Finding Missing Pieces in Sora

After spending a couple of idylic, yet hedonistic days in Bologna, I decided to head to Sora, Italy to volunteer at a farm-stay. My little brother dropped me off at my train and I was, once again, tranporting myself alone.

My train from Bologna arrived in Rome and I stepped into language hell. I missed the second train of the day and therefore missed my connecting train. The tickets are only in Italian, the signs are only in Italian, and English is not spoken in a widespread manner. All of which combined sent me spinning in circles of confusion. I ended up spending 2 ½ hours in the Rome train center, waiting for the 3nd and last train of the day that would take me to the bus that would take me to Sora. Italians make for some fantastic people watching. Rampant displays of PDA certainly perpetuated stereotypes about Italian men being extremely amourous. I my opinion, it's a fantastic stereotype to have so I whole heartedly approve. I do feel slighly stupid for not knowing Italian, and I am almost apologetic when I tell people I don't understand and ask for English. I am in their country and I shouldn't expect them to speak English to me. I had to ask several people on the train if I was in fact on the right train, kind of a disconcerting feeling to know you may have made a train mistake, and that you might have to just go with it and end up where you end up.

I soon arrived at the final train station on my route and disembarked in Cassesca. It fit every preconception I had of a tiny village in Italy. Old men sat around a checkers table playing, apparently on some mid-afternoon siesta. They told me I was "bella" and did the fingers to the mouth kiss fling. It was absolutely charming. They asked me where I was from and I said America. "Obama!" was and has been the popular response when I tell people I am from the US. It's interesting how widespread the Obama name is around the world. From India to Qatar to Italy, I get the same excited "Obama" reaction from the local people.

I boarded the only bus to be seen in Casessca ,still not exactly sure it was the right one. Only one other person was on the hot, smokey bus with me. The driver twisted and turned the through the hills and some gorgeous landscape passed before my eyes. However, the he was chain smoking, the AC was not working and I began to get quite carsick. I feel like motion sickness is going to be a constant in my life now, yet another aspect of my life I won't be able to control. I started to get genuinely scared that I was on the wrong bus when we flew past the turn-off for Sora. It's extremely hard to convery how utterly frightening it is to be in a foreign country, to not know where you are and not be able to speak the language beyond 5 or 6 basic words. Luckily the driver seemed to understand my panicked words and gestures, saying Sora over and over again helped and he eventually turned around and dropped me at the correct bus station. I called the owner of the farm I am staying at and waited for my ride outside a pizza restraaunt, of course. After being plied with wine, pizza, and pastries by the owner of the pizzeria, my ride finally arrived.

Josephie, the patriarch of the family picked me up and we were off to the eco-farm I had agreed to volunteer at in exchange for room and board. I was supposed to be working at their rustic farm a 20 minute walk away from the main house, however, I would have been the only one there and I didn't want to camp by myself in the woods, with no running water or electricity, especially after my day of utter confusion and exhausting traversing of the Italian countryside. I am now staying in relative luxury at the main house with 2 other volunteers. We started our morning bright and early helping momma Maria prepare breakfast and the receiving our tasks for the day. I was given the chore of sweeping, dusting and organizing the outside meal area and after that was done, I weeded the artichoke beds. Our day of work finishes at 1 after lunch and we are free until dinner time to do what we please. It felt really good to be working again. Not the same kind of work I did before of course, but work nontheless. It's the kind that makes me weary, yet satisfied. I had forgotten how satisfying it is to do chores in which you can see actual results from the hours put in. There is much to be done here at the farm and I am excited for days to be spent wokring in the orchards, riding the horses, and learning to cook bread and pasta in the kitchen. Life is so much simplier here and I love it. I have to laugh sometimes, looking at my life now. I went from making 6 figures a year, to digging in the dirt in order to earn my room and board. That may seem from the outside, as a fall from grace. But, if it is a fall of any kind, then it is me falling into a better part of myself. It's Learning a simplier way of doing things and how to be happy with much less. I haved erased VIP parties, limosines, and celebrities from my life and replaced them with quiet nights reading under the stars, laughing with strangers from other countries and exploring wooded trails in search of hidden lakes. It is now solely who I am that matters, not what I am and who I know. In fact, I hadn't realized how much I missed that until I found that I have unknowingly sought out that very thing. I can walk through the days without speaking a word about my past life and people are more than happy to still lend me a hand and speak a friendly word. Perhaps in my world-wide quest for my better self, I will find a little piece of my personal puzzle buried in the Italian countryside and it will fit perfectly with all the other pieces of me that I am discovering as I go.



Peace, love, and joy from Italy

Lara