Some days, I look back when I’m lying in bed at where I was when I started the day vs ended it. This morning, I was in the mountains, at a small mountain hut solar charging my phone and eating biscuits with Nutella. Now, I’m lying in bed in a very fancy hostel in a city, killing a song that reminds me of fond memories of weeks ago while writing this post. The only similarity between where I started and ended is having a chat with an Italian man (two different ones though).

Today was the first day I embarked upon without a plan, and succeeded. It was the first day without a plan meaning I didn’t have a place to stay for the night, no reservations, no committed activities; just me and my teenager (backpack) wandering freely. The first Italian man, a worker at the Rifugio who was great company, suggested some hot springs that were down the mountain a few miles. I decided to take a walk down, and maybe camp for the night at a nearby campsite.

I descended the mountain on foot, down a mountain road that eventually turned into asphalt. I connected with a friend energetically as I walked. I sent some healing energy. My path paralleled a river, and several spots looked appealing for camping. I am somewhat afraid to disperse camp in a tent close to a road. It feels too accessible to people who may not be doing the same thing. Knowing I had this fear, I saw an opportunity to conquer it…I kept walking. The campsites in town looked unappealing and hot. I walked onward to the hot springs. It felt really uncomfortable there; I wanted to camp, but it felt like a place where 20 year olds would gather and drink late at night. I thought it was probably actually safe though, so I set up my tent, glad to take the second opportunity to conquer the fear I had avoided facing earlier.

There was a young man in the hot springs when I arrived who had left, then returned when I finished setting up my tent. I struck up a conversation.

“A little English. Italiano”

Well, my phone had been struggling to charge all day, so I tried speaking French. That didn’t work. We fumbled our way through a conversation for a few minutes consisting of French, English, Italian and German words, until a couple descended to the springs who spoke French and Italian. We all talked and the young man, upon realizing that I was planning on camping, insisted that I avoid that because at night, people would come to the hot springs and it wouldn’t be safe. He said he would drive me to Cuneo that evening, where he was from and where there were safer options.

I decided that since I had a ride to a town where I could catch a train to Turin, which was a goal of the day or the following day instead of walking, I would try to get to Turin that night. The man agreed to take me to the train. I booked a hostel in Turin. In the past, this would have felt like a mistake because of what followed, but this time it still felt like the right thing, which was new and felt good.

As we drove down the mountain further, tapping away on the keyboard in google translate, he suggested we go camp at a beautiful location he knew. I wanted to get to Turin. In the past I would have been so torn because the opportunity sounded so good and fun, but I stayed firm. I felt very comfortable around this man. He had good intentions and was shy. We continued our conversation in English/German/French/Italian/google translate as we drove. He pulled over suddenly at a large fort. It felt like a movie. Windows left down, he jumped out of the car and opened my door. At first, I felt a hesitation…my train is leaving soon…

“Lago man-made”

He had mentioned this lake to me earlier. I had to make a conscious decision to trust his sense of timing. Sure, my train was leaving soon, but he knows how far we are from the station and how much time we can spare, so why should I worry about it? I relaxed and let go of the wheel. He was in charge. Today was not about plans.

We jogged to the lake (probably because the train was leaving in an hour) and then saw an entrance into the fort. The fort was huge. He took my hand and led me through the archway. We were like children exploring the place. Running up the stairs, racing around corners, and maybe less like children when we stopped to catch our breath (a lot of stairs). Everything was easy. It felt so platonic. In the past I would have become nervous of my playfulness being misinterpreted for romantic interest, but everything felt clear, even though unspoken. He was just so excited to show me his “place”.

Back in the car, we continued down the mountain. We entered a small town and he pulled into an alley.

“Caffe?”

Ok, yes, why not. There was also gelato involved, I’ll admit. I felt very American when he told me that I should eat the gelato slowly, perhaps to savor it more. More playfulness. I felt like myself.

We continues to talk via google translate for the remainder of the trip. It was quite fun and I felt that I was learning a lot of Italian words. If I were to keep this up with him, I would be able to speak some form of functional Italian within two weeks. He took me to the station and walked me in, helped me get a ticket, and then waited with me until the train arrived. He was just being a gentleman, and it felt like he needed nothing from me. I think this was a reflection of where I was internally. Confident, calm and unassuming. I was drawing in people who were respectful and just interested in having some time together; able to appreciate the time for what it was and nothing more. It felt easy to keep my commitment to go to Turin, despite the nice time we had had. My intuition was telling me to continue on, so I did.

As I sat on the train, I realized how successful I had been. I had no plan, and I had ended up exactly where I needed to be without worrying about not having a plan. In the process, I met someone interesting, had a lot of fun, and learned some Italian. I felt open and more like myself also.

When I arrived in Turin, I easily found the tram and took it to the right stop. I hopped off and walked to the hostel without any stress. Just days before, public transportation was a major stress for me and now it felt like second nature. The mountains had been healing, as they usually are.