After three successfully completed marriages and a host of other unanticipated twists and turns that have determined my life path, I’m no longer bothered when plans take unexpected directions. Disappointment rapidly transforms into gratitude and appreciation as I realize that what the universe has in store for me is also pretty wonderful. This has been true of big things—like relationships—and smaller things, like travels.
A few years ago, I attended a work-related conference in Madison, WI, after which I’d planned to spend a week or so at home in Purgatory, Indiana before heading to Europe for the summer. While chatting with an LA friend a few weeks before the conference, she invited me to join her in San Miguel d’Allende for a week while she took a Spanish immersion course. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so I checked flights from Chicago to the nearest airport there, Guanajuato. I’d never heard of either place and had no idea where in Mexico they were located. But just my luck: there were direct, convenient, reasonably priced tickets. So, I went.
After returning home, I still didn’t have any idea where these places were, although a few months later, I finally consulted a map. I had a grand time exploring the charming cobbled streets and shady arcades of San Miguel while my friend was studying, and it even turned out that a New York friend knew a relocated New Yorker there, with whom I spent a lovely afternoon talking about all the people we knew in common and what life was like in that expat paradise. It’s unlikely I’d ever have traveled to San Miguel (never say never!), but I’m really happy I did. Rooftop dinners at sunset overlooking the magnificent cathedral, a visit to Diego Rivera’s birthplace/museum, a classical guitar concert, a market hall designed by Gustave Eiffel were all wonderful and unanticipated experiences a few months earlier.
This year, as I was ruminating about how to spend my three unscheduled May weeks (the first one will be the second week of a fiftieth reunion adventure in Tuscany with the friend I met during our junior year in Europe experience (Siena), where we formed an indissoluble bond. We even attended the same grad school at the same time, although not on purpose. So many parts of Europe are idyllic in May, but I thought this might be a good opportunity to spend a few weeks in Antibes, a top retirement contender, to see if I like it as much in non-pandemic times as I did during winter/spring 2020.
Before I had advanced with my planning, a former teaching assistant living in Milan announced that she’d marry her long-time partner on 15 May. The Tuscan adventure ends on 10 May, so it seemed obvious that I should then head north to witness the event. I decided to spend a few quiet days on a small lake north of Milan prior, and then, since I was already in Italy’s Lake District, it made sense—rather than heading to Antibes—to realize a decades-long dream to see Lake Como. Or Maggiore. Both were picturesque and either was fine (I don’t like to move around much, although many may find that hard to believe).
In the midst of researching which charming little town would be my home base and what I’d do once there, I chatted with LA friend. She desperately wanted to go somewhere the last two weeks in May and was having trouble finding takers. The options were: Denmark (ho hum), Scotland (the highlands don’t look a lot different from Lapland, already familiar territory), or Sicily, a place I’ve always wanted to visit. So, that’s now what’s happening. I wouldn’t have been disappointed had I never visited Sicily (I’m pretty sure I’d always choose Greece, given free choice), but now I’m super excited. Food! Greek ruins! Beaches! Mount Etna! What next, Universe? Bring life on!
