ITALY

Finally there!
My "Grand Tour" was about to start.
I got off the train at "Stazione di Venezia" and had to find other transport to Venezia herself.
From afar I could smell the ocean and hear people speak in Italian.
This was balsam to my nose and music to my ears.

As I walked towards "Piazza San Marco" a bridge had to be crossed.
It became my Rubicon.
The bridge was small, narrow, a bit worn out and absolutely beautiful.
Turning the next corner, there she was: "La Basilica di San Marco".

The square was bathed in the dim morning light, the architecture was solemn and perfect, the gondolas were moving up and down with the waves.
I broke down in tears; tears of happiness and relief; I sat on the piazza and cried for a very long time.

My heart was expanding, and expanding; I had arrived at my true home; I was finally born as me; for every minute the longing for art and beauty within me awakened; my whole being became light and calm.
It was a divine revelation; all of it was.

My "Renaissance Personality" was emerging and growing and blossoming...

I stayed in Venezia for a very long time and walked for hours every day; all was perfect and I felt perfectly happy.
I had come to live.
I was born.

Leaving to go to Firenze made me even happier; the landscape , which I saw through the windows of the train, whispered "Benvenuta".

If Venezia was architecture, water and air, Firenze became my colourful and artistic destiny; a place I would never want to leave.

My home was "Gallerie degli Uffizi"; I entered when they opened and left when they closed. Every day.
Every. Single. Day.

The art was breathtaking, the surroundings were perfection, the floors were beautiful; everything was bathed in the works of the masters.
And there I was; sitting quietly for hours, staring at everything; taking it all in.

This was me; this was, who I am; the final doors to my heart and being opened. My life was complete.
My heart was full.
There was nothing more to add.
Nothing more to subtract.

Walking around town, people spoke to me in Italian, maybe sensing I belonged there. And I answered them, in a language that just came out of my mouth; from where, I did not understand, but it did not matter.
I was home.
I was me.
And for the first time in my life, I was truly happy.
The houses, the churches, the markets, the landscape, the people; all whispered: "Benvenuta"...

The next destination was Roma and "Citta del Vaticano".
Both were impressive and beautiful, but I was looking for two things in particular: the work of "Michelangelo" and that of "Bertel Thorvaldsen".

Both those great artists had it in them to paint or carve matter into living personalities.
The skills they mastered, the hours they spent watching and studying, the time and dedication they offered to the world to make dead matter come alive, was even more humbling to be near than I thought it would be.

I felt the presence of those two great masters, it was almost as if you could reach out and talk to them; their work spoke to me, with no words, of the necessity of art and beauty to stay balanced and in tune with the true humanity within ourselves; almost a prerequisite for "Know Thyself".

Italy for me was, as well, the landscape, the smells, the sights, the soft wind, the colours, the water, the people; Italy was about finding bread, tomatoes, cucumbers at a local market, and searching for a spot to eat lunch.
Italy was a breakfast of newly picked, and sun warmed, grapes; Italy was a pasta salad with all the good, local produce.

Where Greece felt like walking with Socrates, Italy was a constant dialogue with "Lorenzo il Magnifico" and the other beneficiaries of Florentinian art, beauty and architecture, and a silent conversation with Michelangelo and Thorvaldsen on the theme of art, beauty and humanity.

Of all the places, an 18 year old girl could have chosen for her "Grand Tour", I was fortunate enough to have been allowed to experience Italy.
Italy shaped me into, who I am.
There is so much of Italy in me, and so much of me in Italy...

Per sempre grato...