No, I was on my own, in a way. I wasn’t alone, but this wasn’t going to be a social event, the kind that junkets have become, especially now that covid resurrections are being lifted.
A word about travel. The world experienced a great disruption in the last three years. It really isn’t quite over. Nonetheless, I’ve witnessed that folks are antsy about getting back to their lives, prior to Covid. No matter how much any of us want it, there is no turning back the clock. And, as well, one really cannot “make up the time” that one thinks was “lost.” Now, some folks are traveling with a vengeance, trying to get every last thing in before their ice cream truly melts.
I don’t feel that way. To feel that way, for me, would be a delusion. I am here, right now, just as I have always been. The last three years was an irreplaceable experience, no matter how hard any of us would like imagine otherwise. But there were lessons to be learned.
But to return to the default world of 2019, 2015, or 2000, would be, for me, folly. Not judging others. Just stating my point of view.
That said, travel now is different. So, in many ways, my last trip to Italy was inimitable.
The voyage was effortless, even easy. In this new world we find ourselves in, I was able to travel without much effort. Where I was going there would be no large group, no hype. Just Italy. The Italy I had grown to love, and miss.
The days were sunny and bright, with just a slight crispness to the air. The roads were not crowded, for where I was in Italy wasn’t where the tourists or the influencers flocked to. Would I write about it? I am right now. But the caveat was always not to brag about a place or a particular wine or wines. Or even to let on where exactly I was. It was part of the unspoken code that I was compelled to observe in order to make this last trip to Italy.
So why would I do it? Why did I do it? Why not? Other than this brief recounting, there would be no prideful displays, no gloating over being there and not somewhere else.
The wines? They were red, white, rosé, sparkling, sweet and dry.
The food? It was fresh, locally prepared, healthy and plentiful.
Everything was in balance. Everything was perfect. It was Italy, after all.
But no pictures, no Instagramming or Facebooking. No videos, no tweeting. And no selfies. Just Italy, the Italy that was bestowed upon me for this journey.
It was wonderful. It was personal. It was powerful. And it was authentic.
It was simply, my last trip to Italy.
