Today is not a beautiful day, and I’ll tell you why.
I’m on a dirty-old-rotten-Russian train, heading Siberia, since more than 24 hours, and I’m bored.
I red, wrote, slept, red and wrote again, but still I’m super bored.
In Argentina – maybe you remember – I was on a bus straight for 48 hours, but that time Davide was also there and there were other people to talk to.
Here I am alone, and no one understands me.
The girl who “manages” the coach smiles a lot and is very kind, but she also doesn’t know even a single word in English.
I have more 25 hours in front of me, and really I do not know how to use them.
I could be there with you today, welcoming Grandpa as he’s back home, but I’m here instead, in a Russian town called Druzhinino, waiting for the tracks to start flowing again beneath me.
I could sit at your table and taste Aunt Franca’s lovely dishes, and instead I ended last night my plastic-roasted chicken and today I am going to feed myself on chips, cookies, nuts and some other imperial lust I will buy from street vendors between few “Da” and “Niet” I’ll not understand.
I could drink a very good wine with Dad, Uncle Vale and Aurora, and instead I’m going to cheer alone with some Sifnos-wild-sage tea and stale beer closed in plastic bottle I found yesterday in Moscow.
I could lie down on the couch at home to make a nap, and instead I’ll stay on my little cot, dressed with hat and sweater because of a draft that blows right by my window and breathed all night long a cold music down my neck.
I could go to the bar to watch Inter – Juve, and instead it will look for updates in the rare moments I have internet, hoping Dybala will score 3 times and imagining your disappointment like it was on May 5th some years ago.
I could play with Andrea and Giulia, have a good time with Elisa, Cristina and Cristiano, or drink a beer with my friends, and instead I’ll try to dodge my vagon-mates dangling feet until it gets dark and I fall asleep.
Sometimes I go at the window and look outside, like stoned, even for an hour, just to spend time. Mostly it rains or it’s grey all over. Russia is mainly flat and I can see nothing but woods. Many, many, many woods.
Sometimes I also spot few coloured roofs and then some villages all covered with cold and sorrow, you could barely imagine someone could live there.
So, yes, today is not a beautiful day.
Then I think about where I’m going and why I’m doing this, and cannot get an answer from myself.
I just know that I have to go, at least for a while still.
Just for going? Yes, maybe just for going.
Or maybe cause I don’t know what else I could do now.
I sacrificed so much of my loves, of my savings, of my projects, to be here, and I will not stop now. Not yet.
All those “I could” for now remain thoughts which I am holding tight in a corner of my heart; they are supporting me, giving me strength and will return to reality soon.
But still I have much to discover, to understand, to share and to learn … so please excuse me if I’m not there with you today.
Today, Mom, it’s a beautiful day, and I’ll tell you why.
Cause being here, right now, in this moment, makes me happy.
Thank you for thinking about giving me birth, as I am, 33 years ago.
And for always being with me, ever since.