and says, “It's all going to be
