Slow Trains, Love Strains

So far, the train rides through Italian country side have been some of my favorite times on this trip. For one thing, they give me the chance to write these posts, and for another, they allow me to try out some of my questionable Italian language skills. To clarify, I don't actually speak Italian, but thanks to some skills picked up singing in Italian and Latin and playing music for years, along with a little pre-trip coaching from Aaron, I'm able to carry on a respectable conversation as long as I have my little Italian phrasebook (which Aaron bought and had shipped right before I left). I've met some interesting people! Of course, on these trains there are also lots of people from all over the world—I mean, who doesn't want to visit Italy sometime in their life? It's fun to meet young people traveling through Europe on their own with backpacks (I kind of envy them—what a great breaking-into-the-world experience to have!), honeymooners coming from all over the globe: Germany, Egypt, Argentina, older couples taking advantage of their empty-nesting years, just about everything you can think of! They all have little nuggets of knowledge and advice about where to go and what to eat. It's marvelous!

So, today's train ride took us from Milan to Venice. Along the way, I put together the last few blog posts, chatted with my dad about his mild obsession with "what color personality are you and my own little obsession with "what this trip means" in his life and in my life. Haha, we're so deep.

Anyway, on this particular voyage to that most romantic of destinations, the city on the sea, Venice, I had a chance to think a little about the love in my own life. And basically it comes to this: I am so lucky! I literally can't imagine a more wonderful person or partner than Aaron. We have such grand adventures. It's so fun to talk into the night about music, about life, about our kids. But we have our tricky spots and quarrels too. So often we get caught up in trying to fix each other, and unlike many couples, we're both relatively willing to be fixed—after all, we don't want to be stuck in bad habits that make each other or ourselves unhappy in the long-term. We have this weirdly symbiotic relationship, where nagging is sometimes encouragement (both ways on this! I promise!), and where we both really want to reach a better place, even if we sometimes struggle to find the right road to reach it. This voyage has given me a new perspective on how lucky I am. I can't imagine that there are many (any?) other men in the world who would not only be willing at the drop of the hat (this trip was literally planned and executed in a matter of weeks) to take on all four kids alone alongside their own work schedules, and then, beyond all that, to plan the details of their wife's trip including places to stay, tickets to museums and events, and trains from city to city right down to directions to and from train stations. I'm the mom, and I assure you that I haven't been so solicitous when Aaron has traveled. I've sort of been awed by all this, to be honest. And it's come with the sort of sad realization that I'm not always at the top of my game as far as being a good partner is concerned. My desire to be better has been inspired! So one of the many, many (but possibly the most important) things that I am taking home from this trip is that desire: to be more attentive, to be more compassionate, to work harder for the welfare of my wonderful husband and family, and to take my role as a wife as seriously—no, more seriously—than my role as mother, to not be complacent, to not procrastinate, and to really be the partner that Aaron deserves.

The other "take-home message" on my mind has been this experience with my dad. What a different (in a really delightful way!) experience traveling with him has been from traveling with my family. He's much more laid-back and chill about our everyday activities. So far, he's been mostly content to hand the reins to me and wake up each morning saying "so, what do we do today?" Before we left he delegated the responsibility of "teaching him about art and architectural history" to me. My dad has always had an artistic vibe about him—when I was younger he would brag about a wallet he had made in a leatherworking class that won him a prize, and I used to love playing with an intricate wood puzzle in the shape of a ball that he had also made. The little drawings he would make for us were always exquisite, and I especially remember admiring plans that he drew up for his "dream house" that he hoped one day to build for our family. Though years, sad events, and a divorce kept that dream house from becoming a reality, I always admired my dad's artistic side. As we've talked on this trip, it's been interesting to realize that even though he always loved and admired art, particularly creating it, growing up he felt that it wasn't a socially acceptable interest for him to pursue—it seemed like a feminine pursuit from his perspective in little Logan, Utah. I love and admire the way that though there have been many intervening years and obstacles, he's now decided that no matter the past, he is going to get from life what he wants from it. And for him, that means a healthy dose of art history, which let me tell you, I'm all too willing to contribute to. I mean, what art history buff doesn't want to wax all loquacious about diffusion of light on a canvas or anatomical details in a sculpture? Though my dad has nothing like Aaron's predilection for efficiency or his meticulous planning that takes into account most potential problems, it is incredibly easy to be with him, to know that he's good with whatever conversation, change in plans, or unexpected opportunity comes along. I find traveling with him to both physically relaxing and conversationally stimulating. Such fun!

Tonight we rode down the Grand Canal of Venice on a traghetto, which is the big old boat that functions as basic public transportation in a city built on water. We listened to an audio tour by Rick Steves (yet another example of Aaron's attentiveness—he downloaded a bunch of these from the internet and put them on not one but two MP3 players so that both my dad and I could listen to them as we visited galleries, churches, and even walked or rode through these cities and towns; alongside that comes another example of both my dad's and my, um, relaxedness? We've only once managed to have both MP3 players present and functioning on full batteries at the same time!) that told about the glorious city of Venice, and how it is now falling apart a bit, due to some crazy regulations that prevent owners of properties from making needed improvements to their places. As a result, the city has lost over half its population over the past decade or two. How does that happen? How does something good and beautiful turn into something sad and falling apart?

Coming away from my life, looking at it from a distance, with fresh eyes, gives me a chance to survey things from a different perspective. Right now I can see little cracks and fissures that could lead to more serious damage in the future. I can also see places where I am putting too much attention on little surface lines that will probably never turn into a major problem. When I'm in the middle of homework and bedtimes and food and shopping and all the milieu of minutiae that clutter my mind and my time, it's not easy to see where those little cracks are, or what kind. Sometimes it feels like they're all everywhere! And gaping! But they're not all equally important, and being here gives me the chance to look them over, see which have the potential to become critical, and which of them not only don't matter, but actually add a bit of character to the face of my life, our marriage, and our family. I don't want a fallen apart life/marriage/family in the future, so I need to pay attention in the right places at the right times. And also, I should probably not regulate too much. Because let's be honest, I might possibly have a slight control problem.

So yeah. Let me just say again, I love Aaron! So much. I am so so lucky!! And next time I ride a train in Italy, it better be with him!!