Saturday, July 15, 2006
Ah, today my faith is restored, and, thankfully, my keyboard. I guess it was just tired last night. Or maybe I drank more Jack than I thought??!!
I woke up this morning, quickly checked my head which thankfully wasn’t pounding, and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw from my couch/futon/fold out mattress that took up almost every last square inch of this study/dining/living room, was my host Rino’s computer system. Two computers amidst piles and piles of papers, photos, and CDs. It dawned on me that everything precious in his life (in a material sense) was probably sitting somewhere in the disarray of the desk and table that took up half the room. All his photos, stories, work as a photo journalist - there at the foot of my bed, and this man had never even met me.
He works until 2am so he emailed me a map with directions how to get from the train station to his home and left the keys for me at the bar downstairs from his apartment. As I stared at his private world before me in the morning sunlight, I was flooded with a profound sense of love for man and appreciation for our ability to trust and be trusted, to give and receive and help one another. That is what makes couchsurfing a great concept. It is not just the free place to sleep (though what a wonderful fringe benefit), it is the opportunity to experience the kindness of strangers and in so experiencing carry on the view of people as good and kind. Every person who believes this helps to create a world where it is true.
The idea that what exists is a manifestation of what is believed has been a modicum of “positive thinking” for years– if you think you can, you can; of Asian philosophy for millennia– what you believe, you create. It is part of the Toltec tradition – what you fear, you move toward, and even western psychology in the idea of self-fulfilling prophecies. Did you know the concept is now grounded in physical science? The Quantum physicists have ‘discovered’ that there are no actualities, that all is probability and that probability becomes defined by observation. In very simple terms, once an object is viewed it is determined; before it is only a possibility. This doesn’t make the idea of getting on an elevator very appealing, but it certainly makes for some interesting questions. Are, for example, Americans so scared because we have high murder and kidnapping rates or are murder and kidnapping rates higher because we go around every day scared that we might be attacked or are children kidnapped? Do we create these realities with our expectations?
The answer is clearly yes on some very practical levels – if no one leaves home at night because they are scared of being mugged, they leave the streets empty for the muggers to take over and attack any unfortunate lone stray soul. If everyone was out taking a walk, the muggers would have less ability to mug. If I believe all Spaniards are rude and I walk into a bar expecting rude service I may subconsciously send out defensive energy that brings out rudeness. But I believe the idea that we create reality with our expectations is true at a fundamentally deeper level, perhaps even as Quantum physicists would say at a sub-cellular level.
This is why I love couchsurfing, love the idea of bringing it to the population at large. Think how the world would change if everyone believed, through experience, that the people of this world could be trusted and could give trust; that people were not out to get you but to help you. If we stopped feeling like we had to defend, maybe we could start feeling like it was safe to give. Tell me that wouldn’t change the world. These were the paths my thoughts traced as I road the train from my beloved Italy into new frontiers - this time Switzerland. Other than one long, lonely night in the Zurich airport, I have never stepped foot in the land I see in my mind’s eye of vast mountains and a little girl with blonde braids running down flower-covered slopes with delighted cries of “Grandfather! Grandfather!” (Boy how I loved that book as a little girl,)
My time in Milan was short but delightful. At last I got to visit with my old friend Laura. For ten years I used to work the Lipton Tennis Tournament every year – taking in the film from the photographers. Seeing the same people for two weeks every year, I developed real friendships with several. It was the Lipton’s in a way that started my love for Italy for it was there I met Claudio who took me to Italy eight years ago and changed my life. June, who I have written about, is also a friend from the Lipton days. Laura, who lives in Milan, and I have stayed in touch for years through letters and emails, though I hadn’t actually seen her in many years.
We had no trouble spotting each other walking from opposite directions down the street – we both have the exact same haircuts as we did 15 years ago when we met. It is funny how time can bond people. Even though we have never seen each other’s homes, met each other’s loved ones, not even had a dinner or lunch together, I still consider her a dear friend. It was wonderful lingering in her company as we walked through the piazzas, past the Sforzesco Palace, and, of course, toured the Duomo. She patiently waited almost twenty minutes while I lit candles and said prayers for my friends who are tending ailing parents, longing for babies, searching for love, or just generally struggling with computers or problems, trying to catch up and keep up with life.
The Duomo, by the way, is breathtaking. I never cease to be amazed by these cathedrals – each awe inspiring in its own way. The Milan Duomo is made of Carrera marble - the marble Michelangelo insisted on using despite how difficult, and dangerous, it was to quarry and transport. Gentle pastels of pink and white and beige give the Duomo a fairy-princess like feeling. It is imposingly gothic yet it doesn’t penetrate you ominously the way the Cathedral in Cologne does with its dark, dreary, grey imposing mass. These playfully light spires, and there are hundreds, seem to reach up into the heavens, searching with the playfulness of a child hunting Easter eggs for God’s love and light They work hard to keep the light pastel colors. The pollution accumulates so fast, it is a constant process to keep it clean. They proceed continuously, cleaning one section and then the next. When they have returned to the beginning, it is dirty again. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of individually carved statues sitting atop little platforms extending from the cathedral walls. What a great photo exposition to photograph all their glorious forms and faces. The inside is simple yet grand. There is little to interrupt the immense size of the place - something I actually found quite appealing. It created a sense, for me, of bonding with God rather than being awed by ‘His’ power and wealth. Enormous paintings hung between the columns that line the interior apse, creating the idea of a wall along the pews while not actually dividing the space - thus keeping the openness of the room while creating some subdivision. It was something I have never seen in a cathedral before. Everywhere I was struck by how successfully the illusion of simplicity was maintained yet with art and design of great intricacy.
After the Duomo, we took a lovely stroll, stopping for a gelato. Italians never get just one flavor – it is always three or at least two. I chose pear, since I had never heard or imagined pear ice-cream, and strawberry. Oh my god was it good, especially in the scorching heat of high noon in Milan! When we finished our walking tour, we headed to the bar I was at last night, this time for a coke without Jack, where Laura gave me the “inside scoop” on Switzerland, one of her favorite countries. We parted with hugs and promises to see each other in less than eight years this time and I headed upstairs to finally meet Rino, my host.
I walked in to the smell of tomatoes and shrimp in the air. He had made lunch for me! He kissed me on both cheeks like a life long friend, explaining he had cooked lunch and it would be ready in just a moment. We settled in at the tiny little two person table in a precious little kitchen about one/fourth the size of an American kitchen. I actually love these teeny little Italian kitchens with the half-sized refrigerators and the dish drying racks above the sink. His apartment is a sottotetto – under the roof or attic apartment – so sunlight was streaming into the kitchen from the skylight above. We slipped easily into conversation, going back and forth between English and Italian, discussing everything from the couchsurfing philosophy to languages to photography to gun control. With a degree in law, a passion for photo journalism, and an important position with Corriere della Sera, Italy’s largest newspaper, he is obviously a skilled conversationalist and quick observer. We talked for two and a half hours over pasta and cantaloupe (why is there a ‘u’ in cantaloupe?) and white wine until it was time to catch the bus back to the train station. I look forward to the next chance we have to chat.
Between my last night in Ascoli when I was fortunate to have both Giorgio’s and Antonella’s company amidst the crowds of people who had turned out for a piazza world music concert under the stars, to meeting Rino and his wondrous hospitality, to seeing Laura again, at last, it has been a wonderful two days of conversation and friendship. And now I must go – Lake Geneva just came into view and it is breathtaking.!
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