Embarkment

                    Most stories start at the beginning. It’s just how it’s done. It wouldn't make any sense in this instance to start at the end and work my way forward. So that’s what this is, not the beginning of my life story, but the beginning of my story in Italy and maybe my travels after that. This blog will serve to help answer some questions, keep friends and family in the know, and ask for some much needed prayers. It is 54 days and counting until I hop on a plane out of Denver for an adventure I feel like I've been waiting my life for. I am in the same instant completely terrified and more excited than ever.

                      I have talked to many people about this journey. Family, friends, and strangers along the way and they all seem to have the same questions, showing just how connected we really are. I’ll try and address those here as best I can. The first question I always get is “Why Italy? What is calling you there?” The only way I can answer this is that Italy ITSELF is calling me. Yes, it is, and has been for a while now. Italy had never insisted itself upon my mind until a little over a year ago when everything was screaming of it. It was in everything I saw on tv or in movies, in every book or online article I read, and randomly on the radio and in music. I just had to say ‘Yes’. Sometimes in life you just have to say yes.
                       They nod politely and then prod a little deeper, trying to gauge what I’m really planning on doing. “Are you going to Rome for the Coliseum or the Vatican? Are you going to Tuscany for the food or Florence for the Art? Are you going to Venice to see the canals?” The answer to this is both yes and no. Yes, I plan on experiencing those things but no, I am not going FOR them. I am going to travel for the purpose of traveling. I am going to see little old women gossiping with their friends, Italian teenagers making out on park benches, to watch Italian women strut down the street wearing Prada and Gucci, to of course drink tons of wine and eat lots of gelato, to get a real sense of their authentic culture and to get a sense of who I am while I do all of this.

                         The third and seemingly most important question they ask is “Who are you going with?” to which I respond, by myself, solo, alone. They get a concerned smile and start asking a whole number of things including if I know the crime rate, if I am aware of how men treat women there, and if I have an itinerary planned out. Most people don’t understand exactly how I am going about this adventure. I am going alone, I am quitting my job, leaving my house and diving head first into this country. If they choose to keep me I will stay. I have absolute faith that God has my life in His hands. He already knows how it will all turn out and every step I am taking. This terrifies people who don’t have the same confidences. I want to be as free as possible, I want to be able to say ‘Okay I don’t love this city, I’m going move onto another’ at a second’s notice. I want to meet a group of hippies and take off to a festival across the country. I want to sit and chat with God in a church that has stood for centuries for hours upon hours without trying to keep a schedule. I am confident I will do these things.

                           I hope these answered some questions and lingering thoughts that people have. While I know very well that God has this all in control, I do need to use this space to ask people to be praying for me and sending good thoughts. It never hurts to ask Him ya know? Please pray specifically for the travel over there, for continued faith, and for my exuberant joy while I’m at it.

I plan to write at least one more entry before I leave, probably entitled How Much I Hate Packing. Appreciating the love you all give me already, Acasia.