Sometimes, the best plans are those that receive an unforeseen twist of fate, a tweak from poor timing, or just flat out go wrong. Miss Morningstar, my high school art teacher, always smiled even when I glazed my pitiful clay pot the complete wrong color. She would habitually reassured me there are no mistakes in the world of art, just divergent means to craft something new, perhaps something a meticulous, chained mind would never explore. Four years removed from those drawing lessons and still her proverb rings in my head, moreover it unexpectedly crops up in diverse episodes of life, persistently lending itself to my experiences, with the most recent being a day trip gone askew, not wrong, just askew.
9:52 Friday morning, the pizzeria woman and her pizzeria husband hand us our slices of pizza while simultaneously making Italian small talk. Returning friendly chatter between bites, I was actually quite taken back. My two roommates Jack and James were I think as surprised as I was. We had often frequented this exact pizzeria and the owners were never so friendly. In my head I briefly hypothesized how it could be so, concluding they must simply must be morning people and we had always caught them in the afternoon, past their peak cordial hours. 9:56 pushed us out the door as we smiled our “grazies” and “ciaos” through pizza sauce smeared lips. My mind quickly switched to the task at hand which was to accomplish our predetermined plan of meeting our friend Tami at the bus stop by 10:00. Yet, at the time it seemed to me and I think also to everyone else an arbitrary moment, because none of us for sure knew when the bus left. What I did know for certain was we were bound for the Mediterranean coastal town of Tarquinia, also the pizza in my mouth tasted really good. Together these two things are by nature not meant to be rushed so naturally we sauntered the through the Viterben streets.
10:05 and Tami comes into view at the bus stop, she was smiling but not because she was happy. Tami just always smiles. In fact she continued her courageous smile even as she told us that the bus bound for Tarquinia had left at 10:00 sharp. Ouch, it stung and the pizza taste turned bitter in my mouth. The situation grew sour and the irony even thicker as she explained, still smiling, that the next bus was not for two hours. Momentarily, I cursed our carelessness and that stupid, delicious pizza. It was a brief moment though because I think then that Tami’s perpetual smile reminded me of my high school art teacher smiling and telling me there are no mistakes just divergent means of creating something new. It was my turn to smile and I did as I walked over to the map of the local area and began crafting something new. My finger moved East from Viterbo to Tarquinia. Along the way was the small town of Tuscania, the schedule said the bus for Tuscania departed at 10:30, something beautiful was forming. We would go to Tuscania, because there really is no going wrong when it comes to exploring random Italian countryside villages, and then perhaps we could catch a bus from their to the coast. Fifty minutes later, the bus was pulling away, leaving us standing beside the medieval walls of Tuscania.
The next couple of hours slid past unnoticed. Tuscania enchanted us and I think all her visitors with quant colorful houses, rolling hills, and impressive cathrials. We filled her streets we listless chatter and goofy photo shoots. Before long we had happily seen all that we desired and my thoughts again turned to Tarquinia. 1:30 it was still early and we all decided to give the coastal trek another try. Not knowing when a bus would come or even if it would come, we placidly waited at the bus stop. Jack and I had our head phones in, Tami was sketching, James was… well I don’t really know what he was doing, but I think we were all content in our circumstances.
“Tarquinia” flashed in button light bulbs above the bus windshield as it pulled up to the stop. Excitement burst inside of me, but I immediately doused it with a hefty serving of salt so as to not set myself up for what could easily be a let down. My Italian was shaky as I asked the driver if he was indeed bound for Tarquinia. Wouldn’t you know he responded in the affirmative. I smiled and thanked him before waving the others onto our ticket to the sea. It was not the route I had in mind when the morning started, but we were going to the coast after all.
(To be continued...)
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