lauragagliardi

Toronto and Niagara Falls

Uncategorized

June 28, 2019

Back to Canada! Here we go! I should have spent the afternoon of the 27th in the Canadian city of Toronto, instead what was supposed to be a normal drive of four to five hours, turned into a nightmare. They told me it may have been because of Canada Day and the fact people were planning ahead and moving for the long weekend, but hell no. Well, for being a Thursday afternoon, what I saw was crazier than the L.A. traffic. I eventually left the car in a parking place and went to grab dinner in a sort of Whole Foods close to where the car was. It was dark already, and I did not feel like doing any “exploring”. My mind is still drained and I can feel that I am not moving much on my body as well. I am sore, I feel heavy and simply tired. Time to rest.

In the morning I manage to visit and walk around. The anger, the disappointment, the dislike I experienced last night are luckily gone. Apart from the main photo-worth attractions, I decide to take a ferry ride to Centre Island, even if part of it is flooded because of the weather conditions we had a little bit everywhere in the world this past year. The view from the ferry in phenomenal. The whole skyline spreads in front of me as to say “sorry for last night”, and I enjoy what I see. I really needed a silver lining for this trip which is eventually starting to weigh on me. I am feeling like from the Midwest to East, everything is simply not worth it. I know it is such a bad thing to say, but not everyone feels comfortable in the cities and most of all in people filled places. In the West I had so much land to see, with its variety and all, here if it’s not green land and green hills with light blue skies (which still is something pretty to see) it’s all cities packed with people and traffic. I need more than that. I got spoiled the first two weeks going to National Parks, experiencing the beauties of nature and I feel betrayed now. Yes, even man made creations are nice, the tall buildings, the skyscrapers, spot on architecture, you name it, but I feel different than before. The sense of awe is different, and I long for more nature.

Toronto was honestly really interesting, and I managed to go to places that maybe not everyone go to when they have just a few hours available to visit. I walked everywhere I could, except for that short ferry ride, and I reached a cute street that made me think “great job L, at least you saw this and it is worth the long walk”. Augusta Avenue in the Kensington Market area of historic Toronto was definitely a gem. It was a melting pot of everything. Cultures mixed up together, small food stores, cafes, bakeries, market booths here and there, weird people crossing the streets, tourists, anything you can think of was tehre. I found a bakery where I got my second lunch. A cinnamon bun and a lemon tart. Eh. At Bunner’s Bake Shop I talked to the nice staff telling them I was coming from L.A. just for them (white lie, so well said!). I even had ice-cream at Hibiscus. I needed some sweet to make up for that bitterness from last night.

On my way back to the car I enjoyed the view of that remaining part of the city I walked through, my back was sore and I needed a rest. So a couple of more hours sitting in the car driving to Niagara Falls felt like a good compromise to do so. The spectacular scene that awaits you at Niagara is not comparable to anything else. It is a view that you have to see for yourself to understand, because videos and photos cannot represent in full the massive power and energy that you can feel being surrounded by a force of nature so perfectly done. Despite having thousands of people around you, you can still feel powerless and vulnerable in front of such an amazing scenery. So I stood there and filled myself back up with energy, cuddling my heart again, trying to forget the bad feelings from before. I had to have a couple of friends reminding me why I was doing what I am doing. One made me recall that I had to leave L.A. because it was sucking everything out of me and I wanted to see more of this world. Right. The other, who does not know me much or not that well, but we’re very similar and we think alike, said exactly four words that I needed to hear: “finish what you started“. Raw and real, just like he is. And I smiled. This is exactly what made me keep going. I always finish and finished what I started, I can’t avoid it. Even if I find myself struggle and in pain to finish something –and I may even not do it properly, I just have to reach the end of it, so I’ll do it this time as well. I am almost on the other side of a continent and I need to keep moving. Who’s with me? Oh wait. Never mind.

Chicago, Illinois

Uncategorized

June 26, 2019

What’s up Chicago?!?! I’ve been waiting forever to come see you bud, here you are! Splendid. I wish I could see one of my kids to show me around but nope, not this time, I’m going to explore this city all alone, as usual.

I had to get here late, or better later than expected, because I wanted to stop by a mechanic and ask for a quick check to my wheels as I can now hear a weird noise after they changed my oil and rotated the wheels in Colorado Springs. The guys at the Auto Station couldn’t even hear the sound, so 1. they thought I was crazy and 2. they didn’t do anything except for trying to make me feel a little less concerned about a potentially imminent car crush. They tried to see what was wrong though, for at least a couple of hours, and they were kind enough that they did not make me pay the “consultation”, so before leaving I had already ordered a pizza on GrubHub which got to them 2 minutes after I was on my way to Chicago.

Last night I took it easy. I keep on being tired and can’t figure out a way to recover. I spent the afternoon working on a translation and for a little bit it felt like I actually had a life, in the sense that the motel room disappeared around me and it seemed like I was in L.A. in my apartment, working on something, waiting for the sunset I could see from my windows facing DTLA. Yes, I miss being in Los Angeles. Even though I left because I was feeling overwhelmed by it, I am still longing for the city of angels. After all, that’s where I wanted to go, to move, to live, and I guess she’s waiting for me to come home.

I am so drained I don’t even feel like taking photos or writing about what I am seeing and feeling. I am having a moment, I guess, reaching this part of my adventure, when I am questioning and doubting. Everything. Having technical issues with the car, along with my concerns in general, is not helping, and I am not even enjoying the city as much as I wanted. I feel like I need to be in the wilderness to actually function for this matter. California, Oregon, Washington, Utah, even British Colombia, offered me an escape almost every day, where I could go and free my mind, open up to nature, and touch things. See things. Breathe things. Smell things. Feel. From Colorado on, it’s been green and blue, green and blue, the rain, the clouds, and then Nebraska was nice but did not really pass some good vibes, Iowa was ok, and at least I had a recap of some good music so… what is going on really? I don’t know.

While entering Illinois, two songs accompanied me and they were totally random on the radio station I was listening to: one was Papercut by the Linkin Park, and I am pretty sure I do not need to give another explanation about why this is so important, but most of all, after such a long time I cannot even recall, I heard I’ll be missing you the remake Puff Daddy did with Faith Evans of Every Breath You Take by the Police. Why does this matter? Because this song was the song we dedicated to Michela, a friend from high school who died when we were 16. That year we were in Austria, classmates and friends together, and at a bowling place the song came on the radio. We looked at each other and we thought “she’s here, with us” and since then I always wanted to believe it was true. After all, what are the chances you would hear this song on the radio in 2019? Right. So Ciao Micky, thanks for being here with me today. I miss you too.

This to say I eventually had company today, while visiting Chicago. I took a long walk all over the downtown area, the riverfront and the lakeshore. The parking ticket says 8 hours, so we better believe I have been wandering around for a while, except for maybe those moments I sat at a Starbucks and at Whole Foods where I grabbed lunch. Chicago reminded me that I haven’t been reporting about the smells I sensed in this crazy trip. Every time I was smelling something or having a reminiscence of a place and a time somewhere else, by perceiving some specific odors, I thought “I need to write this on the blog”, and then guess what? I always forgot. I think Portland smelled like my apartment in Sydney, or was it Seattle? Curry and typical Indian Food smell was all over, while Vancouver reminded me of Liverpool. In Chicago, I had it all. A corner smelled like my room at Mount Holyoke College, in South Hadley, MA and the moment I actually recalled it was kind of bittersweet. Somewhere else I smelled fried doughnuts or something, and it reminded me of those nights in September when the nights are getting cooler, and in my hometown there is a town fest where food trucks sell “frittelle”, cotton candy, sweets and caramelized nuts. Then there was a corner that smelled like fried fish, and I was back in those towns on the beach in the Venetian coast, where you walk at night, and all you can do is getting hungry by simply smelling the air. Oh hey, there were also those smelly corners where it seemed like the city had diarrhea, and the putrified smell of sewage were all around, but I tried not to be annoyed by those so much. After all, the city is actually beautiful, walkable, and I enjoyed it, even if just for a day.

At the Millennium Park, in the morning, they were preparing for a music festival that I think had to happen later the same night, and although I actually thought for a moment to stay, and go to that concert alone, as I started doing with pride and honor (chuckle) these days, today I do not feel like having to be social, or alone in the middle of people. Either I am alone and isolated, or not. Alone in the middle of everyone has been my status for so long that I just don’t feel like doing it now. I may be missing a really cool event, but I won’t push myself beyond the limit. My comfort zone sometimes is already too uncomfortable itself, that I don’t need to step out of it to prove something to either myself or anyone else. I wish I were not this tired, and exhausted, and drained. Hopefully I will get some energies back soon.

Nebraska and Iowa

Uncategorized

June 24-25, 2019

Trigger warning: if you are suffering from depression, suicidal thoughts or simply hate everyone and everything around you, read this post at your own risk.

Driving through Nebraska and Iowa drained my soul. Maybe not even in a bad way, I probably needed it to let out a few of those demons I do not even hate that much anymore. A never ending parade of blue sky and green land simply deactivated me and, in addition to the lack of proper sleep with my constant ups and downs, I broke down. Can you be a human being who thinks about death on a daily basis without being depressed? Many think it is impossible, that there must be some sort of mental illness behind it, causing unbalances on a mental level and whatsoever, but after years and years of research, therapies and experimentations, I am confident to say you can. I apologize in advance if this post will cause some distress but hey, deal with it or leave.

First things first, it is not easy to actually finally open up about it, but considering I am a nobody in front of a computer screen, yes I feel a little ashamed, but not even that much. I am not even looking for any sort of understanding, pity, sympathy, whatever really. This is my place and I can use it however I want.

What I have been dealing with since a very young age is not a disease nor some weird form of dysfunctional part belonging to the emotional sphere, it is just who I am. We all have monsters hiding underneath our skin (not literally) — sometimes it’s anxiety, or depression, or BPD, or PTSD, OCD, secrets, traumas, past events, and whatsoever. But my monster is not a monster, it’s just… me. I could try and explain how I feel on a day-to-day basis, or even hour-to-hour, but it would not make much sense, and most of all, it is always changing. “I am moody” we say, and yeah, let’s stick to that. Although some days are better than others. You wake up and you are ok, you do your things, you even interact with other people, and others are just a no. Like no. For real.

What I do not absolutely want to pass with this post, is the message that all this could be the consequence of some sort of recurring trauma, or all due to past events perpetrating through time. No. Mother, I know you may be reading this so stop with whatever you may be thinking. Realizing you are NOT ONLY the result of what happened in your life and in your past is a very big step to take. Because at a certain point in life, it is YOUR responsibility to take action, and either react or just succumb to whatever has been going on, supporting you or taking you down. In any case, that sense of guilt, of impotence, of unworthiness, of being the victim, of not having the possibility to escape the current situation, yadda yadda, all this has to stop. I made it stop and I started researching. I understood why I have specific thoughts, why I cope with emotions with binge sessions (of any kind as of right now) and, most of all, I learned to accept myself with flaws and all.

Having suicidal thoughts does not always mean you are depressed. Thinking of ending this momentary situation on Earth does not always mean you are suffering from pains inflicted by others, or that you are seeking for attention, or that you have a mental illness that has to be cured, or that you hate yourself, someone else, your life, your past, your traumas, your whatever. Sometimes you are totally fine, even content at days, but you are simply aware of the fact that you may totally be a human being that does not completely accept this mortal condition, and being a mortal sucks more than anything else in the whole world, so much so that you start wondering, imagining, picturing what it would be like to not be around.

Oh well, once you drop the bomb it’s kind of annoying to deal with people’s reactions so feel free to judge without necessarily reaching out with whatever messages or advice you may have. Just keep in mind that whatever you or we are going through, doctors can misdiagnose, medications are not always necessary, some therapists do not know shit and they simply want your money, family is not always to be blamed, friends neither, and society simply sucks. Last but not least, if you realized that you may resemble whomever I tried to describe above, welcome to the club. You’ll end up comforting others, reassuring them that you’re fine, that no, you are not going to cut your wrists, swallow pills or jump off that balcony, or something. And by the way, all this is simply weird and confusing and exhausting at the same time because you are retracing thoughts you actually had, and the discomfort you are feeling right now is normal. Again, deal with it.

Wow, who would have thought Nebraska and Iowa would have done this to me? Ha. I guess I should have seen it coming while absorbing the nothingness around me for miles and miles, and after passing the border between the two states, the radio in Iowa started blasting rock and metal music like there is no tomorrow, finally ditching the country music radio stations that, for whatever reason, always have receptions, along with the Christian Music ones. I mean. Ok but …no. Music apparently is my actual true and real therapist. I’ve been to therapists that simply cannot help. No hard feelings guys, you simply cannot. I’ve always denied permission to offer me medications. I know how those work and… they don’t. I mean, for me. I’m not saying you all taking medications should ditch them, but talking for myself, no thank you. I’ll pass. I see how things affect me, things like …actual things, but also people, situations, emotions, food, drinks, books, anything. I am a constantly open lab, I am experimenting on myself and I am learning something new every day, and I am actually glad I can do it.

With all this experimenting, well, I learned. I learned that I am in part my emotions and in part I am not, but what I feel and think in particular moments, are not necessarily real or reality. My perceptions can at times be deviated and may be “capturing” things in the wrong way, so I simply have to be patient and observe. I learned to check facts, to study, to do research and learn more. But most importantly, I learned I’m not “the only person with these things in mind” just like Chester used to sing.

This thing I am doing, traveling without a fixed destination is a clear representation of who I am, of what I am capable of doing, and how I deal with things. I needed it to remind myself that yes, I may have to heal from some pain I endured, yes I may have to face some thoughts I always tried to ignore, as well as accepting that other thoughts I had before are TO ME, simply normal, and NO ONE has the “power” to be labelled as “guilty” for this. Not my family, not my friends, nor other humans, not even society (wait, I am really saying this? Yea, ahh emm) it is just how it is. Every day is different, every day I AM different, and I am still here, I am still living, and at this point, I am simply appreciating the fact that, at least, I realized this world is worth living in. This Earth is a planet worth staying on for as long as we can. And beware of this: I may be saying something completely different in like, a minute or two, but that will just go away, because the truth is that I like this place, in its whole. It’s just that humans are kind of a pain in the butt most of the time.

Last but not least I will conclude with saying that Edwin Schneidman, author of Autopsy of a Suicidal Mind (read it!), notes how there are indeed cases of individuals having spontaneous suicidal thoughts, without depression. Statistics say that “90% of people who die by suicide have a diagnosable mental illness” which leaves a gap of at least 10% of people who dies by suicide, as individuals who are not depressed or having mental illness. You can still think of letting your body sink into the dark waters of the Reservoir next to Brookline, or jumping off the balcony of that seventh floor apartment in West Hollywood. You can still think of swallowing all those painkillers knowing their side effects and consequences of overdosing with them in L.A. You can still see yourself hitting that wall with the car in Italy or crossing the highway while there’s a red light for pedestrians in Melbourne. You can. Let that thought travel through your mind and don’t lock it up. Let it flow. Don’t choke it or it will suffocate you. Embrace it, accept it, let it go.

The first time I thought about death and willing to die I was around 7 years old. I know this for sure because I read it on my first “secret diary” as we used to call it, or journal, that I found and took with me to L.A. last summer. Eye opening. This is who I am, who I was and who I will always be, and I am OK with it. Thank you Nebraska and Iowa for reminding me that. Sorry folks for not having taken pictures of these two States, which I am certain they have cute little areas to be spotted, but I guess it was more important to me, at this point, to take care of this “situation” first. Off to Illinois. See you in Chicago where I’ll be reporting on less serious matters. Cheers.

If you are suicidal, depressed, dealing with any sort of illness and need help, look for your local organization or hospital. A quick google research will open up several possibilities. USE IT.

Colorado, sand dunes and books

Uncategorized

June 23, 2019

It was actually June 22nd that I was in Colorado. I woke up in Pagosa Springs and drove for another hour or so, to reach what is to me a sacred place: sand dunes. Recently I found myself stopping along the way while hiking, to take a moment and actually be grateful for what I am seeing, feeling, smelling, absorbing, rejecting… In Utah, for instance, I sat on a rock facing the arches. No one was around me because people are fundamentally lazy. I sometimes “hate” myself for staying just a short while wherever I am going, taking a too short walk, or hike, but some of us out there really take it to another level. What’s their main purpose while visiting a place? I am not sure, but very few of us humans were opting for walking down the Primitive Trail, which said “difficult” at the entrance, so I had only very few encounters with those of my species, which is something I am really happy about. I took advantage of being almost alone in the area, and sat. Listening to the only sound of the wind blowing through the rocks, reminded me of when I road tripped for the first time with Emily, in 2011. My first time in the Mojave Desert, in SoCal and my first time with real silence. A deafening silence, to use an oxymoron that expresses the unexpected sensation I had. Blessed.

The Great Sand Dunes were packed with people being profane in my sacred place. To reach the dunes you have to walk through a stream of water all around them. All these individuals with inflatables, umbrellas, tents, and more, treating the dunes as regular beach places where you just go to sun bathe and your children pee in the water, made my anger explode. I was expecting silence. I was foreseeing respect, experts of the land handling obnoxious humans: yes you’re allowed to visit, yes you can sand board, yes you can even take your pets and your kids, but you cannot leave Starbucks cups and dogs’ dejections everywhere. I started taking photos to document it. I had to. Spoiled rotten little kids whining, crying, screaming and I was done. Despite how hard it is to walk on the dunes, in the sand, while sinking deep, with the wind blowing sand grains in your eyes, ears, mouth, nose, everywhere, I started hiking up and down, seeing that the further I was going, the fewer people I could see. Just youngsters, in small groups, going all the way up to the high ones to sand board, and that was actually fine with me. I was smiling at them remembering my time in Huacachina, Peru, sand boarding with my BC peeps, riding those funny dune buggies like crazy. Fun times.

Going down memory lane allowed me to release some of the bother and I eventually reached the top, enjoying the view all around me. I sat and I contemplated the wonders of this place. To be honest, I also felt a little sorrow for not having anyone with me to say “See? How amazing” as I could hear many say while passing me by. Everyone had someone having their back, but me. They all had someone rooting for them, “come on, one more dune” or “one more, one more, see the rim? So close!” and I only had the voice in the back of my head with me, which we already know is not exactly what we would define as my best friend. But I endured and I stayed. After a while, being all covered with sand, I just decided to walk down and head North. I was thirsty and hungry, and still had a little annoyance lingering within me, thinking of having to cross path again with those irreverent individuals there, at the bottom. Luckily a friend of mine from Boston moved to Colorado, now living in Boulder, and I can’t wait to get there.

Maintenance Required light: ON. UGH! I have to do a quick pit-stop for an oil change. Colorado Springs seems to be the closest place where I can get it on a Saturday afternoon. Deal. The Pep Boys guys in LA have always treated me with courtesy, so I choose to go visit their colleagues in Colorado. They find a couple more issues on my SiennaMiller but, not having the financial possibilities nor the time to fix those, they kindly change the oil and replace an air filter for me, treating me once again as a valuable customer, and then they just write a note for future reference in case I decide to get everything working properly again. Great attitude is the key. I leave and go back on the road with a few more concerns, but glad I found some nice fellows in here as well as in LA.

The road to Boulder was… soaking wet. I had to go through two storms, a couple accidents and a whole lot of water, but once in Boulder the weather was merciful and I could greet Gabriel, my friend, after two years from the last time we hung out in Boston. Mah “wicked” Bawston. It was so nice to see a familiar face and do something with a friend. We went out right away, to a German place he likes, having the chance to catch up on the past two years of our stooopid crazy lives. The following morning we opt for a Tea House downtown where we have brunch, and then he shows me around. We visit two places he knows I would very much appreciate: a store where they sell old maps called Art Source International and Boulder Book Store. Loved both and bought a book: of course. If I could, I would get hundreds plus a couple old maps and an old, err vintage, wooden globe for my mother, but not now. One day. When my bank account will allow it. We eventually go for a short hike and fall into deep conversations about philosophy, biology, literature, languages, games, art… whatever. Sharing opinions and ideas, even when we disagree on some points, is something I cherish and respect. I could stay and wait for tomorrow, as it will be sunny and warm, but the road is calling. I am going to miss a Dungeons and Dragons night my friend wanted me to go to, but he understands and let me go on my way. I’m grateful for today so I leave content and laid-back. By late night I’m in Nebraska and I can rest for a few hours, thinking about my dogs back home, one in particular –who is old and in pain, and I weep a little, before Morpheus gets me…and tomorrow is another day on the road.

Utah, part two

Uncategorized

June 21, 2019

I reached Arches National Park in Moab, UT after having spent the morning posting updates and driving down South completely lost, or better, absorbed in my thoughts. I received another message from a friend yesterday, thanking me for posting pictures and showing parts of the world she lives in and that she had to add to her bucket list. It really warms my heart to read words from people that find some relief or some inspiration from what I do. I am not the best photographer, nor the best writer, I am simply reporting what I am doing, in case someone may need it, while I need it too to let it out, or it may clog my synapses.

What I am seeing is exquisite which, by given definition, means extremely beautiful and typically delicate. The red soil is already a big attraction to my eyes and my personal taste. All the colors in the darker shades of red, yellow, orange, green, brown have both an energizing and soothing effect on my emotional sphere and I can’t help but enjoy the moment, sometimes without even documenting it on social media if not after a while, and after I unfortunately forgot all the reasoning and mind-blowing thoughts I had while being present in that very moment.

Apart from showing pictures of what I see in front of me, I feel the urge to write also about what is or was going through my mind while experiencing these beauties of nature to honor the effect it has on me and represent. Who knows if this may be of help for someone out there trying to find some answers as well. I “almost” got lost while hiking down the Primitive Trail through the Devil’s Garden in the Arches National Park. I don’t really feel much ashamed about it, because the trail was not clear in its very last part and most of all, it included some rock climbing and steep areas. So what? Well, since that day back in August last year when, while hiking up the Angeles Forest, I panicked and had to go back because of a very narrow part of a trail on a cliff that made my eyes roll back and I saw black, I am now scared. I learned that to me it is so easy to walk up steep areas, but going down is hard. Mentally. I am deadly scared of falling, sliding, not having a grip or something to hold on to in case I feel unstable. My clumsiness is probably one of those sides of myself I hate the most in these moments. Being ungraceful and uncoordinated is not exactly the best description you would give of a person, and it most likely leads to mockery or simply fun jokes, referring to how awkward I may or may not look.

Long story short, after trying to climb all the way up because I saw people who actually reached the top of those reeaally high geological formations, I look around and I hesitate. I feel my legs shaking and I falter a little. I think “here it goes, my fear of death, of falling and dying alone” and I immediately go back to that day in Los Angeles, hiking back down with a sense of disappointment and frustration. This time though, I feel ok. I am confident enough to know I have my limits, I can’t keep doing things just because of my stubbornness: if I feel threatened by it, then I have to leave it. So I did. I turned around, went down using all my four “paws” to have a better grasp on rocks and bushes and got back to the trail. What’s funny is that I noticed that reaching that hard spot, I was also thinking of unwelcoming thoughts, those kinds of food you feed your mind either when you’re tired or when memories are interfering. I guess in my case it was both mixed up together to create an unhealthy potion that led to my feeling of uncertainty, being unstable on my own two legs not trusting my balance.

I still think of when, while in Seattle, I spoke to my friend Jordan and realized how I find myself similar to other people, both from a behavioral point of view and life experiences, family background and all, and the “tactics” we learned to use to cope with what we earned from these life events. I can’t help but sing in my head “when this began, I had nothing to say and I got lost in the nothingness inside of me, and I let it all out to find that I’m not the only person with these things in mind, but all the vacancy the words revealed is the only real thing that I got left to feel…” which is exactly what I’ve been clinging to since probably the second year of high school. When I talk about the importance of music in my life, how fundamental it was to get me through life, up to this moment, some people laugh. If only they knew. Anyway, this to say that once again I had to face the truth and accept that I am not special and that many before, with, and after me will be like me. Similar to a point that, for whatever reason, we find each other in the world. We are like magnets and we end up finding those who can see where we are coming from. How it happens, I wonder. I guess there must be an actual bigger picture we are not fully aware of, but I am sure I won’t let it build up inside of me like it did before. I am here searching for something, and one way or another I will find it.

Utah, part one

Uncategorized

June 20, 2019

I forgot to say that driving back from Yellowstone I witnessed the murmuration of birds, but could not capture it for you to see. Just imagine a flock of birds twisting and turning in unison right before your eyes and the the purple-pink breathtaking sunset over the horizon. Lucky? I know. So grateful. To complete this praiseworthy experience, I had to pull over in the middle of nowhere before entering Utah, because yes it was black all over me (although not completely as the moon was so big, and shining so bright that it was almost lighting up the whole sky! I know, unbelievable, but it’s true), but had to stop and stare at the sky, as it was full of stars. I had to admire the beauty for a bit, and then I kept going.

In the morning I reached Salt Lake City, UT. Except for a quick tour downtown, an even quicker stop at Starbucks and at a gas station, I haven’t really seen the city, did not really feel like it. As soon as I got downtown I felt like searching for a place to hike, so I left. It is making me too uncomfortable to see homeless on the streets, and most of all those who are passed out, lying careless on the sidewalk with people ignoring them. It makes me feel sick, I wish I could help, but then I always remember that time in Liverpool I left food and a couple of Pounds to this guy right next to the hotel where the students I was escorting were staying. The following morning he overdosed right next to us. I felt responsible although I know what I left wasn’t enough for him to do something so extreme, but it touched me deep, and I started questioning if it is actually good for them, or rather for our conscience, to give alms instead of helping them in some other way. I wanted to do it while in LA, some PBJ sandwiches, a bottle of water and an apple in that typical brown paper lunch bag were always on my mind ready to be prepared. I just waited too long for someone to go with me and distribute everything. When I asked my “friends” there to go with me, I got mostly no’s and “yes, as soon as I’m free, too busy now”, which eventually lessened my faith in humanity, time passed, and I was too focused on surviving, so now I’m here. Hopefully I can make it up to it, soon.

Talking about “friends”, how often does it happen for two friends to end up in the same random city, hours away from where we both live, on a random day without planning it, finding it out on Instagram? It happened. I reached out, but apparently people are way too busy to meet at present, even for just a quick coffee anytime during the day. Everyone but me. If I want, I always find even 10 minutes to stop by and acknowledge the existence of people who shared part of their life, either long or short, with me. But that’s the point, if you -want- to do it, you do it, otherwise, you’re too busy. Except while in SLC! After 7 years I got the chance to meet again with one of my favorite married couples I used to work with while in Aviano, at the US Air Force base in Italy. They found the time to meet me, even for just an hour or so; we hugged, we chatted, we laughed, and then they wished me safe travels. Relatively quick but intense, just the way I like it. Thanks guys.

Before driving up North to see them, and then back down South to continue with my journey, I went hiking like I was supposed to. I found some nice trails in Big Cottonwood Canyon and started the day. I realized that driving makes you lazy. You sit there for hours and you get so accustomed to it that, although you need to stretch out, when it’s time to get off and walk you act like a little spoiled brat thinking “naaah, I don’t want to go I just want to rest”! No! Wrong. Bad girl. For instance, when you start walking, first you’re like “ugh, I’m tired” then “uhm, it starts feeling good stretching my legs”, followed by “oh, this is nice”, ending with “cool, I’d do this forever”. Because walking does not really tire me that much. My legs may be a little sore after many hours, but it feels good. I haven’t been on loooong walks since Sequoia. I hiked for I think five to six hours that day. Now I’m just going for strolls and my body is gaining weight for sitting in the car for too long. I need to fix this, because walking does me good, mostly after my surgeries –when I was crying for not being able to walk, and had to learn how to do it all over again, so I need to move. It gets addicting. I feel stupid thinking about this because then my mind takes me to my friend Andrea, who is walking like –for real! He walks with his inoperable cancer to the head of the pancreas defeating every expectations from doctors and experts. He started walking after his life saving treatments, when they sentenced him to the waiting game. I know. Hard to even just think about it. He does it for hours, though. Walking, I mean. Day after day, he walks all over Europe (for now). He wrote a book about this part of his journey on Earth, to be a loudspeaker to those in need, to those who, like him before, are not aware of what pancreatic cancer is, because it is still considered a subtle silent “motherfucking” evil carcinoma. Andrea to me (and many others of course) is a little hero and here is his page. Check him out. You must.

Therefore, after thinking about him, I felt stupid. As far as I’m concerned, I am not taking any tumor for a stroll to try and stay alive, so I should just walk and shut my mouth. I swear I do. I don’t usually talk while walking. It’s my mind that starts rambling. Andrea started walking because he did not want to die, he wanted to live and to make of the short time he has left on Earth worth living (or dying) for. I started walking because I did not want to live, and I had to figure out why. Everybody is different I guess, so please avoid any judgement. I already know all this is messed up. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be here talking about it, don’t you think? Good. Moving forward. My mind took me to those philosophical questions: what is life really? What is death? Life is the opposite of death. Nope. Death lasts a moment. Life lasts for longer. Try again. Ok. What if life is like a Stargate? What if life itself is the actual portal between the cosmos, and we are all just travelers? Death –seen as the end of everything, does not really exist, and life becomes this temporary status we get while traveling between“worlds”. Someone passes through the Stargate for minutes, some for a few years, some for almost a hundred, but eventually, everyone leaves the Stargate and keeps traveling. We are only allowed a certain amount of time because on this planet we need a mortal body to travel, as if our body is our passport to enter the Stargate. So the body is the passport, not the Stargate, just to make it clear. When we’re not on Earth, or let’s say “alive on Earth” we are dead here, but we may be alive somewhere else because we’re just going through Stargates! We can’t be “non-infinite” in an infinite universe. Come on! “Matter is neither created nor destroyed” right buddy, Antoine? (Lavoisier) And neither is energy, says my other friend J.R. (Mayer), both endorsed by Albert (Einstein) eventually; so what am I even talking about here? It should be obvious! Can we please talk about it? Let’s chat. Drop a line.

On a less crazy level, one thing that actually stroke me these past two weeks is how I am falling in love with all the places I am visiting. I am seeing beauty all around me, despite a few flaws here and there, mostly created by humans, not by nature, and I am amazed at this feeling because when I get to the point of thinking “ah, I would stay here at least a little longer” I know that something got me and it scares me. It frustrates me really, because I have to leave, but I like the fact I am loving everything around me, and maybe this is what I need. I need to learn what love means, in order for me to start loving myself. That, I am sure, will make me heal, inside. I guess this Stargate was broken and the whole point of me getting here was to fix it. Explained why I am a fixer. I fix broken things. And all the broken people with their broken Stargates are attracted to me somehow. I am laughing so hard right now, at my own imagination, that if only I could be good enough to make a living out of it, I would probably hit the jackpot.

On a last, lighter note, much lighter note: am I the only one thinking that being a biped sucks? Yeah no, because, it may just be that I am simply clumsy and I always trip over my own two feet, but I would feel much more confident if I were a quadruped. In addition, when I dream of running away from something in my sleep, I always end up switching on all fours, grasping on the ground below me with my hands, gaining velocity, because while standing I couldn’t move and was stuck, now I can run away from whatever is chasing me (in my dream) and I also am doing it fast. Was I quadruped in my previous life? Jokes apart, is bipedalism a flaw in evolution, instead of this great hallmark adaptation? Ah, the joys of questioning everything and anything, along with the pleasure (or not) of never having the right answer, but a gazillion silly hypothesis. Let’s head out for the rest of Utah, shall we?

Yellowstone National Park

Uncategorized

June 19, 2019

I am not sure I can express with the right words what Yellowstone is to the eyes of a binge watching queen. It’s like watching 10 seasons of 20 episodes each, all in one day. It is impossible I know, but that’s the feeling you get at taking part of this experience. It’s unbelievable. It’s majestic. It’s sensational. It’s phenomenal, extraordinary, perfect. Guess what? I spent years thinking “Oh, I wish I could go to Yellowstone, but who knows when I’ll be able to make it! Maybe never” so to quote Brendon Urie “hey look Ma, I made it”, which was, by the way, the only song the only remote radio station I could get in the park was broadcasting continuously, along with only two more songs. And the message saying “this broadcast was authorized by law one two three as this and this is now authorized to broadcast on channel one-ou-two-point-something”. On a loop. For at least 8 hours. Yes. Indeed. But who cares really when you’re in freaking YELLOWSTONE? Ya.

After last night and the storm, I thought I would wake up with bad weather having to opt for something random to do today, instead at 6AM I opened my eyes and the sun was out. Yes. Perfect. Thank you. My sore limbs inspired me to go for a run around the falls in Idaho Falls (duh) so I did. A little bit of music in the morning, and I am good to go, so off to Yellowstone, WY we go. I feel weird while driving. I can’t help but ponder on two messages I received this morning. One was from a friend I never met in person, but we worked together for an online magazine back in the day. It was one of those messages that breaks your heart, but at the same time warms it up. My stories are actually doing some good, and like I said on the first day, if I can be helpful even just for one person, then I did my homework properly. I am always thankful for such messages, and I wish I could do more. The other was from an old friend, who is now traveling the world helping people in need with her boyfriend. About this, go check them out because what they’re doing is pretty awesome, and she is simply an amazing person. Their project is called “A gadget for life“. Click on it. I drove with the feeling those two messages left within me, and I started the day with the right mood, opening up to my beloved Pachamama once I managed to find myself surrounded by it, in amazing, phantasmagoric Yellowstone National Park.

I am not going to blather today, as I want this to be a post for you all who are loving what I am doing, while seeing the world through my eyes. So this is for you. I really wish each and everyone of you could be here today. The beauty of this place soothes your soul, for real, and we all would need a soul massage every now and then.

Welcome to Heaven. Enjoy.

Idaho Falls

Uncategorized

June 18, 2019

Another day, another long drive. Not as excruciating as the one taking me from Canada back to the United States, but evidently my body cannot take it anymore. My legs are often sore, and despite those times I could hit the gym, it wasn’t enough. I HAVE to find the time to move, I brought my boxing gloves and my hand wraps with me, but I haven’t even used them yet. Bad girl.

I woke up in Missoula, MN, quick pit stop at Starbucks which is getting repetitive I know, but what can I do? I got my breakfast drink (today I got black tea soy latte and it reminded me so bad of Melbourne, because that is what I used to have for breakfast at my former prison-movie set house in North Melbourne. Ha. Memories. I’m still waiting for someone to invent a pill so we can choose which memory to keep and what to delete. Just putting it out there). Anyway, oh well, oh well, oh well. If my eyes could speak… wow. What I saw today I am 100% sure is the prelude to what I am going to see tomorrow, if the storm hitting Idaho right now will allow me. I won’t spoil the surprise, and I am also a little superstitious so I won’t say where I’m going yet, also because I may end up not going because of the weather, we will see. Also, no destination, remember?

I reached Idaho Falls early this afternoon after having had my mind blown by the spectacular views I experienced on the way. I’m still saying “wooooo”, “waaaaaa”, “ohmyyyyy” because it was simply all glorious! It makes me laugh that, on the radio they were talking about how people complain about taking road trips in certain States of the US because you can drive for hours and see nothing but land, no sign of civilization, getting bored and tired. I was like “whaaaat? That’s the beauty of it all!” You can just sit, drive and enjoy the view for hours. With colors changing, shapes moving, flat lands alternating with mountains, hills and plateaus! I mean, how can people even dislike such things!! Are we going completely insane? Being out of civilization, like they called it, crossing only those who are out there doing probably the same thing you’re doing, and you feel like complaining? HolymotherofbabyJesus humans are nuts.

When I stopped to put gas in the tank at Leadore, ID, the woman at the register told me how she was seeing only travelers today, more than usual. She had people going South, East, bikers going all the way up to Alaska and then there’s me, going who knows where, but it was nice to be considered among those who actually know what they’re doing with their life. Chapeau. Before passing the Idaho “border” again, I could enjoy the green of Montana with cows, horses, goats, birds, …well, animals everywhere, and it was nice to greet them, even though they couldn’t hear me, nor they wouldn’t care. I just smiled every time I had to drive through these old towns, looking like the ghost towns in the Spaghetti Western style movies, all lined up facing one big main road, with wood everywhere, dusty porch and all, saloons… and most of all, I was loving the typical wooden entrance of all the ranches I was passing by; folkloric and picturesque to say the least. Quaint and cute.

Maybe because I saw it in the movies, or because you’re used to see these landscapes in the documentaries, I was not impressed by the existence of these places, because I know they do exist; rather I was in shock they could hold such a charming and eye-catching allure by simply being empty pieces of land on a never ending scenery stretch. Wow. Just wow. I have to say that I was really getting lost in my thoughts and it all seemed infinite by the time I reached Idaho Falls, but it was so worth it. I did so many stops to take photos, to sing a song in the middle of nowhere, to wear that beam of satisfaction on my face while making a 360-degree spin to enjoy the view. Precious. Enchanting. Keep adding whatever adjective you want, you have it.

Always in Idaho Falls I found once again an amazing waterfall right at the center of the city, so I took my time strolling down the riverbanks, sitting on a rock, listening to my music first, and the sound of the water crashing and flowing after, watching how the swallows were playing in the wind, flying low, brushing the water and the foam, without getting trapped (thank goodness), and then going all the way up in the sky again, and it was just hilarious. I thought “I am saying I am enjoying my freedom, but I wonder. If I call what I have freedom, what is what they’re doing over there? It’s like the Super Saiyan version of actual freedom, I believe!” until I’ve decided to take it really easy today, and take advantage of a pool I had available. I kid you not, the very moment I sat on the chair, 30 seconds in, I get an Alert message on the phone regarding a tornado approaching, warning everyone in the area to find shelter. Explained why the afternoon was so windy, but hell, a tornado right now that I wanted to chill under the sun? Welcome to my world. Pick up the towel, go back to where it all began, and wait for this tornado to pass. Eventually it was just a storm. Then the sun came out but it was already time to set, so no tan for this lady. And the night has come, bringing another storm, until I’ll close my eyes and will wait for another tomorrow to come. Bring it on!

Spokane, WA and Missoula, MN

Uncategorized

June 17, 2019

After driving for hours and hours yesterday, I eventually decided to stop in Spokane, Washington State. Why? Go figure. It’s one of those cities I’ve always known it existed because I could hear it mentioned in a song or read it somewhere, and I also realized that, the way it is pronounced in one of the songs I know, it is actually the wrong pronunciation. Jolene by Ray LaMontagne sings “Cocaine flame in my bloodstream, sold my coat when I hit Spokane” making it rhyme like cocaine, instead… it’s Spo-KEN. Whatever. Right now I am dead tired and I need to sleep. I drove for around 8 to 9 hours, I took a few rest breaks, but they were not enough to stretch my legs properly, so I often had to change position to let the blood flow again on my poor little toes. Plus, all those hours I missed sleeping (or better, not sleeping) here and there before, until today, are weighing me down. Deep down. I decide to find a motel room and as soon as I hit the bed, my eyes couldn’t stay open, and I fell asleep.

When I woke up this morning I had a brand new day in front of me, until I realized there is not really much to see in Spokane. Or so they say. My friend Jordan was kind of right when last night, before falling asleep, he called me and told me “there is nothing to do or to see in Spokane, go somewhere else”; but I stayed anyway. I took advantage of a “rest day” to journal and to keep up with the things I had to do, teaching on line included, which eventually ended right before I started driving towards my last stop of the day. I spent the morning at a Starbucks, by now my go-to place where I honestly just feel safe and inspired to write. Mr. Starbucks, I am addressing you once again: in case you wanted to sponsor me, considering also all the money I spend on drinks to have an excuse to stay and use your wifi and restroom, I am here. I would also come all the way back to Seattle, if that’s the case. Pick me, choose me, love me, as Meredith said to Derek (come on, everybody knows this quote!). I then found a cute place where a nice man sold me a bottle of CBD oil (no, not the one with THC, I am not planning on getting high and dry; CBD oil as pure hemp oil, is just like any other herbal supplement you could get, just google it and stop judging. Get informed, you fools!) because I find it useful to get some relief from joint pain and whatsoever. If you want to check it out, they have an online shop too (just click on _shop_). Worth a shot.

I finally walked along the river front, where I saw the waterfalls right at the center of the city. See? There is definitely something to see in Spokane as the weather was perfect, the light was just right, the sky and the clouds reflected in the water and the whole picture looked like a painting. I enjoyed it for a bit while walking and ended up spending a whole afternoon doing nothing special, just enjoying the “free time” before two hours of teaching on line, parked behind a Starbucks (again) with people passing by thinking who knows what; maybe that I may have been a criminal or something. Right at sunset I could finally hit the road again, and I’ve decided to reach Missoula, in Montana, always without a clue of why I picked that city but, as I keep on playing by ear, I want to believe there’s some sort of good instinct behind my decisions, and to me, this is more than enough. On the way, beside the splendid sunset I could witness, thanks to a storm coming from the opposite direction, I stumbled across road works, which seemed to never end, angry truck drivers speeding way more than cars while chasing you with those big bright headlights, and a thunderstorm. Yes, lightning and all, while swishing and slaloming from Washington, through Idaho up to Montana. But I wanted to get there as I feel this need to have network coverage or mobile connection whenever I stop to sleep somewhere, because you know? You will never know. Better safe than sorry. So instead of opting for a rest area in the middle of nowhere, this time I chose a spot in the city. Missoula is more of a big town than an actual city, so I haven’t even felt in danger; I just fixed everything for the night (which came sooner than expected because I am now in another time zone), uploaded a few photos on Instagram, and fell asleep in a very uncomfortable position, which eventually had its side effects the following morning on my poor old neck and back. I know, I’m too old for this sh*t. Just shush.

Crossing Borders

Uncategorized

June 16, 2019

Leaving Vancouver early in the morning I had the chance to go see two or three spots I did not have the chance to visit yesterday. I left downtown and went to a place called Sea to Sky Gondola, but of course I haven’t really used the attraction. All these people-filled places are a no-no, also it opened at 9AM or so and I was there at 6ish. Win. I just wanted to hike a little and be within nature before heading back to the US of A. At the end of a trail I found this amazing waterfall where I spent some time thinking of the last few days I spent on the road: I was… pensive. I chuckle remembering when I used this adjective once, and my boss at the time, a captain for the US Air Force, smiled at me congratulating the way I could choose the right word every time. Meh. I like words, but I don’t spend much time using the right ones when I talk. I guess. I don’t know. Stooopid reminiscences.

I had to see it by how the day started that something was in the air: the radio was bothering me, songs were not fitting the mood, so I decided to plug in my iPod instead. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Or maybe not actually, I needed it in that moment, I have to stop complaining. Fair enough. The road back to the US was long but easy today, architecturally speaking. No massive u-turns, mountain steep roads, or whatever you want to call it, just a long drive that allowed me to set the car on cruise mode most of the time, and think. Like always. Or more. Maybe more. Definitely more. I think that, if I had a few more hours in front of me, I could have easily gone back to my very first thoughts while still inside my mother’s womb for how far I stretched my mind. Being exhausted both physically and mentally does not really help in similar cases, I guess.

A whole whirlwind of thoughts started uncovering those parts of my reason I thought were settled by now. Never underestimate the power of nature and the consequences it brings on us poor stupid mortals. Experiencing the beauties around me non-stop affected my senses in such a way, that even the most futile scene would make me tear up a little. I texted a friend after being overwhelmed by the power those waterfalls infused in me, saying that this life and being alive is so freaking painful. It is so damn frustrating to know we all have to die and leave this world. The treasure of this planet basically leaves you speechless every time you see it for what it originally is (humans excluded. As machines we’re perfectly done, but as animals with a sort of personality, most of us suck! Eh. I had to say it). Above all, my heart cracked open when, in tears, I apologized to nature herself, for spending the majority of my life wanting to die. It still happens at times, but since the day I decided that the world is worth seeing, suicidal thoughts are not a constant element in my equation. (Goddamn I dropped the bomb. Eh, raw and real, take it or leave it!). I still have my down moments, yes, but I am really trying to keep those thoughts as far away from me as possible, because I saw what I am capable of, and the moment I reached out for help I knew I was doing the right thing. Although “help” did not help eventually (long story short: bureaucracy and lack of proper insurance are a bad combination), what really changed my brain, I believe, was when I have decided to leave for this adventure. It felt like turning on the light in a pitch black room, I could almost hear the click of the switch when I thought: fuck this pseudo therapy (which is not helping, like I said), fuck people not seeing my worth, fuck me in the first place, for not trying harder, for wanting to give up, for missing out on nature and animals, fuck everything and everyone really, I’m off. To the world. For more than 30 years I struggled, not knowing where I belong, for feeling like an outsider everywhere I went, for feeling different. I got it now: I not only belong to Planet Earth. I belong to the Universe. End of discussion. We all do. It’s just that most of you wanted to find a smaller place where you can feel comfortable. I don’t. A place with coordinates dictated by prerogatives and canons created by men for men are not for me. Thanks, I’ll pass. I already have to succumb to most of your societal rules, so …now “anche basta!” (reads: un-keh bus-tah > lit. enough already! – for the pleasure of my Italian readers, ELLE-OH-ELLE ). We have the infinite ahead and all around us, why settle for less?

While the music was playing I kept on having epiphanies that set me up for an emotional overload, eventually leading to a blend of screams, tears, and hysterical laughs, all-together-holding-hands. Sigur Rós’s Sæglópur played right before Breathe by the Prodigy, and I laughed, so hard. The crystal clear representation of who I am: a loving, soft, sweet song with crescendos and peaceful innuendos, as well as a –quoting the song– psychosomatic, addict, insane electronic sound based melting pot of words, screaming out loud for pain and frustration. Makes total sense. Well, at least to me. I should have known better, and realized that taking me to a road trip like this, solo me, myself, my fears, my strengths, altogethershinyhappypeople holdinghands, would actually be like taking my full spectrum of emotions to Six Flags for a deadly rollercoaster ride. 100 points, Laura. You win. Not really, but still. Here I am. I heard the voice in my head going: remember when the Linkin Park were singing “freedom can be frightening if you’ve never felt it”? Yes. Yes, indeed. Freedom is amazing, and it is addicting. So much so that why would you even go back to where you started now that you tasted it? Why would you want to leave this place called Earth when you started receiving blessings coming from nature and all? Can someone please explain to me how you deal with having all this taken from you? Asking once again for a friend. It’s like the post-concert depression that hits you right in the face, do you know why? Because your soul needs it, it constantly longs for sound, music, art, freedom, good vibes, joy and enjoyment, all of it, you name it, but once it’s taken from you, from your soul, you shut down. Your offended soul is saying: fuck you, take me back to that place or I’ll make you live in misery. Said and done. It -your soul, wins. So now you tell me, how am I supposed to go back to …nothing? How?

Therefore I cried, and I laughed. I sang, and I danced. But I was free. Free to do, to think, to say whatever the heck I wanted. We should add “Driving meditation” to the list of possible meditations one can have: shower meditation, transcendental meditation, and driving meditation. Until you reach the border. No meditation there. Although they would totally benefit from it. Because, you see, you forgot your passport in the trunk so you get off the car, open it, find your backpack, take out the documents, get back in the car, move forward a little, and Baam! The officer slams you with stupid questions and typical “border attitude”. Strict and serious (too much for the way I like it), she let me back in the US, warning me for future reference: never get out of the car. Never move or do something different than what requested by the officer. Answer questions without sarcasm (these people really can’t handle sarcasm uh?) or next time you’ll be “gunned down“. Quoting literally. Welcome back to the US, I guess. Come find me, bitches.

Vancouver, oh Canada!

Uncategorized

June 15, 2019

I left Seattle at night and found a rest area to catch some quick z’s before reaching the border, as I thought it may have been a long wait. Not too long, but I had to wait in line. Every city I am visiting (except for San Francisco) is leaving me a good feeling of “it could be nice moving here”, Santa Cruz above all, of course, but I know it would be like my Malibu, in the sense that even now, living in LA, Malibu is my secret escape, so I can’t really be there for long, or I’d get tired. Habit and flatness bore me, and I’d rather have my favorite places to turn to when things go wrong or I need a refill of energy and good vibes. Therefore, Santa Cruz: stay golden and I’ll come see you again. Portland was cute, Seattle was compelling. Damn, this world is beautiful. I so wish I could do this forever but with better circumstances, something like getting paid to go from place to place and do something good for the world. Yes, society yes. For society, despite the anger, the frustration, the dislike and all. My aversion for those I call “children of society” is clear, I know, you can see it in my eyes after a few minutes in a conversation. But I also know I have to accept compromises every now and then, so… I’m a grown up, at times, I know what the deal is, yo.

Before entering Canada, early in the morning, I did laundry and re-packed my Sienna, nice and clean. I am ready. With my mind full, my stomach empty and a sore body, I waited for my turn in line, dancing a little to wake me up and face the last hour or so of driving, before entering Vancouver. The officer was nice, he asked the same old questions: why are you here, where are you traveling from, what’s your job, where do you live, how long are you staying, do you have alcohol, drugs, whatever… yadda, yadda, I was in Canada. Again. After almost 10 years. Weird. Fun. Vancouver looked pretty and well-ordered, downtown seemed to be less chaotic than the cities I spent the last days driving through, and I could easily find a parking garage where I left my car for the whole day while visiting and walking around. Many are complaining to me, saying I can’t see much of a city in just one day or even less, which is partly true, but I am here to steal with my eyes whatever I can, I am not on vacation. I noticed I am basically binging on all this driving and seeing places, so it just turns out my binging habits will never leave me alone. Nice. All I can say in my defense is that I know. I know you should stay longer to appreciate anything: the city itself, the food, the places, the people, but where would I stay? What I am doing is different than what people do when traveling around. I feel like Truman when sailing away to prove his doubts were real. I am sailing away with an unknown destination, to see if my reality is actually true. I need to touch with my hands the end of this bubble called Earth. How about that?

The first thing I want to do is seeing the city, and I find a place where you can actually see it from above: the Top of Vancouver Tower has a lookout area right below the Restaurant, where I obviously could not go for now, but who knows? If I’ll be able to go back in the future, I’ll hit the restaurant with a view, first. I sometimes feel like I am doing all this as if I had to die tomorrow. (Scroll shoulder, who knows) Ergo I gotta run run run and see see see things. Who knows, maybe I am dying tomorrow, or the day after. On a happier note, I managed to have a great meal at a vegan spot called Indigo Café, and a banana muffin with a lavender tea latte in a place called Waves so I could get wifi and update you all. I spent the afternoon walking up to Stanley Park which is immense. All went well, until I saw the horse-drawn tours offered around the park. Is it really necessary to treat horses like trucks dragging trailers with up to fifty passengers? I mean, I would already complain for a carriage holding two people, but like this? With only two poor horses pulling like there’s no tomorrow? Appalling. Those creatures looked tired and sad, so I approached them and started petting their noses. They let me share some loving, wishing I had some kind of telepathic connection I kept on telling them “I’m sorry little horsey, I am sorry. We’re trying” and for a moment I thought they could feel it, to the point that after a minute or two, they would push their head against my hand as to say “we know, thank you for trying”. Each of the four wonderful beasts would let me loving them for a really short bit, while people around me stared as if I were some kind of a joke human, or a hipster who turned out pretty bad-resembling one. I don’t know, I only cared about those animals, having to suffer with the heat, under the sun and all. I confess I cried a little while gazing at their big round black eyes, I suppose they saw that. But you did not. So photo or it never happened. No photo, sorry.

Apart from the inconvenience with the exploitation of animals, Vancouver still left me with good vibes. I found a place called “Vancouver Pen Shop” where they were selling everything for writing, writers, anyone… pens, paper, journals, books, anything I love. And it took me back to when I used to ask my brother, me being a young girl, annoying and demanding, to bring me home a gift from the city he lived in, while studying at the University, and he used to ask: like what? “Like…a pen! Just a pen. I’d love to have a new pen“. Eh, cwazwy. Mo’ memories, mo’ problems. Anyway, I could easily walk from one side to the other of downtown, and I enjoyed the walk and the view, although it would have been nice to have someone with me, to stop somewhere for dinner, or sharing the view, I don’t know. I get this feeling every once in a while, but for the rest I’m ok on my own, having no one to account for, adapt to, or report to: where are you? What are you doing? What time …this? What …that? Blaaaaah. Getting tired by the minute here so I ended my excursion and waited till the morning to see a little bit more before leaving, looking for my companion -the road, to join me on my way back to the US.

Portland, OR

Uncategorized

June 13, 2019

Keep Portland weird

…says the famous mural in downtown Portland, Oregon. I left my last spot in California this morning after having fixed a couple of things on the website, posted on Instagram for the curious ones, and a quick run to wake me up and keep me going. As I haven’t been drinking caffeine for so long, in moments like this when I don’t sleep much and I just drive, drive, drive, I wish I could rely on this wonderful substance to just keep me awake, but I’ll resist. Sometimes I believe getting the decaf at Starbucks will trick my mind in thinking I am having the actual coffee so that a spark of energy comes without the side effects affecting my troubled heart.

It’s a wonderful sunny day in Portland, but Google maps wants me to have the first dumb moment of the day, taking me to a public parking lot, which is not eventually public, so I have to pay a 7$ fee for 10 minutes. Welcome to Portland I guess. So instead of looking for “public parking” on Google maps, lesson learned and I just look around, finding out that Portland has parking structures basically anywhere. I finally find my spot on the first SmartPark structure close to me, and I start exploring. The sun, we all know this already (don’t we? hmm), makes everything look better to my eyes, so I start strolling looking like a baby girl with a lollipop, toddling down the streets of this curious city. I finally find that VooDoo Doughnut place I once read about on VegNews. Yes! Vegan donuts for the win win and I’m off to the waterfront where I can walk in peace to have it and chew in peace. Oops, nope, wrong. I can sense the eyes of the people weighing on me while passing me by, and I think “oh shit, what now? Do I look dumb? Can they sense that I’m not from here? Is something wrong with me?” until this guy approaches me while talking to his two friends and their baby, playing on the side of the boardwalk. I can’t hear the first words he says because of my headphones, so I take them off and I ask “excuse me?” and he goes “you can’t just walk past us with a box of donuts!” with a nice look on his face, which does not bother me as it did when these other guys tried and talked to me in Santa Cruz. Why? Eh. It must have been Jupiter aligned with Venus this time or whatever. I smile back and I tell him that it’s only one donut actually, my dinner, otherwise I would have offered. We keep talking for a couple of minutes with the other friends too, they suggest places I could go to, being in town for just one day, and then I leave pleasantly surprised by my open reaction (must have been the thought of eating the donut soon!).

I easily find myself walking up and down the one-way streets, noticing how Portland reminds me of those typical cities I am used to either travel to or to live in: Boston, a smaller version of New York, but most of all, Melbourne. Downtown Portland took back memories of Melbun, the docklands, the walkable streets with trams and buses, the bridges, the dark bricks of the buildings… everything so very different than what I got so used to see in Los Angeles. So. Very. Different. While taking some photos I stop at the gym to see if I can use a guest pass, and my positivity today helped me score a pass I was not qualified to get confirmed, due to me not being local. Instead, this kind guy helped me made it happen. The following morning at 5 I would be at the gym. This is getting weird I know. I am aligning to the weirdness of Portland maybe, who knows. I continue my tour of downtown, and I can still sense attention towards me. Am I that obviously foreign here? Then this man with a camera in his hands stop me, and kindly asks if he can take a photo of my shirt that says “Find what feels good“, a token I got from my she-ro’s website, Adriene Mishler, a great yogi I started following while still in Boston almost five years ago. Dang. Time flies. I tell him to cut out my face from the picture, he says what a waste yadda yadda, and eventually he shows me the photo of this head-less person wearing a nice tank top that may have been the reason why people kept on staring at me. I would have never thought that shirts with a message could capture people’s attention in such a way. I should wear slogans more often. Maybe more meaningful ones. Or maybe not. I don’t like to be stared at. Duh.

I feel kind of tired, so I just try to be comfortable for the night, waiting for the morning to come to see a couple more thing before leaving for our next stop, and unfortunately I can’t sleep. After a troubled night, I head to the gym in the morning, but I am too tired to accomplish anything, so I just run a little, take a shower and take off. It’s a sadly grey kind of morning so I decide to look for a few more murals to get snapshots and possibly a city view. I find Pittock Mansion at the top of a hill, but the view is not really that nice, maybe at sunset it would be cool, but I need to leave way before then. The road is calling. Moreover, being 6AM on a cloudy day, the crisp air is not enjoyable with my wet hair and most of all: there is almost no one around and it feels creepy. I reach the stunningly beautiful mansion and the parking lot is empty but open. After a really short walk I see the terrace where it says “scenic view” and there is a man standing, texting on his phone while facing the city view: a runner, considered his outfit. I get closer and he does not even notice me at first. Probably not even at second. Or third. Jokes apart, I get a sense of mystery in his energy, my mind starts making up potential stories with this person. Was he texting his ex? His current wife? His husband? His mom? Who knows. What was he saying? “The city looks beautiful this morning, just like you. Wish you were here”? (vomit) or maybe “I know you hate me but I miss you” (better), “yo, what’s up?” (super bad!)… I mean, billions of possibilities, and I basically had a whole movie ready in my head in a matter of seconds. We both left, he started jogging, I got in the car. The end. The most boring movie ever.

Now, I just have time for a couple more snapshots and then I have to move. I hike for a half hour to find what is called “the Witches’ castle” and when I find it I am so disappointed I just don’t even care about it much anymore and I turn around quite fast. On the contrary, I find the last cute murals and I leave Portland content enough. I felt like Alice sliding down the Rabbit Hole. Wooden house alternating brick-stone houses, forests and hills, city life and nature filled place. A little Wonderland for sure. The memories it brought back, and the idea of being a livable city (and among the most vegan cities in the US) let me gave Portland good ratings, and so my last words were not “good-bye” but “see you again someday, PDX”.

Oakland, CA and Mt. Shasta

Uncategorized

June 12, 2019

I slept in Oakland, CA close to San Francisco, so I could at least spend a little more time in the Bay Area and call it a day. Around 4AM I started packing and moving, thinking of hitting the gym with a free pass to work out a little bit, but most of all to get a free shower. The power to shower anytime, anywhere, guys, is so underestimated. Enjoy it when you have it. After having two gyms (oh yeah, because in the US some gyms are open 24/7 in case you did not know) turning me down despite the free pass request, only Planet Fitness let me in. A kind guy just input my data, said “no problem, go ahead” and I could finally run on the treadmill for a while, get some exercises done —like I am used to do during my boxing classes, and I was content. Shower and all, I was ready to go at 6AM. Oh the things you can accomplish when you wake up that early, but most of all when you don’t even sleep much. Fantastic!

Instead of opting to drive right away, I wanted to spend some more time there, so for today I’ve decided to have breakfast at Starbucks, my favorite place to chill, free wifi, you can charge your phone, your computer, you can use the restroom… and my app is always collecting points to get rewards so… at a certain point I get free drinks and that’s cool. I feel like Starbucks always has my back, despite not having many vegan options ( by the way, dear Mr. Starbucks, could you please add a vegan croissant to your menu? I swear it would be sold out everyday, big win, huge deal, please consider having it along with the other delicacies. Pretty please!). I found the closest to where the gym was and I drove there. I spent some time drinking my decaf mocha –remember I’ve been caffeine free since November 2018, while uploading photos on Instagram and posting on here to keep you all updated in case you were interested. Aaaand I also did it for myself to let out a few thoughts that were bugging me, probably even because I was sleep deprived or so.

Once my hair dried up and the post was published, I was ready to go and pick my next stop: searching through the map I see that Mt. Shasta, a mountain my yogi friend Monica said “it would be a perfect place for you and your spiritual awakening”, is not too far so… let’s go. It is actually a dormant volcano; I wonder if I am that powerful enough to wake it up? Guess what? Of course not. Not only that, when I finally find the visitor center at Mt. Shasta city, and ask for info on how to get to the mountain, the kind woman at the desk tells me that, being still covered in snow the hiking trails are mostly closed, but there are several others around the area, even down there from the Lake Siskiyou –she points South, where you can get a clear and pretty view of the peak and you can take pictures. Nicely said woman, you got me at pretty views. Too bad the sky was a little overcast so the photos did not turn out particularly nice, adding to that my total inexperience in photography… and the die is cast. But who cares really, when I could see with my own eyes this place that many today consider a point of convergence of significant global powers, making it a destination for many New Age, Spiritual retreats.

I am not sure if it was because of the fact I haven’t slept much, or because for the first time in my life I went to the gym at 5 AM, or simply because by chance the only radio station I could “receive” started playing songs I used to listen to in my teenage years and early twenties, if it was the power of Mt. Shasta trying to talk to me through the only tool I trust, music… but the mind-fuck I experienced today I can honestly say it is one of a kind. The rollercoaster of feelings I’ve been going through for less than a week now might have screwed me up a little, and pardon my French but it is actually the only way I can describe this weird status I felt trapped in when these songs started playing on the radio. In my own weird way I always believe there is some kind of message in the random songs I can listen to throughout the day, ergo I prefer having the radio on instead of pairing my iPod with the stereo. (Although, even my iPod is set in a way that songs shuffle randomly without me picking them!)

I was tired, it was so hot outside, I needed a nap, I wanted to go up the mountain and I couldn’t, I found myself a spot in a disperse campground and tried to nap. You all know those dreams you have when you are so drained that you easily fall asleep in the REM phase but it feels like you are still awake or something, right? You are still aware of everything going on around you, but at a certain point you are actually sleeping, or at least dreaming. Ok well, this to say it happened to me. I mean, it’s nothing new, at least in my case, but it happened right here, today that I’m close to this place, where people think I could find some “spiritual help” and these “visions” come to me as if to say “haaa, loser let’s play with your feelings”! Well, very well, thanks Universe or thank you to whomever this may concern. All those songs playing took me back in time, the memories messed up with my dreams, a whole mess that ended up in myself feeling strangely weird, wanting someone close to me in this moment, because I cannot be here alone, I need to share this with someone. Well, too bad, because I am here alone and no one can change that. Blame the songs. Among many others, I was tortured with Seven Mary Three’s Cumbersome, songs from Hinder, Bush, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Three Days Grace, Vertical Horizon, Switchfoot … but also Linkin Park from the very beginning with Crawling that really made my heart skip a beat, and eventually the last straw I think was when Stinkfist came on air and I blacked out. Seriously? Tool? Now? With these words, the meaning behind the lyrics? Oh holy cow that was intense. Blast the music in the car and forget about the world. Done.

Realizing that the life I am living now is a hundred thousand years, far away from the life I was imagining in my early twenties was hard. I wanted something completely different back then, but not only that, I was doing something different, something I can’t even imagine doing now that I am wandering around this small part of the world, alone. I remembered the smell from those days, every single note of every single song was attached to one of my senses. I could see things from the past, I could still feel the touch, the taste, the sounds, everything, all around me. Just like “yesterday”. The colors and the lights, the way people moved their hands and talked to me. I felt.it.all.back.again. The pain I suffered, the joy I lived, and I recalled the exact moments when I was listening to those specific songs in different places in the North-Eastern regions of Italy, and I felt sick inside. I am not that person anymore. Just like the people I was sharing those moments of my life with are not the same people anymore. We changed and that’s fine. I just want to know why fate, destiny, Mt. Shasta, whatever, have decided to take it all back out here today. Here. Go figure! I still like the same music, duh. Music is forever, but I have to exorcise those sounds now, so that next time I hear them, they do not necessarily take me back to that bittersweet time of my life, or if they do, they don’t screw with my mind so much. And to find some peace of mind and rest, I got myself a motel room in Yreka, a few miles away from Mt. Shasta City, a small folkloric town where I could finally… sleep.

Santa Cruz, you got me

Uncategorized

June 11, 2019

The Mistery Spot, Santa Cruz and San Francisco

Warning, long post ahead.

How is it possible that I liked San Francisco but I loved Santa Cruz? If I had an answer for this dilemma I would not be here thinking about it. I woke up in San Jose, set the Google maps itinerary (is Google Maps working funny for you all as well lately? I mean, I can’t always think it’s my fault is something does not work properly right? Anyway…) and while chomping on cookies I got at Trader Joe’s (Yes, I found vegan cookies at Trader’s woot woot!) I hit the road to San Francisco.

Oh dear. The wonder I’ve seen. The marvels I am constantly seeing in this amazing journey!! Yes, of course I have my up and down moments, otherwise it wouldn’t be me, but overall, I give myself a pat on the shoulder “good job L, good job”. Another hot day in California, and keeping the car windows closed is the most obvious decision so you can blast the a/c but nope, I woke up relatively early and the sun is not up in the sky yet, so I’m going to heat this “body on the move” up and not only keep the front ones rolled down, but I will also sing and dance while driving. No worries, I am paying attention to what I am doing, eyes on the road, always. I am not sure if driving through Santa Cruz was eventually more of an instinctive decision, fate, or whatever, but when I clicked on “itinerary” and I chose “avoid highways” I knew I was doing something right. I passed through a couple Open Space Preserves, the golden of the hills was alternating with the green of the trees and the bright blue sky… but I forgot to fill up the tank.

Somewhere not even halfway through the route I saw the yellow light on, did not even notice when it actually turned on, and I automatically said “you’re stupid! You forgot to stop at the gas station. Every morning you must stop at the gas station!” out and loud, so that I could hear it from inside and outside of my head. I started praying the gods to get to the closest station as soon as possible. I found a Chevron (I usually stop at Arco’s for whatever reason!) and I immediately took the first exit and did my job. A little disappointed by my own disorganization (yeah?) I noticed I started beating myself up, and I forced myself to stop it because I did not want to attract any more negativity. Good girl. I checked the map at a certain point, while swerving through the turns in the middle of woods that were appearing out of nowhere: the only thing popping up as the map was not loading because of the loss of connection, was “The Mystery Spot”. Hmm. I slowed down and enjoyed the peace, the atmosphere of being Alice sliding down the Rabbit Hole, and no joke, seeking through radio stations, the radio automatically stopped at this classical music one playing a piece that was fitting the moment so well I almost got scared it meant some weird omen. You know what? Let’s check out this mystery stop. After all, I don’t have anywhere I HAVE to go, I am free to do whatever so, let’s play.

Oh dear lady, mother of all the gods, creator of the universe: where am I? This place is mind-blowing. Literally. Rules of nature do not apply, or better, those known to us. Either they created this space on purpose ( I know, I’m too skeptical but hey!), or it is true that it’s just something connected to the Earth, magnetism, aliens, whatever. I just know it gave a sense to this day and I am glad. Click on this and please, please, get to know more about it on their website, and plan to visit if you can. They call it a gravitational anomaly. I don’t care what it is. It could also be just a massive mere illusion I would still go there again, and again. I loved it. I loved feeling dizzy trying to figure things out. Having troubles moving, bend and still look like I am standing straight and still. I loved feeling drawn to this point even before I found it, and after, when trying all the little “experiments” the guide makes you do. But enough with the Mystery Spot. It would be too reductive for words so get informed. Google is a wonderful place for this.

With a smile on my face, a bumper sticker from the spot and classical music playing in the background, I’m off to Santa Cruz. Little parenthesis: tears of joy have only been shed so not often by these eyes, but sometimes, the bittersweet moments of being alive in a limited amount on time on Earth is frustrating, so pardon me for letting it go at the thought of our disgraceful mortality. Why? Because Santa Cruz got me. Time started flying back and forth, freezing every time I stopped to capture her colors on camera, waving back and forth like the Pacific Ocean every time I was remembering or picturing the future. Pleasant shattering of senses. As I saw the ocean from the distance, my heart opened and I could not wait to pass through the historic downtown (pretty as well) to go talk to him. Surfers and people like me, with their vans parked while enjoying the view were all around. Two men started talking to me, but depending on the time of the day, my mood, and if Saturn and Mercury are aligned or not, I could either take your approach smiling, or I’ll try to avoid you. The latter in this case. They said “Hi, beautiful day,…” yadda yadda, and I answered politely, probably not even looking at them, I just acknowledged their existence and felt their presence on my right side. I was too focused on seeing what I was seeing in front of me, and no, I wasn’t being rude. I’m an introvert and you can take it or leave it. I needed to speak to my ocean. Bye. I avoided eye contact on my way back to the car and left.

I changed radio station, windows completely opened and down Pacific Highway I went. Always looking left, trying to see as much as possible of this coast I so adore. I see myself through the mirror: playing with the warm wind slipping through my fingers, an image that takes me back to when I was a little girl, and sometimes, in the hot summer nights in Italy, my father would take us all for a “giretto” in the car to escape the heat and get some fresh air, driving up to the beach, smelling the salty breeze coming from the sea. I chuckle and I find another area where I feel like I need to stop. So I did, and I found an abandoned railway that was probably running along the coast, now forgotten, where a natural swamp formed around it on one side, with frogs, red and blue dragonflies and duckweeds. It’s on a cliff, so I keep walking through a field of tall wild flowers where the sparrows can sit and sing all around me. Unbelievable. At the edge I halt, cautiously, and I let the sound of the waves, hitting the rocks below me, scare me a little to remind me I could die if I fall. Bright blue sky over a bright blue ocean, divided only on my left side by the golden, white and ocher colors of the cliffs. Click. Click. More clicks. I sit on a bench (perfect spot for a bench, by the way!) and wait.

I leave with a sense of powerlessness. I am mad that I don’t own this land, but also Surfers Paradise in Australia, or the desert in Peru, or the green flatlands near Liverpool, or all the thousands places all over the world I wish were mine. All mine. Dang it. I stay angry for a second and then I think “you fool, this, all this, it’s all yours. Yours and of all the other silly humans walking on Earth.” It’s all for us guys, all for us, and I just wish more of us out here could reckon this and treat Mother Earth, with all her creatures, animals and humans included, with all the due respect. It’s for us. Be thankful. Ergo, with this feeling of gracefulness I kept driving North, along the Pacific waving at me (almost literally), in awe while going uuuup and doooowwn, leeeft and riiight along the curves… Pacific Highway, you have such a strong curvy body my love.

Wrooooo. Wraaawww. Bing. I don’t know how to represent in letters the sound of a ship horn alternating with weird beeps coming from afar, but I know it’s the typical sounds of the harbors, being from Venice I should know, but I am not an expert. This to say, I see you San Francisco!! You reminded me right away of a Lima, Peru, but in such a better shape. All those little houses lined up, spread out on hills surrounding the coast, well yes, a way way richer Lima. You too have your particular spots, so I look for a place where I can sit for a bit and recover from the drive, and all the amazing feelings wrecking my heart. Baker Beach is right next to the Golden Gate, so I think “why not?” quick break at the beach and then off to downtown. Public beach, full naked men here and there. Details. Freedom. I’m cool. The sand is literally burning, I can see a dog struggle while raising her paws one at a time, chasing a bird, leaving the shoreline while her human goes “Bailey, Bailey come back you bad girl!” – I laugh and root for the dog, but also hope she does not burn her sensitive pads.

Cute city San Fran. Cute. But it took me two hours to get out of downtown, so I won’t complain about LA traffic anymore, I swear. Jee, what a nightmare. People going literally crazy, cars hitting other cars, people shouting, “I saw you”, “you did this”, “uh uh, not my fault” and I was hungry and angry so, hangry, as they say. Thankfully this happened after I had a little fun going up and down the steep hills, praying the gods of the seven kingdoms to keep my breaks functioning, and then of course I had to see with my own eyes the famous Lombard Street. Cute. Really cute. Drove through it and took a video I posted on Instagram, and yes I just did it for the ‘gram because enjoying it in person would have been completely enough. Played some music, enjoyed the views, but I had enough. Being a road tripper in such a chaotic city is not fun, or not right now. I may go back for a quick vacation or so, but that was it. I looked for a place to spend the night at, and the following day I knew I wanted to go somewhere else, closer to nature, but I’ll see what the night will suggest.

Here we go again

Uncategorized

June 8, 2019

I swear I don’t do it on purpose, it just happens that every time I have to start writing a post, a song gets in my head and it becomes the soundtrack of my current brainstorming session so, exactly like this song plays: “Here we go again […] Oh, oh I want some more…” the music gets stuck in my head and click after click, I start typing. By the way, FYI it’s Neon Trees – Animal.

The expression “here we go again”, to be honest, popped into my head when I started pondering on the current situation, wondering what tomorrow will bring (literally) and where I am going to be two months from now –if I am going to be somewhere; as far as I am concerned, anything could happen! (There, another song ding ding: Anything could happen, Ellie Goulding –can someone stop my mind from attaching a song to every little word I can think of? Shjees! Thanks). One thing leads to another and I get to think of those people who are lucky enough to wake up in the morning without worrying about their bank account being constantly empty, about them being perennially broke, –and broken, if I may add; it’s a thought I can’t really get rid of while people keep asking me how I am going to finance this adventure, or adding to that even some little anxiety picturing for me all the possible scenarios I could be trapped in. Not a big fan of all this, and not a big fan of these people either, to tell you the truth, but what can I do? Indeed.

Yes, I know that usually normal individuals will at least leave town with some sort of back up plans if something goes wrong, I admire them but I am not like them. Why leaving, thinking of all the possible accidents that can happen, spending energies I need to actually figure things out while I’m up and running, why preparing for plan B or C, when I don’t even have a plan A? I swear, for many this is really too hard to understand, and I think I heard more often “I would never do that” lately than “I wish I were you”. Eh, whatever really. It is just that this feeling of doing the wrong thing or not being smart/ready/rich enough permeates, and it takes away that sense of freedom I so dearly cherish. Buzz off, bad mood!

I know many will disagree and probably even get mad as what I am about to say is not something easily shared, but let’s stop for a moment and just think about it: money? It does define you. I know, I know, it’s an unpopular statement, and I can hear you all booing, but wait a minute. I am not saying, “haha, money defines you and it is ok, ciao poveri” (lit. bye poor people); what I am saying is that, it shouldn’t, because it should not, but it does. So I was passing by all these cute houses with white fences and red doors (like Joey Potter from Dawson’s Creek used to picture her dream house would be –yes, I remember, and yes, I used to watch that show) and I saw (not for real, but I could totally see it) this cute family, a Maserati and a Mercedes Benz parked on the driveway (those I could see clearly though), house paid off, both working nice cute jobs, a dog, a cat, whatever really, and sbam, I got catapulted to an airport scene where there’s me, waiting in line, economy class as always, and then there’s this cute little family, standing behind the first class sign. Now fast-forward to the end of the journey and the two stories, of these two different “classes” work like this:

Shiny Happy People (1st class)

First to get on board, comfortable seats, nice meals, better treatment, first to get off, go through security happy and cool, call a -nice- cab, get home easy peasy, smile, tired from traveling but doing fine, calls friends for dinner, chat about the cool vacation, beautiful places, comfy hotels, excursions, fun times, yadda yadda, everyone is happy, your friends love you, positivity attracts positivity, law of attraction works properly and the whole cycle returns, nice and easy…

Normal People (economy)

Last to get on board (or so), awful seats, meh meals, regular treatment, last (or so) to get off, go through security in a bad mood for having had a shitty trip, call Uber (pool, because it’s cheaper) if you can afford it, otherwise wait for public transport, get home or somewhere you can call home, tired a.f., if friends come for dinner you are so tired you act bitchy and everything from your vacation just turns out to be terrible, your friends start saying you always complain, negativity attracts negativity…and here we go again.

I know I made it a little too extreme, but the point is that money makes you happy. If you don’t have to worry about it you’re positive, you stay positive and you just experience life on a different level than others. Because money has become the coin used not only to buy goods but to define your worth. Why do we keep on having different classes on transportation? Why do we keep on having different options based on how much we can pay for them? I mean, I don’t need to name them all, we all know. This is all because there will always be someone richer who can afford something -more, something -better, and then there are the others and it all plunges all the way down. Society has divided us between those who can and those who can’t, but also those who can …more. Therefore, you matter more, on a societal level because you can afford things that others can’t. As much as I am aware of the fact that this is NOT right, and it should not be, this is exactly how things are and it is all deeply, inexorably WRONG. Ergo, with this mood now, I am going to drop this argument (thank goodness, I know, it would just take forever otherwise), and I’ll just leave it here. I’ll have plenty of time to argue again while having my breaks on the road in case you wanted to object or tell me what you think.

Last but not least, hitting the road will give me the chance to focus on more interesting matters than money, houses, people and whatsoever so fear no more, I quit.