A Charmed Life - Break-ins, Late Flights, and all is Right

775 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

This past Sunday, just a few days after my return from London, my friends and I went to wine country for the day. We took my friend's jeep and rode with the top down through the Sierra Foothills. The vines had yet to bud their leaves, but the hills were bright green from the winter's rain. The sun was shining and the weather was a perfect 70 degrees. As I sat overlooking a vineyard tucked into rolling hills, I sipped my Voignier and relaxed into the moment - allowing myself time to take in all that had happened over the previous week.

I guess you could say that things starting going a little strange on Monday night. I had spent the day in Rome, being a tour guide for a young woman I met in Soriano. On the train to the airport I sat across from a man reading a Penguin Classic book. This immediately intrigued me. It's not often you see a man reading literature. We struck up a conversation that carried us through the airport, dinner, a three hour delay to our flight, and a two hours plane ride. Normally, after landing, we would've parted ways, but as my luck with the Tube would have it, once again I was in the situation that it was too late in the night for a train to my hotel. I would recommend the Holiday Inn Express in N. Acton outside of London, but not if you need to get there after 12:30 at night.

My new friend had offered his spare bedroom, but after passport control we were separated. I thought maybe he had run for the next train and I was on my own. I went to the ATM to withdraw a large sum of money for a cab ride out to N. Acton, but the ATM wouldn't cough up the cash. So here I was, in Gatwick Airport, with no British pounds and no place to stay. Before I began this journey of following my dreams, this situation would've left me in a panic. I would've been whining in my head about my bad luck. As I walked through the empty airport, I realized how much I've changed. I was calm, almost zen about my situation.

There wasn't anyone in the airport except police and a few travelers. I went to sit down while I decided if I would take the overground train into central London and then try to find a hotel, or if I would just wait the three hours until the tube was running again. What was one night of missed sleep?

It was at this moment that my friend found me. I followed him home like a lost puppy dog. He fed me peanut butter and jelly, let me use his internet and shower, and gave me a safe, comfortable place to sleep.

A few days later, upon landing in California, I called my mother and told her my story about being rescued from a night in the airport. "You certainly are one lucky girl," she said. I agreed and then informed her that my house had been broken into while I was away.

My friend's were shocked by my reaction to my house being burglarized. I didn't fall into sadness or despair. I've had my down moments as I've inventoried all that was taken, but all the thieves stole was stuff: jewelry, electronics, copies of the books I wrote, shoes, and art. Some of it was rather personal and sentimental, but things don't hold love or memories. For everything that was taken, all I could think about was the gratitude I had for the friends who took care of calling the police and cleaning my place. I think the most anxiety I've had is realizing that I need to do a lot of shopping. It seems rather extravagant to spend this much money at one time.

So as I sat in wine country taking in the moment, two women started a conversation with me. We came to discuss my recent trip and the website. They said to me, "It must be nice to live a charmed life."

A charmed life? Some would see being robbed, a delayed flight that would leave me stranded, or having to go through the events that led me to this journey as bad luck. I don't believe lives are charmed or cursed. I think it's the way we react to the world that decides how we view our existence. Two people can sit and look at wine country - one can be caught up in the anger about something that happened while the other can sit and be grateful for the moment. It's a choice. Maybe choosing the presence brings about more grace.

My Italian Lover

783 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

A touch, a brush of lips against mine as hands move up my neck and through my hair - waves of sensations shivering throughout my body. The feel of new love, the excitement of chemicals that make the world seem brighter, the nerve endings open so that every experience is not one of thought but of surrender to pleasure. This is how Italy makes me feel -  as if I'm under the spell of a lover.

A soft breeze brings the smell of spring flowers, as I sit in the park in Orvieto. I roll a bite of chocolate, orange gelato around my tongue, taking the time to taste the sweetness and bitterness. Beyond the medieval walls I can see the Tuscan valley below. Before I realize it's happening, tears drip from my eyelashes - I'm leaving in two days and my heart is breaking, knowing that I will be away from the place I love deeply.

What is it about this country that changes me so drastically? In any other place I'm a type A personality: I rush, I push, determined to experience all that I can from life. In Italy, I find myself closing my eyes to taste a great wine. I eat slowly for fear I will miss the delicious pleasure the food brings. I stroll, watching the world and noticing the small details. Everything becomes about experiencing the moment, and it is here in this place that I feel that I've really learned how to live.

Missed Buses, Friends, Angels, and a Ghost Town

785 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

The one thing I've learned from travel is to go with the flow. Things won't always turn out as planned and wherever I am to be in the moment and enjoy. Such is the story I have for you. A few days back I decided to venture out to a village called Bagnoregio. As you can see from the picture it is a small town high up on a hill in Tuscany. The entire village was built by the Etruscans on land created from volcanic ash. Not knowing that someday the wind and the rain would erode this entire area they built a lovely city high up on the hill and into the walls of the mountain. Today most of the city has crumbled, leaving only the center buildings and eight inhabitants along with a few restaurants and stores. Those that have chosen to stay have a place of peace. Cars can't come into the city since the road is now a foot bridge. All around the hill is a lush green valley of vines, and olive trees that lead to the surrounding mountains.

It was only supposed to take one hour by bus to get to Bagnoregio. This was my first journey on the bus from Soriano and I thought I could buy a ticket at the station. Wrong. Instead, a man told me in English that I would have to climb the 124 steps back up to the center and buy a ticket from the convenience store, and that I wouldn't have time before the bus left. The driver taking pity on me, or possibly liking my blue eyes, let me on the bus as a gift.

I arrived in Viterbo for the transfer only to find that the next two buses had been canceled. With an hour and a half wait I had no idea what to do with myself. The area around the bus station was ugly and industrial, but I didn't have enough time to walk to the medieval center. So I found a grocery store, and a patch of grass with flowers. I sat in the middle of the tiny lawn and didn't look at the ugliness around me as I enjoyed strawberries, Nutella, and cheese with bread.

My picnic done, I went back to the bus station and asked which platform to Bagn....Bagn...what the heck city was I going to? The bus drivers standing around assumed I wanted Bagnaia and they whistled to the bus leaving to stop. I ran after it, my shirt falling below my lace bra. I stepped onto the bus only to realize it wasn't what I wanted, jumped off and laughed at myself along with everyone else at the station. I found the right platform and met three Americans who live about an hour from me. They were headed to Bagnoregia, their daughter had been there before, and for the rest of the day she guided us. Karen, John, and Meleesa were the nicest people and we have made tentative plans to do some wine tasting when we all return to the states. So two buses canceled brought me friendship.

At the end of the day, we were a little late for our bus ( we didn't realize how long the walk from the town on the hill was to the one still standing strong). I ran ahead with plans to hold the bus for my new friends. Just as they arrived a bus went flying down the road and we thought we had missed our ride. I was more than worried since it was the last bus of the day and even if we got a cab back to Viterbo I would have no way to get to Soriano. Karen offered me a room in her daughter's apartment and I figured I would be where I would be. Then we saw another bus, one going where we needed. I ran after it waving my arms for it to stop. Once again my shirt dropped to show off my bra (this really wasn't a seductive shirt - it just wasn't meant for running). Then I saw the bus turn and I realized it was coming back to the bus stop where we had been standing. The driver laughed as I got on the bus and all I could do was laugh with him. All in all a great day.

But the story goes on. A day later I was again planning to take public transportation to a town called Orvieto. I had it down this time, with all my trains and buses checked out beforehand. Two other people from the hotel were at the station and as we spoke a bus pulled up on time. We boarded and continued our conversation. It wasn't until a half hour later that I began to wonder where we were (maybe I should stop talking so much....nah). Turns out, we were on the long road to Rome. No one on the bus spoke English and they all tried to explain what we should do. I found out that the next bus back to the train station would be over two hours later.

Then an angel appeared in the form of a doctor from the U.K. who got on the bus. He spoke fluent English and Italian. He told me my best bet would be to go to Rome. I didn't have a bus ticket to get there and there was nowhere to buy one, so he negotiated with the driver to let me on the bus. At the first stop the man from the U.K. brought me to a store to buy my ticket while the driver waited. In Rome he led us to the train we needed and then went on his own way. So instead of Orvieto I was in Rome. What a problem to have. I hadn't planned on returning to Rome on this trip, but I spent the day in the Pantheon, roaming the streets, and seeing sites I hadn't seen before. I had beautiful Roman men handing me their numbers as I shied away. Yep, not too bad when you add in yummy gelato, cannelloni, and beautiful sunshine.

A Tiny Village In Tuscany

787 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

Green rolling hills spread in every direction. Yellow flowers decorated waves of grass as the sunlight created light and shadows along the fields. Groves of olive trees, their silvery leaves shimmering, met rows of vines. I looked out over the vast landscape to the castle on top of the hill. Soriano nel Cimino,  Viterbo Italy, my home for the next ten days.

Unlike when I spent a week in Florence, where tourists marched through the city daily, and locals spoke english, now I'm in a small village untouched by time itself. Each day after exploring the region, the bus drops me  at the bottom of the hill and I begin the long climb up ancient stone stairs, past stucco and stone buildings with bright-colored laundry hanging from the clothesline.

In the square people stare at me. There are no calls of, "Ciao, Bella". Instead, this is a place where everyone has grown up together. Small shops with flowers, shoes, and clothing along with cars that move up and down the cobblestone streets are the only sign that I'm not in the 17th century. People call to one another, each person knowing the other in the town. Teenagers sit in the piazza that overlooks the Tuscan valley, bored of their small village and dreaming of someday leaving. Yet, there is a real community here of family. There isn't one tourist shop with t-shirts or calendars. The only hotel is the one I'm staying in and it's only been in the village for eight years. It has eighteen rooms decorated with the original frescoes.

I pass the square and climb another hill. Here I stop for vegetables in the produce shop, cheese from the butcher, and pasta at the place where the old woman smiles at me and says, "Bella" each time I come in.

Back at the hotel I walk the wide stone steps to the lounge where I look out across the village to the castle high on the hill. Once an Etruscan fort, (the original Tuscan people) the Romans turned it into a prison and now it stands empty. At night it is illuminated for all to see.

The closest town of Viterbo is a half hour drive. Another medieval town, but one that has modernized its outskirts. Here people can go to the cinema and shop in malls. Large supermarkets are available. Other small towns in the surrounding area have large gardens such as Villa Lente in Bagnaia. At one time, the popes ran from persecution in Rome and designed this area with duomos and gardens.

But here in Soriano, there is a simpler life - one that Rome has left untouched. It is a place of long walks and time sitting in the square. Men smoke and drink coffee while they retell stories. And everywhere I look is a view of the Tuscan valley below.

My brain has shut down. I have no desire to do anything but eat and take in the scenery - to walk the streets at night in the quiet. At the hotel, I've met wonderful people who have become friends for the week as we've explored the region. Most of all, I've gotten into my Italy mode - a time where I taste life more deeply and slowly.

Gratitude

788 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

I walked into the peaceful quiet of St. Cronan church. Columns rose in a semi-circle surrounded by large windows which gave view to the lake and allowed the sunlight to caress the wooden altar and stone walls in a soft light. The porous surface of the wall, infused with centuries of burned incense, smelled of spice. I walked in a meditative state, relaxing after my intense drive on winding, small roads with oncoming traffic speeding towards me as I prayed I wouldn't collide. 
I walked outside and looked at the tremendous view. Wow, was my only thought as it had been many times in the last week. Snow-capped mountains surrounded a deep blue lake. Off in the distance was an abandoned castle on the edge of the royal blue water. The bright sky had swirls of soft clouds and a light breeze caused goosebumps on my skin.

I breathed in the fresh air and thought back to the last week: staying on the waterfront in Oban and watching the sun set across the bay each night as I drank wine; walking the hill to an abandoned tower and overlooking the green pastures dotted with sheep; getting lost many times on tiny roads and not caring because the scenery was so tremendous; eating the best fish and chips I've ever had along with Scottish pie; seeing castles at every turn.

I looked at the stone walls of the church. Instead of gargoyles there were bunnies jutting out of the bricks. I thought of my friends Dave and Leann and the pictures they'd sent me the day before of their flowering garden decorated with bunnies. These two people have become a treasure in my life - family. I recalled the emails from friends and family supporting my travels, but also wishing me to come home soon because I was missed. How did my life get this amazing?

In that moment, I remembered the day I made my list. I was broken, feeling as if the pain in my heart would never end. I prayed for something to lift how alone and scared I felt. I don't know why I made that list of dreams. I don't know how it happened, but from that moment my life changed. Not that there hasn't been tough times or heartache, but there have been more blessings, adventures, friendships, love, happiness, and amazement than anything else.

I stood staring at the water grateful for how full my life had become.

Hiking in Heels in the Highlands

874 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

The sun came out in Scotland and I drove north to an area called Fort William, the hiking and skiing capital of the country. The drive was breathtaking as I passed bays surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Castles dotted the landscape completing the idyllic picture.

I was told that I should take the gondola to the top of Ben Ness, the tallest mountain in Scotland to take in the spectacular views. When I arrived in town I went to the tourist office to buy tickets for the gondola, but as I looked at the map I saw a hike to a waterfall. I went to the information booth and asked how to get to the footpath. The woman took one look at my pretty winter coat and my dress boots, and told me that this was a treacherous hike with many slippery parts. I thanked her for the warning and the directions.

Once again, driving in Scotland proved to be misleading. The drive was supposed to take fifteen minutes, and forty-five later I arrived after much turning around and asking for further directions. I think I have used my reverse gear more this week than I do in a year back home.

On the drive I met one of the locals - a highland cow. These guys are so cute you want to hug them like a teddy bear. This one tried to come right up to me when I took his picture, but his horns kept me back.

It was sunny and bright as I began my walk with my winter coat on, my camera on my shoulder, an umbrella and poncho in my pocket and my pretty pashmina around my neck. The walk was easy, but I was warm in the coat. I hung my beautiful coat on a birch tree and continued. The path became rockier and wetter, and I crossed over streams until I came to the snow. By this time, my boots, which were more like socks on top of two-inch rubber heels, were filled with enough water that I felt like I walked in puddles as my socks squished in the wetness.

As hikers, in Gortex and hiking boots, passed me on the narrow path they looked at me with question at my attire. I had to laugh at myself and what I must have looked like to them. I politely told them that it was my coat hanging on the branch further down and to please not remove it thinking it was forgotten.

As I returned to my car, I was happy to find my coat where I had left it. My feet and jeans were soaked, but it was well worth it for the hike into the wilderness. I picked up my jacket just as the rain began. I opened up my fancy umbrella (it actually has lace on the ends) and continued towards the car. Hail began to fall in large pellets. A group of hikers in winter, weather clothing walked towards me. I must have been a sight to them because I heard them say, "The stupid French. They can't even dress casual for hiking."

Bates Motel and A Nursing Home

795 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

I set out from Edinburgh without a plan or a hotel for the next three nights. I was told it would be easy to find B&B's and guesthouses. My plan was to go through Stirling, see the castle, and then head to Aberfoyle to hike in Queen's National Park.

Stirling is a lovely little city, but as with most of Scotland, the city has tiny roads that one car can barely fit down never mind two. With a few wrong turns, I found my way to the castle, saw all of the tour buses and decided to turn around. I was done with being around the mobs (I can't imagine what traveling in Europe would be like during the summer months).

As I got away from the city, beautiful, green pastures covered in a light dusting of snow spread as far as I could see. Within thirty minutes I was deep into the Queen's National forest where tall pines and mountains surrounded me. The snow and wind had picked up. I figured I could still hike - I'm from New England I can handle bad weather. I put my poncho over my fancy coat, put on an extra pair of socks and headed to the forest. The rangers stopped me before I hit the end of the car park. They wouldn't allow me access because they were worried that a tree branch would fall on my head and kill me. I guess people freak out about weather all over the world no matter how small the storm. It really wasn't that bad.

There was nothing to do in Aberfoyle, and the locals suggested I move on towards Loch Lomond. Along the road I saw the most beautiful manor and turned around to check it out. Entering it's beautiful lobby I thought, I've found home for the night. I could curl up with a book next to the fire in the library and stare out at the pastures and hills. I could take some much needed rest. When I asked about staying the woman was more than happy to show me a lovely, little room with a view. Then she said, "You do realize we won't have any other guests tonight? You'll hear quite a bit of moving around, but you'll be alone. I mean there'll be someone on duty in the house and all, but you might not see them." I wasn't sure what she meant by this, but then it dawned on me how old the house was. She never said it was haunted, but I suddenly had visions of a psychopath walking the halls at night and stabbing me in the shower. I decided to move on.

Hours later I was still driving through tiny towns, getting lost, turning around, maneuvering roundabouts till I found myself by this beautiful, small castle around Loch Lomond. I thought, this is my chance to make my dream come true of staying in a castle. I rang the bell and a gentleman opened the door and I walked into a foyer with a sweeping staircase and stained glassed. Just stunning. I asked for a room for the night and the man looked at me with question. I asked again wondering how he could misunderstand my needs.

"This is a nursing home," he answered. "I think you're a bit young for a room." That's when I noticed the distinct smell of a hospital and the fact that he was wearing scrubs for a shirt. DUH!

I moved on, since they wouldn't let me stay, and found my way to a little town called Luss. Nothing was open in town except a small B&B without an inn keeper present. I walked through the quaint town and out to the lake, had a cup of hot chocolate at the local pub and looked up hotels on the internet. My only option was to keep driving around the Loch up to the Highlands and to a little fishing village called Oban.

All in all I drove over six hours that day with only short breaks. The scenery was stunning even in the snow and rain. I found a lovely hotel overlooking the bay with a jacuzzi bath and booked it for three nights. I think I'm better day-tripping from one place. In one day I almost booked a haunted manor and a nursing home. Can you imagine what I would find if I searched for two more days.