Suffering is Better In Siena

Everything did not go to plan on my first solo trip across the ocean

Two weeks ago I wrote in my newsletter about anticipating my impending trip to a Tuscan farm in Italy. I said, “Maybe I’ll be sleeping deeply. Maybe I’ll be ripe with vitamin D and new ideas and too much time in which to write them.”

As it turns out, instead of sleeping deeply, I was sleeping very cold; shivering in a spider-ridden camper, listening to the wind outside, wondering what was “too much wind” because the owner of the property had instructed me to flea to the main house if the storm picked up, as it was not safe to sleep beneath the large tree there. Comforting.

My first night I slept maybe four hours, the second even less, as I woke at 2 am with my eye oozing goo and almost entirely crusted shut, so swollen it looked half the size of the other. The cold I had when I arrived had quickly turned into something else – no doubt irritated by the weather and the barn germs and the lack of a warm shower and sound sleep. The next day, my head felt like it was going to explode with pressure and the world sounded completely underwater thanks to my blocked ears. The pain in my face was excruciating. I retreated to an Airbnb in Siena, where I could get antibiotics and rest and take many long, hot showers.

my bedside looks bad but at least these are the views from my window

And as for the “vitamin D” I’d eagerly anticipated, it’s been pretty much nonexistent, as Italy has had its rainiest week in many long months. According to my aunt who lives in Rome, I “got the worst week ever”. I am tempted to agree, but trying to remember that there are worse things than being in a lovely apartment in one of the most beautiful places in the world, with no real plan and no obligations and only my own will to follow.

I’m starting to feel better – slowly – and am beginning to consider what comes next. This first week has been an exercise in disappointment, patience, self-advocacy, rest, and the ability to adapt to unforeseen circumstances. I’ve learned unexpected words, like prescrizione and infezione, I’ve eaten delicious tortellini in brodo to sooth my throat, I’ve wandered when possible and slept when needed, waking to the ever-changing skyscape outside the large window next to my bed.

Being alone is hard. Being alone while sick and anxious is even harder. But it’s forced me to practice self-soothing, to recognize my own ability to reframe and recover, even when things seem inconsolably bleak.

If nothing else, my initial desire to be full of “new ideas and too much time in which to write them” has proved most true of all my hopes. I have had an excess of time, and have been happily surprised by the frequent urge to fill that time with writing. Novelty stirs the creative mind. And so, this week’s newsletter takes on a slightly different format. An unexpected week deserves an unexpected report, after all. Here’s to new formats and new cities and the world’s unceasing reminders of its ability to overturn even the most well-intentioned plan.