Oct 09 2008
Florence
The Americans were dropped curbside at the airport on a Friday. My plane left Saturday morning, so I farted around Florence then figured I’d crash at the airport for the night because again according to Rick Steves that’s what all the cool backpackers do. When’s the last time Rick Steves slept in train station? Just as I was kicked out in Lyon, I was also asked to leave the airport in Florence after it was closed for the night. I found a patch of lawn to lie on in between the airport and the freeway. I was deep in sleep when the sprinklers turned on. Wet, I ran for cover yelling, “Fuck Rick Steves!”
I got on the plane with blistered feet, my memory card full and my credit card severely maxed out. I would be returning to Portland a new person. Kat and Lily picked me up from the airport and gave me a choice of wigs to pick from and informed me that we were on our way to a friends wig party.
“I haven’t slept for the last thirty-four hours,” I said as I tried on a rainbow clown wig.
“We got that covered,” they laughed.
Apparently the new cure for jetlag is cocaine. I settled for the Santa Claus wig to go with my theme of being a Ho Ho Ho.
I learned that we have to take risks in order to build confidence.
Traveling alone in a foreign place without a clue, but I got myself from one place to the next using my gut as my GPS system. I consider myself a survivor. I made it back alive.
We have to allow ourselves to be uncomfortable in order to grow.
Letting my guard down, going topless that wall of insecurities I had carefully built up, was crumbling down.
Suffering develops strength.
It broke my heart to have my backpack stolen, but when I was stripped to nothing I was able to get a good look at what I have, I needed to be reminded of that.
Stop talking and start doing, it’s the only way to love yourself.
I had always talked about going to college; finally I got the courage to go. I always talked about backpacking, and finally just went. I’m proud of you, I say to myself. There are no mistakes, just lessons learned.
I got lost, I could have held my backpack in my lap, I should have locked up my camera but those experiences humbled me and allowed me to take the scenic route.
from my book Scars of Paris available at Borders Barnes & Nobles or Amazon
