Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
and Finesse, his generosity stemming from the love that once grounded him, offering him
not just a discipline, but also a deeper philosophy on how to live.
As we found a place in the center of town with a bustling contingent of foreigners and
locals walking by, I started to train in the ancient art of repartee. I discovered that fencing
isn't about striking your opponent; it's about understanding his motives. Because behind
those large white masks, there is a dance taking place, and though you might not be able to
see one another's faces, you can still feel each other's energy. And that is the art of fencing:
feeling which direction your opponent is going to move before he takes that victorious step
toward you. After an hour or so, we sat down at a coffee shop, where Alex bought me a
much-needed lunch.
“When I was young,” he explained to me. “I learned so much from the man who taught
me, my fencing master. He teach me everything.”
In Alex's broken English he described a relationship I knew well. In his fencing master
he found someone who believed in him, who showed him that his talent was unlimited. I
sat there as his eyes welled up with tears. It was evident that his fencing master had been
the one to give him that connection to who he was behind the mask.
He described how the relationship had taken on a sacred form of family. “For me,” Alex
shared, “it was like a father because he teached me for fifteen years, hours of lessons every
day. It was better than a father. I learned a lot from him.”
Alex told me that ever since he left fencing, he had hoped to become a master himself
someday. “To be a fencing master will be one of my dreams. Yes, I wish to be as Dario. I
wish to transmit the same positive attitude for life and for the sport that I learn from him.”
I smiled, already knowing my next gift. “So you want to give back to the kids what
Dario gave to you?”
He paused before explaining, “Yes. But let me be honest—I learned from my winning,
but I also learn from my defeat. It's easy to win. Sometimes it's not easy to be defeated.
You put your problems under your mask, and in fencing whether you win, whether you
lose, you still shake your hand with your opponent.”
He looked down and as though it was happening right in front of me, I saw his own mask
drop. The happy, gregarious man I had met in the square allowed me into the inner life that
dwells within us all—the fire, the spirit, the secret places where we hold those dreams and
those fears. I watched as he brought down the facade he wore behind the fencer's mask. I
saw him not just as who he presented himself to be, but also as who he really was, and I
wanted to honor both of those men.
