I purchased tickets for my first trip to Europe
Are you present, Keegan? I remember asking him. What does that even mean?
Despite my best efforts I couldn't fathom what the state of Being Present might be like, and how does one achieve it? I would learn for myself while sleepily looking around a sun-soaked bunk room forty-five minutes outside Rome, but I'll get to that.
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After about a year, Keegan left Boulder. He went back home to Vermont, then on a pilgrimage to New Zealand, to WWOOF on a vineyard and visit a beach that a dear departed friend of his was unable to return to before his premature demise. On the way, Keegan would delight in the small wonders of sweating buckets and being tossed around at his first Bloody Beetroots show; going out in strange city on Halloween with his face painted fastidiously into that of a dragon; and, at long last, in sitting, knees bent up and arms hugging his shins, through the quiet rapture of his old friends beach as the sea sprayed his face and the endless quiet drained his mind of thoughts and questions.
My first pilgrimage would be to Nazzano, a tiny town tucked between the Roman hills. I would WWOOF for three weeks on a small farm/bed and breakfast called Tevere Farfa, for the marshy nature reserve next to which it was nestled. The point of this exercise was to pay my own way and travel by myself in Europe, to put my self-described independence to the test, and to finally validate the bored sixteen year-old girl who had ached with wanderlust, promising herself she would make a grand escape from Niwot, Colorado.
All of that was accomplished pretty quickly: in the elation of purchasing my own ticket for my own trip to Europe, and in the self-inflicted mishap that lead to my first hitch-hiking experience from a dilapidated train station in the middle-of-nowhere-Italy to Poggio Mirteto (close to, but not quite Nazzano). After I finally arrived at Tevere Farfa, suffered through the customary, invasive double-face kiss, took the courtesy nap allowed to me the day I arrived before starting work, I had about three weeks to kill on this little farm.
Poggio Mirteto, a small, sweet rural town about an hour from Rome, the night I unwitting arrived more than four hours late, had to hitchhike into town, and magically found a hostel (I don't speak any Italian) that let me pay them next day.
I would wake up early every day in my little bunk room and go out back to pick tomatoes, basil, or frigadelli with my fellow WWOOFers, looking forward, from the moment I woke up, the huge lunch Maria Pia prepared for the Tevere Farfa crew each day. A simple salad of tomatoes, olive oil, and salt inspired awe. Maybe it was just all of the hype Italian food gets playing tricks on me, or maybe I really could taste the same sun in the rich, red tomatoes I ate that had hugged my shoulders as I plucked them for their vines earlier that day. Either way, it was my reason for getting out of bed in the morning.
The team - two other WWOOFers from the UK, Maria Pias two daughters, and occasionally the farms owner - would hastily wash the dishes so as to sooner enjoy our post-lunch espresso, and hand-rolled cigarette for those who smoked. Wed then bumble through whatever remained of the days work and nap through the dizzying heat until dinner time, even more of a mouth-watering production than lunch.
In the evenings we would chat, play cards, enjoy each others company as we sipped wine that loosened up the laughter inside us and soothed us to sleep when we we're too tired to go on playing, teasing, chuckling.
Two weeks into this routine I realized it had totally consumed my sense of self and time: My only concerns we're immediate. The vast majority of my energy was devoted to being charmed by the scenery, savoring the beautiful food, reveling in the ease of being in the sun and passing time with my new friends. I had not thought about home for more than ten seconds at a time. The constant chatter of anticipation for my semester in Jordan had all but disappeared. It was as if I had abandoned the part of my brain responsible for worrying, foresight, and day dreams. I had been in a state of relaxation, appreciation, and steady, patient joy.
I realized all of this one afternoon as I sat up from my daily nap. I looked around my bunk room. This is what it was.
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Posted in Traveling Post Date 03/28/2022