Tutto a posto

“We must forget in order to remain present, forget in order not to die, forget in order to remain faithful.”

Marc Augé, Oblivion

I thought I was ready to write but I wasn’t. When I started this blog last year, it was an “oasis moment “in the middle of a desert of pain and chaos, when I was desperately trying to put my life together. We are never ready to sit and be sincere through words about our feelings. I was also worried about the style and the writing itself. I wasn’t aware none of that matters when you are rebuilding yourself and figuring out who you are after a tragedy; what is left of you; what parts of your heart are still beating or if your heart is completely damaged and there’s nothing else to do but to live with anger and bitterness.

I also thought my travelling days were over and that I had found the place I was going to settle. It wasn’t my choice, I was given that as the only choice. It was painful to walk those narrow streets every day and feel in danger all the time. For some time I found some peace in that little town in Mexico. After all, it was my country, my language and my food…. who doesn’t love tacos? but I realised I wasn’t so Mexican after living in China for 15 years. My habits changed, my taste in food., my tolerance to noise and people speaking endless nonsense just to be polite because that’s what you do in a small town. 

In those days people were staring at me and whispered on my side.-“it’s her sister”, “let’s see how long she lasts here” “San Pancho is not for everyone, it vomits you or traps you” And I was just too busy to pay attention or listen to advise from the locals. I was handling the business, lawyers, paperwork and people.

A year later, I’m in Italy, living in a small cottage in Tuscany, on the slopes of the jagged peaks of the Apuan Alps. It is amazing how after so many years of traveling we keep this knowledge that becomes part of our identity, traveling itself becomes almost a routine, a habit. It was relatively easy for me to jump on a plane and come here. I stopped in Frankfurt where I had a haircut and prepared for my isolated staycation in the mountains. I arrived in Florence, a city I had been before with my family in 1990. I was warned it was still cold but I guess I was too optimistic so I didn’t pack enough warm clothes. Instead, I brought my linen clothes from the beach.

It was nice to be at an airport again, I always remember Marc Augé ‘s ideas about “non-places” and how these are transitory places where humans pass through as anonymous individuals. After living in a small town for over a year, I needed a sense of anonymity. I always hated to be singled out and suddenly I became the centre of attention of a little town and you know what they say about little towns…

During the first weeks, I couldn’t unpack all my feelings. It wasn’t either my priority or goal, I am certainly on no holiday, but I realised with time, I travel with invisible baggage no matter where I go. This place is a hidden Shangri-la in the middle of the forest. Nature in a sophisticated shape; ferns, moss, rosemary, white sage, a natural pharmacy full of alchemy and magic. The landscape shifted from a humid and uncertain jungle to a protecting forest which allowed me to breathe and unwind, slowly “piano piano”.

The first words I learned in Italian from F was “Tutto a posto” a very assuring phrase to say everything is okay. Soon enough, I confirmed that like any other language, you don’t need to say much to communicate. I don’t speak much, I am not too fond of it, and I don’t know what else I could say that is not reflected on the wrinkles of my face. I managed to get around books again and start reading and a few days later writing came. I’m not bothered though, I have learned my truth is important to me, and I can take some time, be compassionate to myself.