Italia

I’m going to take it a little easier on your eyes and your brains today, with a post that’s primarily a photo journal coming your way. This one wraps up the entire weekend. I just returned from a trip to Italy to meet my best friend from high school in Venice. I guess Italy hasn’t quite attained the Swiss level of public transportation efficiency so my friend had a schedule change and we missed each other. My rendez-vous turned into my first solo journey of 2017 (outside of my first week in Swiss-land, that doesn’t count)! As always, happy with what life puts in my lap, and even happier with the experiences I chase out of those unexpected changes. Here’s a couple of thought logs and a lot of pictures as I went from Nyon, Switzerland to Milan, Italy (Friday, Feb 17, 2017) to Venice, Italy (Saturday, Feb 18, 2017), to Lugano, Switzerland (also Saturday), to Lucerne, Switzerland (Sunday, Feb 19, 2017), and finally back to St-George by 10:30pm Sunday night. Enjoy 🙂
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Feb 17, 2017
There are moments when I recognize how surreal my life is. Like right now, I’m sitting on a train at 8:29am looking out the window to my left to see cobblestone fortress walls all across the landscape, and to the right a gently rippling body of water with the remnants of a sunrise over ginormous snow topped Alps as the backdrop. Scanning the seat numbers down the line of the train car I see the names of the cities each passenger is coming from and going to. What unique names! Domodossola, Gallarate, Brig. Mine reads:

Lausanne

Milano Centrale.

Tomorrow morning it will say:

Milano Centrale

Venezia st. Lucia

What world do I live in now where this privilege is the norm? Living in the States I thought I already had everything, but I didn’t realize how rich daily life is in a context with so much depth due to history. The sense of time adds undeniable value. But I suppose I do still have it all, because I have the opportunity to be here and live like this now, and go back to my home country of newness too. It’s grossly unfair. I am so thankful and in awe of where I get to be, but it’s also a nasty contradiction because I’m here studying global health, now gravitating more towards human rights, and I’m participating in a culture of selfish development. It is so frequently proposed in conferences regarding change and policy that it is necessary for the upper percent of wealthy individuals to distribute their excess to those without resources, “wealthy” including the full range from blue collar to Bill Gates, not just the 8 richest people. I should be in that mix. It’s messed up that I’m sitting in this padded, spacious, electric outlet equipped train seat, travelling for an education, simply because I was born into this circumstance. And the worst part is my flawed humanness and need for self preservation can’t let go and give away what I have. But I can give away some of what I have with ease; I can give away knowledge, and I can work to reconfigure the way our world approaches inequalities and human rights atrocities to create new platforms for community participation and giving. It’s hard to give when you are aware of the difference between having an not having. But, perhaps I can discover new facets to make it easier to part with excess. New tools to make it resonate that the discomfort that comes with having a little less than you potentially could is worth saving another from severe suffering. Maybe in that way we will begin to treat that stranger refugee, who has walked so far and so long that the soles of her shoes have worn away, like family; and if we can’t open the doors of our hearts that far, at least with the basic human rights that she deserves by her birth.

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Feb 18, 2017

I’m sitting on a train from Milan to Venice, looking at a round boy to my right wearing a red velvet pirate shirt, classic white ruffle cuffs and bib, eating a grilled sandwich. Just finished Chloe Caldwell’s most recent book, I’ll Tell You In Person, which I’d been slowing chewing on for the past few months. Feeling hyper-satisfied by the final line.

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Feb 19, 2017

I’m sitting again, this time outside on a bench. I suppose it’s pretty typical to be sitting when writing, but I only seem to mention my state of mobility when I’m stagnant (because I do write when walking as well). Someone just placed their burning cigar in the ashtray beside me and the fruity tobacco smell is floating directly into my face. This moment seems to be a perfect example of what I initially brought my phone out to write about. In front of me is an eerily still stone pool, behind it a wall of stone with a monument of a crying lion carved into it. I’ve been here for less than 10 minutes and already I’ve watched 2 large groups of tourists, mostly Asian (race is an unnecessary addition but I feel like culture can help explain customs and behavior) come, loudly take pictures, and go. There’s an older man sitting on the bench to my right. He just got up and left after I looked over at him to write that last sentence, but he was the reason I sat down in the first place; by witnessing his approach on how to do this tourist attraction I recognized the option to sit and followed. Now 2 others have since looked at me and done the same. Okay I’m getting side tracked, that wasn’t the point of this entry. I just wanted to reflect on the importance of awareness. Prior to coming here I learned that this monument was created in memorial of the Swiss mercenary soldiers who died serving for the French revolution. You can learn more about the history here. The lions expression is extremely sad, and this space feels almost prayerful. When the loud of the tourists hushes, you can hear the chirping of birds against the silent stone. The blatant lack of awareness I observed, to me sitting down-wind from where one chooses to place their burning tobacco, to the meaning of this stonework, reflects to me how the rush that comes with seeing “the things” can take away from actually doing “the things.” Awareness and choices, at the moment those two feel important. Mental note taken.

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I walked 9 miles each day, got lost at least 3 times in each city, but through my aimless loops found a lot of little nooks. Here are some images to facilitate your imagination:

Milan: Duomo and dinner. Not featured: shopping at Zara, my hostel, and getting lost and finding a castle, gorgeous winding park path, and a kid’s carnival.

 

 

Venice: 5 hours with a backpack, and the craziness of Carnivale celebrations!

*This section of photos uploaded in backwards, so to see my day from the beginning start at the bottom of the Venice photos:

 

Lugano: Italian speaking section of Switzerland. Couple hour Sunday morning waterfront stroll.

 

*photos also loads backwards here. Start from the bottom for the proper order:

 

Lucerne: 3-hour spur of the moment pit-stop. I think I ended up walking every single street in old town. By the end of the weekend I wore my shoes away from under my feet!

 

*there’s no logical order for the day here, just follow the degree of sunlight for this set: