The detriment of travel is trying to figure out how to take home the experience with you. Instead of savoring the journey, you often waste time locating the finest wine, coffee, stamps, antiques, perhaps even some cheese—-despite the fact that you may have to learn how to say silly things like “air-tight seal,” or “put a cork in it,” in another language. Over the excruciating years of tearing myself away from a destination, I’ve found my favorite accoutrements to purchase are the ones that will stay with me forever: boots, shoes, a scarf, a jacket, a sweater.
Purchasing clothing goods may seem like an obvious choice for a traveling gal, so I’d like to state—-for the record—-that I do not own name brands, nor do I have a stash of Louis Vuitton and Prada handbags. My purpose for purchasing clothing goods has more to do with being a hopeless romantic and desperately yearning for a specific time and place. Simply smelling the fabric of a wool sweater from a foreign outdoor market recalls quite a few memories and brings about many questions other than the destination: who was I when I bought this? Was I happy Desiree or sad Desiree that day? What happened that year and was that the month that changed my life, or was I just having the time of my life?
Mostly, I find myself defining character moments in these clothes. It is October in Chicago and last night, just before going out, I found a brown sweater jacket with loosely-knit fabric. I threw it on and while warm in its somewhat itchy fur, I thought about December in Torino and the street I’d picked it up from, Via Roma. It was dark, cold and wet, just like last night in Chicago. Although a year later and an ocean over, one very important thing came to mind: last year I began struggling back and forth about a very difficult life decision I had to make. I remember, that despite my umbrella, walking through the cobble-stoned alleyways of Torino left my gray boots and tired feet soaking wet. Yet, while frustrated that I had to continue sloshing through the city for another couple hours before I could return to the hotel and change, I remember being even more frustrated about this decision I could not make.
Almost one year has passed and last month, I finally made that decision. It is difficult. I’m subjected to terrible advice from loving friends and family, like, change is the only constant. Think positively and positive things will happen. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, blah, blah, blah. Often, this advice is not fitting, and I sometimes respond to them with, “Boo” or “Poo.”
But it is fitting, that in another time, in another destination, the weather is the same, and the old Desiree meets the new Desiree, and all because a sweater coat still fits. I get to think about happier things: that trip was the trip I learned about Bicerin, an 18th-century espresso made with chocolate and milk. And it was one of the first times I thought about Gal about the Globe. I visited the Olympic Alps of Piemonte and learned that to make polenta perfectly, you have to stir it slowly for an hour; I learned that polenta and sausage is awesome while dining at Eataly, an amazing food emporium endorsed by Slow Food. I also learned never to buy disposable cameras from airports, and also, I learned that you can find imitation Ugg boots so that when they get soaking wet you don’t feel guilty about throwing away $100.
I still do not like flying. I still do not like flying.
