More Than Words
I’ve traveled around, through deserts on my horse,
but jokes aside I want to come back home.
Traveling alone could be the perfect moment to enjoy the silence. After all, there’s not much else you may do during ten long hours of bus between the greenery landscapes towards Airlie Beach. Of course it wasn’t the first time I dealt with it: through hours and hours of flights, trains and walkings, most of the time it’s just you and the panorama speaking a mute language of glances and breaths. Ironically it’s never a proper vacuum or some sort of meditation state: it’s way more a silence made of thoughts, ideas, images from the past that looks like an old film full of scratches, where you find yourself analyzing every aspect of your existence and, if you’re lucky enough, finally get some enlightenment which has been idle for a long time inside of you.
But silence may also reveal a new semiotic of language: a perspective shift that shed light on the deepest meaning of words and makes you discover new layers of sense between them. You reevaluate the importance of what people say, allowing their speeches to permeate you, but you also get a new consciousness which leads you in choosing the right words when you held a conversation. That’s why, when you pass so much time on your own, you appreciate even more every single talk you have with complete strangers and make treasure of it.
Like the day I went out on a tour to the breathtaking Whitsunday Islands and snorkeling for the first time on the Great Barrier Reef: while waiting for the boat I noticed this guy all alone walking back and forth, clearly looking for some talks, and after a quick smile we ended up keeping each other company for the whole day. Yannick were coming from France, traveling by almost two years from Indochina to Australia, where he rented a car and started moving around the country camping here and there. If my experience would have sounded crazy to someone, I can’t even imagine what their reaction would be hearing his story: he saved some money working as a mechanic, left his job, sold his motorbike and started his trip. He told me he wanted to travel as much as he can, before to settle down and build a family, so that one day he will have lots of stories to tell to his children.
I met a lot of young people like him in Australia, boys and girls coming from all around the world who applied for a Working Holiday visa, and somehow I felt sorry that nobody ever told me about this possibility while I was still in age to apply. Now that I know, I would suggest to embark on such an experience like this to anyone who might be interested, not only for the beautiful scenery you will see but, most of all, for the educational value of spending an year in this way.
My trip continued towards Brisbane, a nice place plenty of museums and fine restaurants. Being the third city in Australia, it tends to follow the footsteps of its bigger counterparts Sydney and Melbourne, though not having the same appeal or lifestyle. Here, for the first time, I felt some kind of nostalgia: not about Milan, my hometown or any other place in particular, but rather about all the trusted folks I can rely on such as my family and friends. True is that nowadays, through all the technological tools, we are interconnected with people we love all around the world and it’s actually difficult to feel alone, but sometimes words seems useless, like they are not enough. Sometimes you just need an embrace or some human warmth to fill up the silence.
Before heading to Gold Coast — my last stop in the Australian continent, which actually didn’t interest me that much with its Waikiki lookalike made of skyscrapers facing the ocean — I went down to Byron Bay, a place which I was very curious about since everybody seemed in awe with it. The landscape there, with the lighthouse on the top of the easterly point of the Australian mainland and the wonderful beaches, is definitely worth to be seen, but what attracts people the most about Byron Bay it’s the aura, the chilled vibe all around and the near town of Nimbin, the dreamland for every Cannabis lover. To be honest, I’m not really convinced by the hippie lifestyle nowadays: smoking a joint, walking with bare feet on the streets or dressing some pareo with a psychedelic pattern doesn’t make you hippie. Even more if you hold one of the last models of smartphones between your hands.
In Byron Bay I had the chance to meet Lucas and Pedro, two of the loveliest Brazilian guys I ever known. Lucas is a tattoo artist who moves around the country with a van and quite instinctively I asked him to schedule a little tattoo to do before leaving: a compass on my feet, not only to remember this experience for my whole life and what it meant to me, but also a reminder of where I come from, wherever I’m heading to. The other guy, Pedro, lives in Byron Bay by more than one year working as an head chef. I had such nice and sincere talks with him, about my story and all the chaos that I was going through. He left me with a simple but effective advice: don’t overthink, just let the things flow. It felt strange to hear such a simple rule that sometimes we forget. Who knows if it’s because we shared the same name, in Pedro I found some genuine caring, somehow like it was me on the mirror telling to myself what I really needed to hear.
Meeting them was also one of the weirdest situations I went through: I realized after a while that they were a couple which broke up recently and not speaking to each other anymore. I heard both sides of the same story, understanding that relationships may reach an inevitable end though you cannot ever forget all the good that have been with your partner. Being in the middle of their struggle made me think about my last relationship and the beautiful things that, after all, lasted after four years we didn’t talk to each other. It was one of the few situations left unsolved in my life, one of the last useless knots to untie. I felt it was the time to bury the axe of pride and finally see that my scar was, in the end, completely healed. It was time for forgiveness, whatever it meant, for both of us, and set myself free to keep walking forward. I took my phone and texted my ex-boyfriend, asking him if he would have had the pleasure to meet me once back in Italy. Yes, sure, I’d like to.
I realized what a powerful tool words are. They can reopen a bridge of hope which has been closed for so long. They can be a kind advice to open your eyes and guide you through the fog of life. They can help getting you out of bad times or make you understand that all the good you left in other people was not in vain. Sometimes they may also be a weapon to destroy you or rather a fancy fairytale to make you escape from reality. Whispered with a smile, they can also be the biggest form of love.
Suggested Sountrack
Emilíana Torrini, Sunny Road
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