the safest spot in the world is behind a piano and my friend’s shoulder.
first days in Palermo and the dynamics of kb and I in Sicily
written in NERO Coffee, Da Lat, VN on October 10-11, 2024
Glimmers
Currently, the climate in Da Lat around this time of year is rainy. Tropical ferns, monsterras, rubber trees, ficus bushes, and leaves that span and shade form a canopy on top. Above each deep dark-toned bench with firm indigo padding, bamboo sticks align under its own metal roofing to protect the area from precipitation. It’s a place for rest. There’s no one here in this oasis, and I take a seat.
I’ve been cafe hopping and everytime I enter one, as a self-proclaimed writer, I wonder if I should manifest the inner dreams of the rags-to-riches author, J. K. Rowling. I read somewhere how she used to bring her child with her as a single mother, even to cafes, to write. However, I bear no children, just thoughts.
I have “Peaceful Piano” on Spotify playing, a playlist stolen from my brother and sister-in-law. One morning, I woke up in their small smart home to automated window blinds opening and soft piano keys dappling around me 30-minutes to sunrise. The sky outside imbued in its deep hopeful colors before the coming day. This was the playlist that played.
I recall and crave these moments. Though I am sure the simple routine of waking up softly was not intended only for me, their guest, I took it as a symbol of love from my oldest brother, for he is a quiet man and rarely shows his feelings. So to be brought up in that sacred slow sunrise moment was to learn what comfort and home meant.
I have been struggling to find such a moment lately, as life on the road hardly guarantees. This morning, kb messaged if I was able to feel “okay” lately, as it was one thing I mentioned that I wanted for the end of this year.
“I want to be able to feel okay,” I sighed, gripping the steering wheel as my knuckles turned white as we drove from Giarre to Siracusa.
It is crucial to note that kb and I were penfriends over the internet for the past three years. And we were meeting for the first time in person.
“What does ‘okay’ feel like to you?”
These were the types of conversations we had in Sicily over dinner, gelato, and in bed. On our second night, we laid in bed for the first time together, blinking in the darkness. She asked how I was feeling.
“What were your glimmers today?”
Glimmers are a term used to describe moments that bring us joy. They could be witnessing the beauty of light spills through window glass, listening to a beautiful, unique melody in a large auditorium, eating our favorite meal, befriending someone new, or helping out a friend. They are the opposite of triggers.
After that second night, it became our routine check-in before heading to sleep. “What were your three glimmers, and what’s one thing you would change?” I’d lean towards her shoulder to feel close and to hear better.
Thus, we focused on growth and shared a part of our lives with each other. These moments are our most powerful connection. In these minutes to hours, we observed the world, our place in it, and listened.
Palermo Continued
We had pizza for our first dinner at Frida’s, a 10 minute-walk from Marika’s place. It was my first walk with her. I sprinted on the elevated sidewalk, and she ambled on the wide road. Even with my height boost, she still towered over me, and I began to gauge our different physiques. We stopped by to take photos of a historic city center and plaza where orange light glowed around archaic stone buildings and steps. I had no photographers’ urge in my arms to take any photos, as I was still nervous to focus on other things other than my friend I just met. To me, my friend was much more interesting than the city I was in. But I pretended to be interested and snapped away at my camera.
In retrospect, many things were happening as I soaked in all these new feelings. In my nervousness, the city of Palermo added more to exacerbate my vulnerable state. There was, too, the smell of horse shit and piss, and graffiti on the wall. The streets filled with litter, which I would see more of in bright daylight the next day.
Over our first dinner, I asked about her identity to get to know her more - what she was composed of, a question which she answered in full-depth and honesty, listing honorable values and characteristics. When my question was returned, my mind went blank and unsure what to say aloud, so I nervously reached for my marker in my bag, scratched on the paper placemat before me, “74% hot cheetos, 14% lasagna, 12% chocolate,” as they were the things I ate often.
The next day, we headed towards the Botanical Gardens to accidentally take a detour to a dilapidated building with rubbles. Again, litter tattered the lawns around the city. And I began to wonder if the entire trip was going to be like this.
Screaming in Silence in the Car Rental Shuttle
Adding to our first full day together, we went to pick up our rental car at the airport, in which I had experienced yet another triggering travel nightmare. After a lot of mistakes on my end of arranging the car rental, including losing my drone at some point, we found ourselves in uncomfortable silence of me fuming and staring hard at the other window to avoid kb’s gaze. I had just contacted four separate car rental employees in-person, over the phone, and internationally because of a wrong application form mishap that had the wrong dates. Least to say, I was miserable.
In the thirty agonizing minutes of self-pitying for losing my drone and being unable to bring such an expensive mistake up to her, I had an internal battle of whether to tell her or not, how to, if I do, and how to cope with my loss. It used to be a chronic problem growing up, in which was hard for regulate afterwards. I would cry and talk down at myself for being so adhd.
In the stiff air, kb sensed that I was struggling. “Thi, you know that I’m grateful to be here, right? This trip wouldn’t happen without you.” The words came to hug me, but I refused it. I worried about how I felt about my missing drone, which I hadn’t told her yet. I quickly squeezed her nearby hand, “I know.”
In a tiny miraculous moment, I finally remembered where I placed it and came up with a plan to retrieve it after taking care of the car rental stuff first. I slowly explained my situation and plan, revealing that I was more overwhelmed than thought.
It was embarrassing to seem so scatterbrained. I wanted to be seen as put-together. Yet, it seemed as if the biggest lessons so far of the trip were to stop planning things and let things naturally flow. kb had planned very little and had a successful flight. I had planned a lot and had miserable flight because not only my bad luck but also my expectations.
I was rigid, but she was flowing. It was challenging and compromising, but it somehow made us a good travel pair. In admiring the lengths we went through, I must pause and note the rocky roads which challenged our friendship and why glimmers are integral to not only ourselves, but our friendship.
June 3rd
We had a falling out on June 3rd, 2023. Two years into our online friendship, our broken connection made us resort to only contacting each other via email. In that dramatic period which stemmed from my own insecurities, I wrote how I was disappointed with life, my trajectory in it, how our connections did not feel lively anymore, and that I needed to make real friends in-person. I doubted our friendship and was scared of all the time I had “lost” in having an online friendship. So, I thanked for the past two years of our friendship and wanted out. In my farewell email, I wrote about a feeling from my childhood—
‘As a kid, I would hide behind the piano tucked away in the corner of our living room. Despite the nook harboring spiders and webs, I sat there just to bathe in the sunlight that spilled into that area. I would sit there after school and dissociate, hide away from family, just feel the sun on my skin, letting my body warm up and redden. It was relaxing for me. It was where I could finally get a sense of myself, my own body, and be alone with my thoughts. I’d pray. I’d pray for a friend that could understand me.’
In the broken connection, I felt misunderstood and unwilling to accept that distance that brought the challenges of waiting on each other and higher chances of us drifting apart, having different lives. My childhood trauma of being neglected and abandoned made us both shoot our pistons aimed at each other, as it was also her trigger. It was self-sabotage. I felt depressed that month of June.
That summer, I crashed into a car, riding my scooter in a torrential rain on the way home from work. I found half of my body underneath a car and laying in the middle of the road with rain droplets hitting my face, staring up at the power line. My life flashed in front of my eyes, and I just knew that I needed to resolve things with kb.
(I never told any of this news to my family as I was afraid that they would worry too much about me. So I made a pact with myself that wherever I traveled to, I would be sure to make a lot of friends that can help me in cases of emergency. When I got home with my bleeding elbow and scraped knee, my roommates, Jules and Alex, cleaned my wound and tended to my needs.)
Since then, I learned how to be gentler.
The first couple of days together were a vulnerable reality, but in it arose our efforts into making sure we were okay by checking in with each other each night. After all, we were to be together for the next 10 days and more. Celine in the Before Trilogies says, “The magic lies in an attempt to understand someone,” and I think that’s why my friend is magical. She’s trying to understand me, too.
As I finish this newsletter nearly exactly a month since this has happened, I am still soothing the empty feeling in my chest of having left my friend I grew fond of on that island. I recognize the courage of letting go my friend as we continue to grow in different spheres of our lives. I also recognize the power of writing our legend.
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In the next newsletter, I promise I will write about the brighter and funner side of traveling Sicily. Next stop takes us to a destination in which kb kept sending me a picture of over Instagram — two reclining chairs in Tonnara di Scopello.