Navigating Italy

"We don't need GPS," said my husband with confidence, just as we were about to get into our little, gray FIAT rental from Rome and drive up through Tuscany, to Cinque Terre and on to Genoa. Why indeed would we need one? We had a map taken out of a guide book with the major cities and about five autostradas. We even had some iffy Mapquest directions I had hastily printed out before leaving the hotel. The rest was up to the signs to show us the way.

Except there were signs that said Viterbo 32 km Turn Right, Viterbo 40 km Turn Left and...yes, another Viterbo Go Gtraight. Which Viterbo?! In panic, I look down at the map, the permanent text of what appears to be order. The map was, in truth, a text of Joycean proportions, replete with elliptical constructions and dizzying contextual shifts. As if this text weren’t complex enough, it made no allowances for the infinite mutability of the unknown. But then, how could it? How could a map adequately reflect the up-to-date conditions of every road?

This road to Viterbo was closed for repairs.

So, we pulled off the highway at the next exit and wound our way into a village. And relied on other sources to find our way: the shirtless man whose driveway we found ourselves on; a line of people arguing over the best way while waiting at the post office; the old man who stepped out of the line to explain, point and gesture.

We left the village. So, which way to Viterbo? We looked at each other, and laughed. It no longer mattered.

I leaned closer to my husband as we make our way through our life, grateful for the kindness of strangers, relying on each other, forgiving of our countless navigational errors and making of our successes and our failures not merely a book or a history, but a life.

Somewhere in Italy

#Italy #travel #memorablemoments