Day 44

Firenze, Italy

Yesterday I was having lunch at my favorite spot, and a group of four tourists asked the waitress how to get the the Piazzale Michelangelo. She didn't know which bus to recommend, but having been there three times over the past month, I did. I shared the what and the how of the bus system in Firenze, and as I have noticed is commonplace with travelers, we shared our respective cities of origin and destinations. They were two older couples so I felt comfortable (re: safe) telling them about the extent of my travels and that I was alone.

One of the women looked at me for a good thirty seconds. Sizing me up, absorbing what I had said, and measuring a response.

"You're a brave soul."

I shrugged and kind of laughed it off. But then I kept thinking about it. Last night, this morning. Right now.

I don't feel brave. I am challenged at least once a day, if not infinitely more. But what I realized was that it hadn't even occurred to me to be afraid. Or brave, for that matter.

When I decided to take this trip, everything built it's own momentum, and while transitioning into a place where I could actually do this was strange and a little freaky, it was never difficult and being brave was never a question. And as I have mentioned before, I feel everyday as if I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. That is an extremely heady feeling considering that in the past, it has only been a fleeting feeling...never constant the way it is now. And because it felt like the right thing to do from the very beginning, there was no need to be brave.

But what gave me pause was that all of the sudden, I thought "Oh shit. Am I missing something?" And then the more I considered it, I realized that bravery and all of it's emotional relatives are inherent in me. The whole wallet debaucle** showed me that.

I realized that by doing this alone, I have chosen a somewhat unique path. Sure, there are countless other independent travelers out there, but all the same, it is pretty nuts that I am halfway around the world from my familiars.

Then again, it isn't. I love being by myself. Despite having attacks of missing my nearest and dearest, I am not homesick or distracted by being on my own. I get to do everything my heart desires, and the solitude has allowed me to access parts of myself that I had completely neglected. There's something absolutely wonderful about that, and it lifts me up and over the tough stuff that may otherwise get me down.

**My wallet was stolen last week. I'm not sure how it happened. I noticed two hours after I was out that it was missing from my bag. The thing that really freaked me out is that I had been uber-conscious of where it was at all times, reaching into my bag every hour or so to at least wrap my hand around it. But it disappeared. So I called my credit card companies on a lark, still thinking that I had misplaced it, and it turned out that there were fraudulent charges which good ol' AmEx denied.

I had stashed extra cash, another credit card, my drivers license, and a copy of my passport, so I knew immediately that I was going to be okay and sucked it up.

The following day, I was up and out at the crack of dawn, which here in Firenze is about 8am. I decided immediately to slap a smile on my face and not flip out, that I could figure out what to do by asking questions and being dilligent and positive. I went to the Tourist Office and received information on exactly what to do, and then the process of replacing my passport just unfolded neatly before me. It was amazing and kind of wonderful.

I went to the police station to make a report, and spoke to a female detective. Too Jason's dismay, she decidedly did not look like Monica Belluci. Um, no. But she was lovely in her own right, and as soon as she saw that I was from California, she told me that she had visited San Francisco once, and then went into complete rapture about the beauty of the city. Yay for the Yay! Can't wait to live there, but more on that later.

We talked for a little while, and as she left her desk I looked around and just took in my surroundings. There were two tired, disgruntled Italian detectives sitting adjacent to me and they were shouting at one another about something I couldn't understand. Despite myself, I grinned hugely and realized that I was sitting in the midst of a slice of life that I would have never seen had this not happened.

Then my walk to the American Consulate took me along the Arno for a good stretch, and it was such a beautiful day. Windy, cool, and clear. It was kind of difficult to be upset about anything. Once I arrived, the first room that I entered was extremely crowded...think the DMV on it's worst day and then add 100 more people and about 50 degrees. I stood for a while, any dismay completely at bay. After about 5 minutes I noticed a sign that said "American Citizen Services This Way." I walked through the doors and there was no one there but me. I filled out an enormous amount of paperwork, took some photos, and in an hour I had a replacement for my passport.

It was so easy, and I can't help but think that my attitude about the whole thing helped it to be so.