I believe there is a reason I find myself in Venice on my birthday.
Yesterday, I set out with a map in hand and an ambitious plan to explore the city. I had a substantial list of things to see and bacari (home of cichetti, venetian version of tapas) to try. The front desk had marked the places on my map, and I felt ready to go.
I hadn’t realized, though, that Venetian maps aren’t very accurate. They are usually just “impressionist” reproductions of the city plan. So, as you can imagine, attempting to reach the Accademia was a disheartening exercise. With the countless wrong-turns and backtracks, by the time I got there, I was too tired to focus on the art.
Same story with the bacari crawl. I insisted on searching for each one on my list, and got so lost in the process that I largely ignored the cichetti and focused on the alcohol.
After a considerable amount of time walking with my head down figuring out the map, I decided to F it and toss the map aside. I’d just go with the flow. And when I finally did that, I chanced upon San Pantalon, a nondescript empty church but on it’s ceiling was the most magnificent piece of art I had seen on this trip. I stepped in the church and couldn’t help but gasp.
That’s how it’s been for me. I’ve always had my head down towards a proverbial map of my life; always with some sort of 5-year plan. But when I finally looked up recently, I realized I didn’t like where I was. So this year, I decided to toss the map aside and go where the winding roads lead me. No plan in hand. Just dancing with the universe. Hopefully soon, I stumble upon my Pantalon.