Literary and real travels

We’re all globetrotters by now. And, dare I say, maybe we’re travelling a bit too much – spurred on by wanting everything now, fed on hyper-speed, both a curse and a blessing. I’ve got more free time on my hands, so I’d like to travel more. Yet, paradoxically, I find myself short on time. After all, time is the only thing we truly own in life.

Paradoxes which live in my mind as they do in yours, dear readers. I’d have liked to have travelled more, when I had more hair and was more reckless. Barcelona sunsets, motorbike trips with my father, my dreams of the past – where are you? Luckily enough, books have provided me with plenty of travelling opportunities, enjoyed from the warmth of a beautiful stüa.

There are some places that inhabit my memories which are more precious than jewels. Surreal moments which revealed their secrets with time. The mysterious silence of the Sacred Well of Santa Cristina in Sardinia, where history and religious rites intertwine forevermore. The hopes of the women of antiquity. The cold, circular, granite stones where men signed peace treaties and declared wars. And then Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Suffocating spirituality inhabits the city – every street, every pavement leads to a fragment of eternity.

How many people trod these roads which I have trod too, silence and chaos swirling around me. An armed soldier next to a young bread seller, a picture I treasure, symbol of the terrible contradiction which exists in the Holy Land. And the cell in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which turned me into a quiet and meditative observer of the mystery of the Resurrection. I can picture myself roaming the world and, one day, I hope to experience the emotional sight of the Hiroshoma tree, a weeping willow which, against all odds, came back to life after that tragedy. Hibakujumoku is the name of trees that survived the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – a sign of resilience, fresh treetops which remind us how life can be found even among the hottest and darkest ashes.

Among the many dreamscapes I’ve travelled to, some inspired by the pages of Serena and Fabio’s travel diary, I was impressed by the Costa Family Foundation’s Green Farm project in Kampala, Uganda. There I saw the future taking shape among the hands of people working the land with love and commitment. In a region which is full of rage, freedom – nothing more than an abstract concept – turns into reality, grows and becomes stronger with every new leaf, every new harvest. Thriving nature – this is what makes me soar. To the Pando Tree, the largest living organism on Gaia, Mother Earth, residing in Utah: a forest of aspens which share the same network of roots.

A perfect metaphor for the unity and strength resulting from their connection. And then there’s us, men and women, with all the communication tools we have, at a disconnect. Nature teaches us how we can prosper together for millennia. If we close ourselves off and remain divided, we’ll be defeated – nobody is their own salvation. I have other dreams, too. Saint Peterburg’s creamy white sky and the palaces home to opulence from days long gone by – a destination that I’m waiting for patiently. Russia is more than the present Zar, the silver-tongued Medved and hypersonic missiles. A gigantic swathe of land, home to a culture we’re so close to forgetting.

I’d like to walk along the canals, experiencing the cold which reminds me of how beauty can be sharp yet comforting at the same time. But the trips I dream of, I’ve dreamt of, and remember aren’t only the ones I’ve taken in real life. Reading is, maybe, the most intimate form of freedom. Every page is a free ticket towards distant places, towards thoughts and ideas which I’d not have otherwise encountered. A way to make up for lost time, to live a thousand lives in one – and all that can be achieved by sitting in a warm and cosy stüa.

Be it a holy well, a tree which survives destruction, or a hidden bookshop on the corner of a road, travelling is the most genuine way of recalling that freedom is everywhere, we have to know how to look for it and defend it. After all, when thinking about it, every trip is an opportunity of finding oneself. There are places like home which cannot be found on any map. Ulysses taught us that humanity was destined to test themselves so that they could learn how to see, know and discover the world. And you yearn to return home when you’re tired. Where our hearts find shelter and where every trip starts and ends.

.m