Beautiful Discomfort By Isabel Cook

By Isabel Cook 

When my roommate and I decided to backpack Europe, I had no idea the kind of perspective-altering experience I was in for. We had stayed in Spain, the Swiss Alps, and Amsterdam, and it was finally time to trek to our workstay in rural Italy. It was just the two of us, and it had been quite a journey to get there. On our way we were stranded in a beautiful rural beach town called Fano. We found there were no buses to take to the next town on our journey. Barely anyone spoke English, but we found ourselves at a supermarket with a kind cashier who helped us call a taxi. It was an hour long ride, exhausted, bruises on our shoulders from our backpacks, we couldn’t bring ourselves to care that our driver was racing though traffic at 120 miles per hour. He was on the phone with someone and all we heard was what we roughly translated as “I’m in the car with two foreign girls, I don’t know where the fuck they want me to take them.” He played 80s American pop hits and we sang along. As we arrived I could feel myself

becoming more nervous. We were in the Apennine Mountains. It was so beautiful, but no one was there. The town felt completely abandoned. We looked at each other, smiling with nervousness. Soon the couple we were going to be staying with arrived to pick us up. They drove an old stick shift, and I couldn’t describe them as anything other than what my parents would call “hippies.” 

We got in their car, and as they drove us even further up the mountains and I began losing cell service I thought “What am I doing right now?! I am trusting these strangers with my life.” The mountains were so windy that I thought we might fall off the side, which I kept imagining. I couldn’t help but take pictures, even though I felt like a tourist. We passed their neighbors as they pulled into their plot, they were all elderly, and they enthusiastically honked and waved at each of them. They led us into their home. It was the old school building of the abandoned village, and they were turning it into what they called a ‘holistic community’. Our room was upstairs, there were no doors and no air conditioning, but we slept like babies as a result of our days long journey from the Netherlands. 

We got up around 8 the next morning to work. Our hosts had already been up for a couple of hours practicing yoga. A vegan breakfast was made by a few of the other kids our age that were staying—a couple of wonderful girls from Australia, and the kindest girl and guy from Brazil. Before eating we held hands in silence for a few moments, taking gratitude before starting our day. I felt out of place in their peaceful nest. I felt that at any moment I would do something wrong and tarnish the possibility of a connection with these people.

We helped with their renovations and chores from 9-1 everyday. We cooked together, cleaned together, got our food from the garden and our water from a spring, we had dance parties where I learned how to samba (badly), and suddenly I felt like I belonged. At night we all laid together as our hosts played instruments and sang together. They walked around us with singing bowls and sage, and practiced Reiki on us. We swam in the most clear, beautiful river I have ever seen. No sunscreen was allowed so as to not disrupt the ecosystem. The air there was full of laughter, children yelling, and tobacco. At the commune I met a beautiful Australian girl from London who taught me how to roll a cigarette, and later let us sleep on her couch for a music festival in London. One of my favorite experiences from this trip, though, was a birthday party. What seemed like all of the people from the village gathered in a park to celebrate. The wine was flowing, the food was indescribable, and the energy was something that I cannot even describe as happiness but as pure joy. We danced around a fire that night while everyone played instruments and sang. Part of me wishes I had captured this on video, but at the moment I know that this experience was something too special to place anywhere except for my own memories. At the end of the trip, we added to the mural that was being painted by all of the travelers that found themselves passing through. 

In such a short time there, I truly transformed. I carry the love and light of them with me every day now. The people I met were so peaceful, they happily welcomed their homes and hearts to connections with strangers who were bound to leave. I was so scared when I arrived. I learned that it's okay. I learned that I can do things that are scary and nontraditional and the outcome can be more impactful than I could imagine. More than anything, I learned how to push myself out of my comfort zone. The experience was not comfortable. At first, it was extremely uncomfortable. Now when I have the opportunity to do something that I’m uncomfortable with, I take it. I don’t think there is a better way to transform. Please, whatever you do, be uncomfortable.