Travel Pathology

Why haven’t you written to me yet? The skeleton of a paper accuses me from my laptop screen. 

Well… I’ve never really written a dissertation before, it’s difficult to know how to begin. I confessed to my personified project. 

To my left, the window frames a chaotic thunderstorm juxtaposed by delicate piano notes of Debussy streaming through my laptop speakers safe within the otherwise silent flat. Church bells echo from time to time and birds chirp in the distance adding to the lovely symphony of the rain and Debussy, although, I worry where they are finding shelter in such weather. Occasionally the film score of this scene is interrupted by the wind tunnel sound of planes taking off overhead, not so dissimilar to the one I was on yesterday. 

Today presents a perfect opportunity for our game, “Where’s Kaylin?”

I woke up in a spacious three-bedroom flat that inexplicably smelled like my grandmother’s home in Arizona. The Tuscan sun remained hidden behind slate gray clouds as I made my way to the kitchen to prepare an americano using the provided Bialetti.

“It’s a perfect day for dissertation work,” I concluded as I opened my laptop on the desk in the far-back bedroom of the flat.

I open an email that reads:

Hi Kaylin, Ah, yes, the sense framework. It’s also not uncommon for students to change topics 🙂.  Good to read that you have found something that excites you!  That is exactly what is needed when doing a dissertation project.

See you tomorrow!

Except she won’t see me “tomorrow” (today). 

This is because last Friday I really wanted to have a proper picnic in the sun. My next day off would be Monday, so I planned to grab a bottle of wine and some cheese and lounge under the cherry blossoms. But when I checked the weather, the forecast was for a dreary, rainy day—not optimal for a picnic. 

Hmmm, where could I go that would be sunny?

I found myself lounging on my bed, browsing destinations logged through Ryanair, making up a hypothetical scenario where I boarded a plane to a sunny land with good wine. Hypothetically, if I left on a Sunday or Monday and returned by Thursday, then I wouldn’t miss any work. And hypothetically, do I really need to be in Edinburgh to write a dissertation?

Scrolling down through the list of available flights on Monday, Pisa caught my eye. The prices astounded me. Round trip cost only £50, with one leg advertised for £12. I have paid more for a yogurt bowl than for transportation across the English Channel, through France, to the center of Italy. I finished the final puzzle piece of this hypothetical scenario, checking lodging prices and finding a central three-bedroom flat overlooking the Giardino Scotto listed at a 40% discounted rate for only 70 euros per night. Before I knew it, the hypothetical scenario became my plan for the week, at the cost of playing hooky from Tuesday’s dissertation course. 

“You can either work on your dissertation in Edinburgh or Pisa!” Bella exclaimed when I shared my plans to escape to Tuscany during my quick closing shift on Friday night.

Monday morning, I rose to a very wet Edinburgh. Thank goodness I am escaping this weather. I plopped through rain puddles all the way to the tram station, which then took me to the airport. After a pleasant little lunch hour on the plane, I landed in Pisa that afternoon and walked from the airport to my central flat. It was all too easy. The sun was already working its magic, and I was desperate to change into a summer dress the moment I stepped into the cool air of my flat, made possible by its large shaded spaces and tiled floors.

I didn’t necessarily have my picnic in a park with cherry blossoms like what started this whole thing, but I came close. I ended up having my picnic on a little street table in charming Pisa, sipping my Chianti. 

And now, after a successful evening in sunny Tuscany, I am ready to dedicate this morning to my dissertation work, tucked away in this quiet flat that’s much too large for just a girl typing on her laptop. 

The espresso in the Bialetti boiled over, signaling its readiness, and I added its contents to a little water. The rain continued to drench the grassy outdoor space outside my window. After setting up my workspace in the back bedroom of the flat, complete with my journal, laptop, and americano, I set to work on my background section

Finally, I have some inspiration for this assignment—bringing together a nurse-based model for the care of geriatric communities and applying it to adult support services for the homeless. I know it is the right topic selection because I cannot stop talking about it to anyone who asks.

The rain stays steady for the rest of the morning, encouraging me to write. Thunder eventually rolls over the city, keeping me invigorated and cozy as I occasionally take in the historical view from outside the window. Debussy continues to play in the background.

Eventually, the rain stops, and I see that I have pulled together 633 words out of the 15,000-word limit. It is around 2 pm, and my stomach is sick of only having an americano. Time for a break. I step outside to the freshly washed earth and now blue Tuscan sky, wearing my old sunglasses that feel foreign to my face after a winter in Scotland.

I decide that I am going to walk around the city for a quick loop, then walk back to the flat and finish up the final part of my research question. Stopping first to grab a jelly-filled pastry and a café latte at a cafeteria, I walk and eat and enjoy the views of the river and lovely historic buildings

I continue to meander through the narrow streets of the city center. I locate a small shop selling postcards and peruse through the different pictures of the city, most of them depicting the renowned leaning tower of Pisa. Somehow, when selecting this destination, the tower never came to mind. I remember learning about the leaning tower of Pisa from a textbook in secondary school, and I truly didn’t actually think I’d ever see it in person. And honestly, the trip was so spontaneous; I really never performed the typical pre-travel research that fills an itinerary of tourist attractions and activities. Rightfully so, since, once again as a reminder to myself, this week I am less of a tourist and more of a student who, in case she forgets, has a rather large assignment to get back to. I resolve today I will focus on my dissertation, and tomorrow I will see the tower during the early morning with hopefully fewer people around

I purchase a few postcards (some of you should expect mail) and continue on my way, clearing my mind with the fresh air and starting to find my way back to the flat. On the opposite side of the river, I navigate through a maze of streets. When I glance up, I spot a white marbled tower with a flag bearing the Pisan Cross, peering over the rooftops. The tower doesn’t appear perfectly straight.

I stick to my current path, and before I realize it, the buildings vanish, and I find myself in the magnificent expanse of the Piazza del Duomo. Before me stand the cathedral, baptistery, and bell tower of Pisa. It’s truly breathtaking.

Of course the concept of a tower that is leaning, crooked, imminent to fall over, is intriguing, but the leaning tower of Pisa takes on a whole new significance when you’re actually standing beneath it. I continue my stroll along the impressively adorned Cathedral and the Baptistery with my eyes drinking what they can. I must have been lucky, the rain must have driven most of the crowds away and so the Piazza was fairly clear aside from the few tourists with their hands raised as if in an evangelical Christian gathering, following their photographer’s directions to create the trendy illusion of supporting the tower in photos. 

As I soak in the ambiance of the Piazza, contemplating spending the entire afternoon there, I eventually decide to return to my work and promise to return in the morning. Awestruck and contemplative, I slip into another narrow street of cobble bordered with yellow tinged buildings, trying to stay out of the way of traffic. 

Navigating back to my flat, the heat of the afternoon begins to drive a need for something cold and bubbly. Glancing up from my view of sandals on the cobblestones, I spot a perfect clearing and a cafe called “Mariposa”. The cafe appeared tailor-made for its surroundings, nestled in a manner that suggested the streets and architecture were crafted specifically to accommodate it. Its entrance, discreetly tucked into a corner, revealed a larger space inside. Outside, tables nestled comfortably beneath umbrellas, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The clearing felt airy and expansive, yet still retained a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

As I debated between enjoying a refreshment at the cafe or returning to my dissertation, I spotted a free table in the sunshine. That must be a sign. The cocktails were only 5 euros. Another sign. The name of the cafe, “Mariposa,” is the same as the street where my favorite Italian restaurant resides in San Francisco. Another sign. Even my phone case is adorned with butterflies. Alright, so I must pop in for a wee refresher. I’ll write my postcards, then head back to my flat and continue my school work.

“Prendo gin tonic, per favore.”

I promise I will get back to dissertation, eventually.