Killing It In My Sixties

It’s been ten years, almost to the day, since my feet touched Tuscan soil. When I left in 2016, I thought I would be back in three months – but life took a different turn. You know what they say, “Go ahead make plans- and then God laughs”. I never thought it would take a decade of life; packed with hard lessons, more work, and profound loss to return to a place I loved so much. Being the Sagittarius that I am, I thought I had the world by the tail – that I could have a dream, make a plan and that whatever God had intended for me would simply fall into step with my adventures.

Life has a funny way of throwing in speed bumps and nail strips on your way to said wild notions. It’s sixty five years and counting – and I still think I’m driving the bus! Ha! I had four or five false starts over the past ten years trying to get back to my beloved Florence – years filled with false hope, surprising disappointments, and a very pervasive lesson in patience. I needed to continually remind myself that, at any given time, that I was right where I was meant to be.

When I retired this past Spring, I had two main goals: Learn to live a less stressful life and to TRAVEL. So the universe finally consented and yesterday I left California with ten additional years of life experience and a body that has changed significantly during that time. I wondered if I could still travel across multiple time zones, go 30 hours without sleep, run through airports to avoid missing my connecting flight – all while dealing with European-slow customs agents. I was literally the last person to board the plane before they towed away the gangway!

Arriving in Florence, seeing the beautiful Duomo standing majestically above the roofline as the jet came in for a landing – I smiled and thought, “I’m Back”. The airport was jam-packed with sweaty travelers waiting for delayed luggage- trying to stay focused on the endgame: a wonderful Italian holiday. I was able to get a taxi easily and we set off towards city centre – the final leg of the journey. Riding through the streets that had once been so familiar to me caused an unexpected feeling: PANIC.

I was suddenly filled with fear. Had I waited too long? Was I too old for this? Would I be able to navigate Italian city life with an extra ten years on me and my physical self? Would Florence still welcome me; older, grayer, a bit slower and less attractive? What had I done?! Left my comfy little home, abandoned my predictable retired-routine and surrendered my confidence for yet another adventure? I did – and I am not about to NOT – give it my all.

Once checked in to my apartment – home for the next thirty days – the charming Italian ways of life reminded me that I had done this before and I could do it again. The temptation to fall into bed and take a nap was strong. But if ‘ you know-you know’: don’t succumb! I showered the travel off, put on fresh clothes, and set off to walk the city.

I got my bearings relatively quick and headed towards my comfort zone – city centre. Walking through the piazzas, past favorite stores, and noting the different places I have resided on other trips, brought some reassurance. As I drew closer to my longtime favorite gelateria, I knew that Perche No would be my first taste of Italy. They still had my favorite obsession: Caffe Crunch; rich espresso gelato with tiny bits of crunchy coffee-toffee. Three euros later I was sitting on a bench devouring the cup of creamy goodness while watching the world walk by.

Alas though – the sugar crash! I powered through as long as I could but recognized that sleep deprivation and cobblestone-walking had taken its toll on my not-so-young-anymore body – and I went back to my apartment a little more confident about my ability to be a solo-traveler once again. Sleep? Well that’s for another blog…