August 3: I have always preferred predictability. Consistency is comfortable for reasons I now think I understand more clearly. A friend calls it fear, and he may be right. Whatever the reason for my frame of mind, predictability is not usually associated with travel. Things go wrong, and that’s part of the adventure. But I add stress to the situation by thinking that I have to fix it – to make it perfect again.
I can – and have been known to – drive myself crazy trying to force things to happen in a certain way. I drive past restaurants and hotels thinking that there’s a better one just down the road. But recently I’m trying a different approach.
Every day I write directions for where I’m going. Obviously, I need some sort of guide to see the things that I want to see. So following the route I planned today got off to a good start with a quick trip up and over Falzarego and Pordoi Passes. I missed the turn for the Sella Pass, although it was really pretty obvious if I had been attentive. Lunch in a small medieval town and some fiddling around in Merano wasted a good bit of time.
My directions ended with “4km south turn Grampenjoch Pass etc.” Normally I would target a specific destination not ”etc.” So after turning onto Grampenjoch at about 4:00 I felt like it was time to quit, and I took a turn for a town off the main road even though there were no signs for hotels or pensions. About 1.5 km later down a one-lane street with buildings crowded along the edge, I turned up the Gasthof Schwartzer Adler founded, if the sign is to be believed, in 1659. It has been in the current owner’s family for more than 80 years. Nice spot, good meal, a comfortable bed with a down duvet and all for 58 Euro.
This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened on this trip. When I stop trying to make it perfect and just listen to my gut, sometimes, maybe even often, things turn out for the better. It’s fascinating that letting go of control can make things happen for the better. When I focus less on perfection and simply trust that the right thing will happen I am truly in a better place.
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I wrote that last bit yesterday afternoon. I found the hotel partly by heading for the church that turns out to be just across the street. What I didn’t know is that the church bells toll the time: one every 15 minutes and then the hour.
All. Night. Long.