Unpacking Italy & Sicily
One bus, forty strangers, and sixteen days of wonder.
Hello friends,
Our theme this month in the Retreat Center is Il Dolce Far Niente—the sweetness of doing nothing. I imagined for you, and I suppose a bit for me while on vacation, slow mornings, unhurried afternoons, and the luxury of lingering in stillness. But what I actually experienced on my first trip to Europe was something quite different. It was Il Dolce Far Tutto—the sweetness of doing everything.
For sixteen full days, my daughter and I joined a Trafalgar bus tour through Sicily and Italy. We covered so many miles and countless moments: ancient ruins, seaside views, city streets, and quiet hilltop towns. What I brought home wasn’t just souvenirs, but a shared photo album overflowing with beauty (thanks to my daughter who captured all the memorable photos). More than that, I returned full—not just in heart, but mostly in my mind. My thoughts are busy unpacking it all: the impressions, the emotions, the unexpected connections, and the quiet nudges of insight that continue to surface.
How Do You Return After Italy?
How do you come back from a trip like this and slip seamlessly into the life you left behind? I’ve been sitting with that question.
This wasn’t just a vacation. It was five years in the making—a trip originally planned for March 2020 that got swept up in the tides of a global shutdown. And it wasn’t just about seeing the world—it was about honoring a long-held dream that belonged to the little girl in me. The one with French braids, flipping through a magazine she didn’t quite understand—held upside down, no less—but captivated by the pictures all the same.
To be honest, I didn’t share much while I was away. I thought I would document the journey in real time—but I quickly became overwhelmed. Culture shock? Yes. Sensory overload? Absolutely. But more than that, it was the emotional intensity that caught me off guard: spending nearly every waking moment with forty strangers who—like it or not—became woven into my story.
And then, on about day three, I got sick. A sore throat, a cold—just enough to blur the edges and slow me down. For someone who thrives on solitude, stillness, and slow rhythms, this whirlwind adventure was… a lot.
By day four, I found myself wondering: Why am I even here? The crowds, the constant motion, the unfamiliar everything—it was disorienting. I even contemplated going home. I was convinced that maybe I wasn’t built for travel after all. Maybe that’s why I’d never made it a priority. It just didn’t feel like me. Not yet.
An Invitation to Ride Along
So I’m giving myself time to unpack this—not just the suitcase, but the experience itself. And I’d love to bring you along.
In this series, I’ll share stories and reflections from my trip: the people, the places, the pasta—but also the quiet moments that moved me, the unexpected lessons, and the subtle ways this journey is shaping how I see the world (and maybe even myself).
Consider this your invitation to come along for the ride—not on a bus this time, but through memory and meaning. Each day, I’ll reveal a little more of the story and the sweetness I found in doing everything.
I’m not sure how long the series will last—only that it will continue until I feel fully unpacked, with the experiences and lessons settled deep into my soul.
Tomorrow, I’ll begin with what surprised me most:
The People on the Bus—how forty strangers became a strange and wonderful kind of family.
Have You Ever Come Home Changed?
Have you ever traveled somewhere and returned home a little different than when you left? I’d love to know what stayed with you—or what you’re still unpacking.
The Kitchen Table gathering returns Friday, June 20. Stay tuned for details.
Thank you Kathy ♥️ I look forward to journeying with
you!
My first trip to Maui in 1975 opened my eyes to an alternate way of seeing how things in life can go. I learned to walk in the darkness on unlit jungle paths. I learned to trust my eyes. learned that walking naked to crystal clear pools through jungle paths is the most freeing experience ever. I learned what freedom really feels like.
And when you only have 3 stubs of candles and you don’t know when you’ll get to town, you don’t light them all up to read a magazine at night. Awareness and care of resources was a very important lesson.
That ten days on Maui was the most wonderful ten days of my life.
It changed me to become who I am still becoming.