Closing: My Time Is Up!

As my time in Italy comes to an end, I find myself reflecting on what this experience has given me — and what I may be leaving behind.

I am on the train, travelling backwards at 250 kilometres an hour through the Tuscan countryside.

The speed is impressive, though at times I wish it were moving much slower so I could hold on to the beauty of the landscape just a little longer. The rolling hills, stone houses, rows of cypress trees and olive groves feel almost postcard perfect.

As I look out the window, another quiet message appears.

It feels appropriate in this moment that I cannot see where I am going, but I can clearly appreciate where I have been.

Across the aisle I notice a group of young women — college age — laughing and enjoying their new-found independence while sharing this European adventure together. I smile as I watch them.

I imagine how much I would have loved that experience at their age.

Now, at fifty-five, retired, with my children grown and navigating midlife, I am finally having my moment — my time. And I realize this experience is arriving exactly when I need it most.

During the train ride from Florence to Rome I listened to a meditation on Insight Timer. Charles Firelight said something that stayed with me:

“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”

It is in the quiet — the pause — where my creativity comes alive. It is where I process my thoughts and feelings and ask myself what comes next?

Sometimes the answer is simple: more rest, or a gentle reminder to myself — you’ve got this.

I am learning to listen instead of ignoring what my body is asking for. I am developing this skill, and it feels far more sustainable.

The old Lisa would have crammed in one more adventure and returned home even more exhausted.

This time I chose something different.

Instead, I returned to a place I knew would support what my body needed: a quiet spa retreat on the outskirts of Rome.

Here the only noise comes from happy birds in the garden trellis outside my room. I needed grass beneath my feet, trees overhead, and open skies — something that reminds me of home in northern Ontario during the summer.

I also needed forced rest, and this is where I knew I would find it.

Underground Roman hydrotherapy pools, saunas, a massage from an Italian man named Fabio — and with most of my laundry dirty, three days in a robe was also a very practical decision.

No navigating.

Just stillness.

Healthy food. No wine — by my choice.

My mind feels clear. I feel recalibrated. And I am deeply grateful for this new-to-me feeling.

When I return home, I have promised myself that I will continue to prioritize my health — body, mind, and spirit.

I will try to maintain some of my Italian rhythm: slower mornings, calmer intention, and space for creativity to flow.

My Italian checklist includes — of course — more gelato. Well-brewed espresso. Only good wine. I will nourish my body with simpler, more organic foods. I will protect my sleep and introduce fresh, crisp linens that feel almost decadent to climb into.

Definitely more walking. My body feels stronger and leaner returning home than when I arrived — thanks to hills, steps, and winding streets.

I will welcome quiet moments of reflection and continue cultivating the relationships that bring me so much joy.

Mostly, I will return home knowing that I accomplished something I had always dreamed of doing.

And now I have created space to imagine what comes next.

We each have our own journey.

For me, it was living in Italy for a while.

Travel also reminded me how people can weave themselves into our lives in unexpected ways. During the trip we reunited with Anna, our daughter’s exchange student from years ago, and shared a beautiful evening with her family in Verona.

What began as a school exchange more than ten years ago has grown into a lasting relationship across continents — another reminder that the experiences we create often ripple further than we imagine.

I am grateful, and it is not lost on me how fortunate I am to have the means, the confidence, and the support of my husband, family, and friends to make this experience possible.

I have also learned something important about myself.

I make things happen in my life.

I seize moments and opportunities when they appear. Opportunities are not always handed out — sometimes we must step forward and create them for ourselves.

I also had to give myself permission to follow through.

The temptation to go home, surrounded by the comforts of familiarity and the people I love, was very real. I suspect many women understand that feeling. Sometimes the biggest barrier is simply allowing ourselves to go.

This experience has also deepened my appreciation for home in northern Ontario.

The quiet.

The people in my life.

The cultural diversity.

The safety and freedom.

The open air.

The fresh water.

And sometimes — even finding a toilet seat in a public washroom.

We are blessed.

For years I believed I could sell everything and move to another country.

Now I think differently.

Don’t call me Dorothy just yet.

But perhaps I could live a few months of the year in Italy… maybe Portugal… maybe Spain.

This experience has given me the freedom of understanding what I need to be my best self — and the confidence to create that space regardless of obstacles.

Travel, like life, reminds me that the hard parts do not cancel out the good.

Sometimes the good simply comes after.

Moments that feel unsettled do not define the whole experience.

I originally came to Italy for the Olympics — to cheer on our Canadian athletes with my husband and dear friends. I could not be more proud of our country or the incredible experience Italy shared with the world.

It was magnifico.

A true bucket-list moment.

But I am leaving Italy with far more than I expected.

I am returning with a fresh mindset, renewed confidence in my abilities, and a deeper understanding of myself — something that, so far, only travel seems able to reveal.

There is also something I like to think I leave behind.

Beyond supporting local artisans or dining in family-owned restaurants, it is important to me that I leave small moments of connection with the people I meet.

Perhaps they will remember Lisa from Canada — appreciative, curious, respectful, maybe even a little funny — someone who truly valued her time in their country.

Like the train attendant who mentioned he loved collecting country flag pins and asked if I had a Canadian one.

I immediately opened my suitcase on the train and began digging through it to find mine.

Clothes spilled everywhere across the floor like a yard sale, passengers watching with mild confusion — but when I finally found the pin and handed it to him, the look of delight on his face and the spontaneous bear hug he gave me made the chaos completely worth it.

Those unexpected moments of connection are what excite me most about life.

Thinking back to the art I observed in Bologna, I remember something important.

The people who lived meaningful lives in the past did not wait for the world to become perfectly just before living well.

They created small islands of alignment for themselves.

Self-care.

Family.

Friendships.

Community.

Work.

Creative spaces.

This is what I intend to bring home with me.

Perhaps that is the real gift of travel.

It reminds us how we want to live.

Life does not simply happen to us – We participate in it.

Grazie mille, Ti amo Italia.

Until our next adventure.

Ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao.