Bureaucracies & Technicalities - Part 2

With an abundance of scenaries, from high mountains to desert valleys to lush forests, Argentina was a very attractive destination. I was lucky enough to have a family friend in Buenos Aires that could have helped me at the very beginning of my trip. We decided to take advantage of him and on the first occasion he reached Italy, we invited him over for dinner.
We talked about places and budgets, and overall, it seemed to be a decent deal. Argentina in 2012 wasn't craazy expensive although wasn't crazy cheap either, but with a good stock of US dollars and a bit of hostels-car sharing the whole trip could have been done. I was thinking about a month of pure tourism, doing it the fancy way, renting a car to maxime time.
My friend ended his talking telling me just one thing, out of his heart. He said Argentina is a beautiful country, and he would have suggested it warmly. On the other hand though, I was alone, a foreigner, in a land where people don't speak a whole lot of English and where I didn't really speak Spanish (although one might argue - like my dad would - that Italians and Argentinians are two cultures alike and therefore could bypass the language barrier by a bit of simililarity in the languages and a bit of gesturing). I would start the trip in, possibly, one of the most difficult ways.

He had a point. Even though I had my travelling experience before, a pretty good one for a guy my age, I had never undertook a project in the likes. Money was a concern too. Starting a 2-years trip with a massive set of expenses (a month of travelling with a rental car, for instance) wouldn't be that encouraging. It'd be rather depressive.
These two arguments made Argentina slipping down my list. And the list wasn't that deep, for a starting place.
I shifted my focus to New Zealand.

Back in those days I had no clue whatsoever about what New Zealand was. I didn't know its capital, its leading industry, its natural features, its population. Nothing. I had a vague idea of its geographical location, and that was about it. I started my study opening Google Maps, as always, just to find out that the country is somewhere west-south-west from Australia, that is divided into 2 islands, and that its capital is a city named Wellington. I found out that, compared to my country Italy, New Zealand's surface is roughly 1 and a half times bigger but its total population is less than the three biggest Italian cities combined (Rome, Milan, Naples). South Island's population density, for instance, is about 18 people per square mils. Italy's reaches 512! Also, it looked like the chance of meeting a human being in the country was far less than the one of meeting a sheep: New Zeland's home to more than 31 million sheep!
I started to investigate for some cool natural features. My thirst for different landscapes was big.
I got to know about the marine parks, the Alps, the hillside, the cities. About the Milford Track, dubbed by many "the best multi-day hike in the world" (Tourist agencies down there brag about that as well). In just a few minutes, I was sold on New Zealand. It really had an appeal on me.
I just had to..hmm.. find a job?
It involved finding out information on working visas first. New Zealand - you'll get to know - is pretty popular among so called "backpackers" not only because of its natural features, but also because of the simplicty of the visa process. In fact, it usually takes no longer than 2 days from the application date to get a visa issued - if you satisfy all the required criterias AND you pay the fee.
Given that there was no particular obstacle in obtaining a 1 year-long working holiday visa, I applied, paid the fee and went on. That was my very first expense in these 2, expenditure-riddled years!

I then started to think about jobs. I sent a few random resume - it was my first English resume and my first on-line application - without success, and just shortly after I started to question my tactic. "Am I really on the right track? Wouldn't I be better off by just going there and hunt for jobs locally?". Those questions made a lot of sense. That's what you do at home, right? Why shouldn't it be the same abroad?! I opted to stop submitting ridiculous applications (I'd love to see a few of them right now, I have a feeling I'd laugh so bad at them) and focus on finding a place to settle down in the country, for a few months (the plan was to stay in NZ for no longer than 4-5 months in total).
I ruled out all the big cities right away. I was leaving a city of about 200.000 people mainly to live in nicer, wilder places - like a village nestled in the mountains. Mountains, that's what I was looking for. I went almost immediately down to South Island. There's plenty of mountains down there, making it difficult to pick one spot. My attention went on a place called Queenstown, that looked perfectly positioned: on a nice lake, among several mountain ranges, not too far from the coast (at least as crow flies). It also had a decently sized population, not exceeding 20.000. After talking to a couple of friends, that positively reviewed their own experiences there, my decision was made. Queenstown was the goal.

New Zealand, from being just the place where the Lord of The Rings was shot, was now the country I was heading to. Queenstown, from the unknown realm, my next destination.

Having sorted destination and pushed back a decision on jobs, my main problem was now transportation. For the amount of travelling I wanted to do, and for the amount of freedom implied by my travelling-style, I needed a car. It was very much impossible though to secure a car from overseas. Imagine you live in Colorado, and you're looking to buy a car from a fella in Florida two weeks before you arrive in that state to relocate. How's that going to be possible? Of course you could send him money as a deposit to keep the car for you, but how do you know it's not a lemon? How could you inspect the car? There's simply no way to, so I quickly gave up in trying to find a solution to the problem. Even though I absolutely wanted to arrive in the country and be ready to set out as soon as possible, I had to postpone buying a car to when I actually arrived in the country.
I was still missing something under the voice "transportation" though... something that would had carried me to the country. I guess that was a plane ticket. It was time.
The day I started to look around for a cheap flight to New Zealand marked an important point for me. I knew I couldn't go back. Up to then, I could have still withdrew. Besides for that 160 new zealand dollars for the visa, no big money had been invested. An airfare to such a far destination.. well, that was a blow. It was the tie when I said to myself, "Alright, let's go!".
Using some search engines like Momondo.com or Skyscanner.com (both highly recommended), I drew a price map of the country. It looked like Auckland was the cheapest destination for those dates - mid October. Although Auckland was in North Island, I could have gotten statistically better chances of buying a decent car and I would have had a few days of travels to drive South that would have allowed me to catch a glimpse of the country. Make some travel notes for the future.

Eventually, I agreed with myself, reached for my credit card and typed all the information. When I clicked the "confirm" button, I was basically gone. I had left Italy. My family, friends, hobbies, possessions. My life.
And by the way, that "confirm" button also caused a debit line on my credit card bill for 870 euro. Man!

The flight I booked was scheduled to leave from Venice airport on October 21, 2012, and planned to stop at Dubai, Kuala Lumpur, Melbourne and finally Auckland. I still remember reading on the arrival date "+2". I was going to leave around mid-afternoon and I'd have arrived 2 and a half days later. Holy cow, I thought it was going to be cool! Like, sleep on every airport couch, eating junk food in between flights, getting down the last flight with a hungover face.
Well, I'd have found out soon.
Yeah, that it wasn't going to be THAT cool!

Bureaucracies & Technicalities - Part 1

Since that late August day, I knew where I was heading.
It was not a career in the bank anymore, but it wasn't an easy altough slow life in my hometown of Cadoneghe as well. It wasn't a life close to my family, to my friends and to all my childhood landmarks: the soccer field, the local church, the park, the walking path on the river bank, the pub. It was no more a life where Monday was soccer game, Friday and Saturday was anywhere around with my buddies and Sunday was a boring day spent wondering what to do. Nope.
It appeared it was going to be a life where I'd have been alone first of all, not being able to count on my family's close support, or my friends' company. It looked like I was going to be quite far away too. The first destinations I was considering - Argentina or New Zealand - ain't as close as Rome, you know! And it also looked like I'd have had to provide everything I needed by myself. From money to pay rent, bills, transportation and amenities to information on how to get around or receive health care or pay taxes. I was not really practical with that in my own country, therefore that whole thought kind of scared me a bit at first.
But I was about to be free. No more waking up at 6.50 each morning. No more customers yelling at me for nothing or bosses asking me for goals objectively impossible to reach. No more routine, no more preconcepts, no more silly, false behaviours, no more acting in a certain way to please people you know could be otherwise offended, no more staying at home, no more same faces, same shit every damn day, week, month and year. Wow. I couldn't wait!

You might get the impression I was extremely sick with my life at the time. Actually, you're right. I was. And I think the thing that was annoying, destroying me the most was routine.
Routine to me is not just doing the same things over and over again, in a scheduled fashion. Routine to me involves people as well. Saying that working out 3 times a week for 2 hours was my main interest tells a lot. I was bored. It bored the heck out of me to have a job that involved the same tasks and people every single day. It bored the heck out of me too to find myself in situations like not knowing what to do on a Friday night, or going to the same old places every time, or seeing the same people ALL-the-time. Plus, after the travels I had done already, I felt like my backyard didn't suit me fine anymore. I needed more. I needed wilderness, unknown country, vast lands, more wildlife. What could I've found over here? A trashed river bank? A public park? A cultivated field with maybe a fox hiding somewhere? (that of course would have at least 3-4 farmers trying to kill her, that's how it works over here. Any animal bigger or more dangerous than a songbird has to go, dammit)
I had some mountain side, yes. That comes for a price here though, which is seeing people everywhere. I haven't done extensive travelling in the Alps, but I've done my share. And I can't remember of a place that felt really isolated, wild. There were always horses on a pasture, cows grazing, or people sitting around a hut at 2500 meters sipping on a hot cocoa or eating fine salami and polenta. Oh man, not my stuff anymore. My concept of nature was getting wilder, and my typical recreational place involved having the chance of getting well away from the crowds, with even the possibility of getting LOST or in danger because of some harmful wildlife. It kind of added some thrill.
Walking in the mountains with cows around wasn't for me anymore.
The routine that involved the same, tasteless landscapes and the same people every time was killing me. I felt like the energies I knew I had were fading. I didn't show interest in anything but travels.
Sometimes I try to put myself in my friends. I have never pretended to be a necessary member of my bunch, but I think losing a friend - or having it around the way I was hanging around - can hurt, somehow. I think I wasn't stimulating for them at all back then, but that's how life goes. You can't pretend to be 16 all your life. You can fake you retain the same interests and energies and willing forever. I actually sincerely disliked the way most of the times we behaved, like we had to do certain things, we had to go out, we had to call on everyone.. otherwise what? We wouldn't be friends anymore?! C'mon now. That's life, you grow up, you might feel less close to certain friends than to others, and you have to accept it. You might be willing to spend an entire week sitting on the couch reading, and that's all good. Nothing wrong with that.
To me, it felt like all that was wrong, and that we had to be all friends, all good to each other forever no matter what. Yeah, I was a bit over that too.
I wasn't happy with my job, I wasn't 100% with my buddies and I didn't have nice recreational opportunities to overcome that deficit.
Guess leaving was the only escape!

It then came time to sit down at my desk again and start to organize.. everything.
Ain't no easy thing, I'll tell you right away.
It involves a lot of research, of nights spent on a computer screen sending emails or skyping the other end of the world. It involves a lot of activity and it penalizes lazyness.
I was already spending 7.5 hours a day sitting in front of a computer at the bank, and I had to integrate that dose with some more hours at home.
One thing is sure: it teaches you a lot, about everything.

First thing I had to come up with was a game plan. How long would I've been away for? Where would I like to go? How much money would I need? How long could I go on for with my savings? Where could I work in case I needed more?
These and other questions needed to be addressed. It wasn't an easy task. It's like giving an 8 years old boy a very difficult math problem. I was particularly bad at that, for instance - math has never been my thing!
I started with what someone would label as a "very stupid thing". I opened Google Maps.
I wasn't any genius in geography and I thought a world map might help. I got to know where places actually were located. I realized distances. I started to factor in airfare money, climate, demography, occupation. I basically did some basic but comprehensive research on each country that persistently popped up in my mind. And I started with New Zealand.
It came to life at first while researching with idiot queries like "best country to visit in the world". New Zealand, as of now, ranked for 3 straight years as the best country in the world for travellers. I said to myself, "Must be worth a shot!". Readings from blogs such as the ThornTree of the Lonely Planet just confirmed what I previously found. Examining carefully the country on Panoramio (a useful website with Google Maps interface and plenty of pictures from travellers all over the world) I had the strong impression that that country was really a must-see.
It wasn't alone on top of the list though. To name a few, these were the places I definitely wanted to visit, for a reason or another: U.S.A., Canada, Argentina, Australia, Thailand, Nepal, South Africa, Iceland, Japan, and possibly some side trips somewhere nearby each of the aforementioned.
One in particular sit high on the list and was the only competitor for a starting place.
It was Argentina.

Quitting the bank?! Heck ya!!

It looked like a Monday as many others had been, calm, almost sleepy, the rural small town where I worked trying to awake and get ready to face the week. People driving around in the morning hours at least avoiding the heat of the afternoon, some others stopping at the local bar for a jam-filled pastry and a cappuccino, others again pulling over in front of the newsagent for a to-go newspaper (just in small, rural town Italy, note!).
It wasn't a normal Monday for me though. It was actually a very special day, some kind of a milestone. I had made my mind up in the past few days, and I made my decision. I was ready to make my move.
While driving to work, in fact, I was trying to find the best way to let my boss (and my coworkers) know that I was going to quit.
Not that I really cared a lot. I wasn't trying to make it softer or anything like that. I knew the period for the bank, and our branch in particular wasn't an easy one. Our bank was under scrutiny for several transactions that took place in the past, and apparently upper management was being found guilty of a few felonies, mainly receiving bribes. Customers weren't feeling like their money was safe with us, and we had to face that feeling every day, with every customer. A pretty demanding task. Furthermore, our personnel situation wasn't idyllic. We were undermanned, and badly structured. We were losing customers to more competitive banks around us. A very big deal in a small town like that. Even considering the overall situation, I wasn't caring much about being sensible. All I cared was to get out of the place as soon as possible - legally, of course. A contract is a contract and I wasn't going to break any.

My parents got to know about my decision just the evening before. I told them I was going to make my move the morning after. They had been "brainstormed" by me about what I could have end up doing, for a long time. I think that, while at first they took my words as a joke, or a fantasy, their thoughts later evolved to dismay, resignation, acceptance and finally, support. They tried their best to make me understand especially the economic consequences I might have faced: losing a well-paid job in Italy at that time, crisis full-on, meant possible tough times. I didn't care. I was conscious of my skills and my capacities, I had no fear I could find another job, possibly much better, somewhere else. I had to give a big thank to my parents though. I think it's hard to hear such talks from a kid. You always want the best for your kid, and you don't even want to think about possible hard times for him/her. That's why my parents were so worried at first, and tried to dissuade me. When they came to realize that my willing was strong, and that I had carefully weighed pros and cons, they must have felt reassured and their fear became support.
I'll never stop feeling thankful to my parents for that support. Without it, I wouldn't be here writing about travels, skydiving, scuba-diving or car-camping.

The morning wasn't that busy, but I waited. I waited for us to have lunch togheter, and to return back to work. We opened back to public, as usual, at 2 PM for our afternoon shift. A little after 2.30, seeing the business wasn't great, I told my coworkers in the hall that I was going to have a talk with the boss.
I knocked on his door and he welcomed me in his office. I didn't have a deep relationship with my boss, for he wasn't the kind of person that opens up a lot with subordinates (or coworkers in general, I'd say) but he was always frank with me, speaking up his mouth in his pronounced dialect (he used to do that with customers as well).
"May I let you know something?", I started. "Of course, take a seat!", he replied.
I declined, saying my job was all about sitting all day long! So I started.
"Well... all I have to say is that I'm quitting!"
I still remember his face.
He turned his rotating chair towards me, his eyes very much wide-open, and said "Are you joking?"
"No, I'm actually quite convinced about it!"
He paused, slightly turned his chair towards the window again, then proceeded. "Well, have a seat now. When did you reach this conclusion?"
I started to tell him about my feelings, how restricted I felt living in Italy, especially my small town, and how "imprisoned" (almost) I felt at work. I mentioned the only time I really felt happy was during my scampers in the United States. I told him I had almost no interest anymore in talking to people at home, cause it looked like no one shared my feelings and my thoughts and my interests. I told him I needed a huge change, and quitting was what I had to do.
He didn't really object. He simply took notice. Then he started to speak.
"You know, I think you're doing the right thing. If that's how you feel, you're making the right move.The job we have is what it is, and the people around here, are who they are. I don't like all this either, and believe me, I'd love to scr** everything and leave, but I can't. I've got family, you don't, so if there's one that has the chance to do it, that's going to be you! You see so many people working in the bank that are highly unhappy, dragging themselves at work just because they need the money, maybe they have bills to pay and mouths to feed. But they're not happy. If you already feel your unhappiness, leave. You're doing the right thing, I'm not going to try to keep you here".

I felt awesome. I thought I was going to sit in his office for half an hour hearing somebody that would assume his role and try to talk me back into the boat. He didn't. I heard the words of a sincere person that actually shared my thoughts. Plus hearing words like "I'd do it too if I didn't have mouths to feed"... that's highly motivating. The message I got was something like "Do it now before it's too late!".
We then talked about bureaucracy. I had to go to the headquarters and talk them about my decision. So I set an appointment for the upcoming week with the HR for my area.
I had another duty though, first: let my coworkers know about it.
That was a bit of a mess, since I tried to be more polite and let everyone know separately, but some of them got word from the boss already. At the end, they were all sympathetic. All of them reacted positively, as if I was a little kid doing the right thing (actually I was a little kid, in that branch, compared to my coworkers!). Some of them even high-fived me. More than one said they admired me for my courage and were already jealous of what was next for me!
It already put some pressure on my shoulders, but it was a good kind of pressure. A stimulating one.
They were the first people - after my parents - that got to know about my decision, and the response was great, better than I expected. So far, so good!

When the following week I walked upstairs to the HR's office, I felt like Marco Polo could have felt in China during his expedition. Like an alien. I felt like that world made of appearing fancy and clever by wearing suits and ties, of money talks and not much else, of paper wasted in every corner and people highly unhappy hiding behind computer screens, I felt like that world didn't belong to me. Not at all. I walked convinced as ever of my decision.
The HR tried to talk me back into the company, of course. He asked me why I was trying to quit, he showed flashes of interest in my opinions, but at the end - as arguably an employee in his role has to do, no matter how sympathetic the person could feel - he just ended up again remarking me the opportunity I was letting go. I couldn't care less.
I remember asking his questions with extreme politeness, with a relaxed, peace-suggesting grin of which even myself was proud of.
Eventually, he gave up and told me how to act, in my own interest. I should have given a month notice (now that I know how it works elsewhere in the world.. well, a month's a lot!!), but at least I could have earned my last monthly wage - which was needed. I was already thinking right: "That could pay my flight to New Zealand and a few weeks rent!"
I agreed on the terms, and signed for my resignation. My last working day would have been September the 20th (awesome, long weekend!).

I shook hands and smiled, saying goodbye.
My last time at the bank's headquarters, I was thinking while walking downstairs. Never missed them.

Done. I did it. I felt like a freed-man. A freed-slave actually. So good, so free. I still had 3 weeks of work ahead of me but I knew they'd have gone by very quickly. I felt relaxed, for a little while.
Just for a little, because I knew that NOW, the fun was about to start. I had so many thoughts in my mind already - leaving involves a lot of planning, bear in mind!
When I got back home my relax had already shifted.
To focus.

Roots of a life's journey - Part 4

The trip in the North West left a deep scar on me. It wasn't the same feeling, that nostalgia for vacations you always have throughout the year, when you're at work. That scar had me thinking at a whole new level. After the inspiring people I had met, after hearing their stories and learning from them, after seeing lots of new, terrific places, I came home with questions. The scar was just enlarging, getting bigger with every passing day through the hot and humid Italian summer. I was going to work with my mind full of questions, and it showed. My productivity was plummeting as I was just showing people photos from my last trip and planning new adventures. Or, THE ADVENTURE.
June and July passed by fairly smoothly.
When me and a buddy of mine left for a short, 5-days trip in Eastern Europe, it didn't change a whole lot. We just enjoyed the time we spent around. I personally liked visiting Vien, or the little but charming Bratislava, or the quite awesome city of Budapest. I remember thinking briefly "I should get a job here!". You know, being single and without any interest in staying home, with all those nice-looking girls around looked like a perfect place for me, after all.
The place we had more fun than any other one though was Belgrade. I was returning for the third time, the first without a love-affair in progress. We were staying in a floating hostel (a great idea: small houses turned into hostels, developed on 2 or 3 stories, anchored to land but floating on the river) just about 50 yards across the city's Beer Festival. We probably wouldn't have chosen that particular location for 2 straight nights if we would have been aware that music would have been playing loud until cut-off time at 3 in the morning, but heck.. was a cool experience in itself!
We survived a "welcome!" shot of a local grappa that almost left us grasping for air, and for the next couple days we hung around with friends of mine - Dunja, Tamara and Dijiana - that made our stay nice and cool! It further strengthened my idea that sometimes, even though we have a preconception of a certain place, or country, we might prove ourselves wrong about it. I thought certain things about Serbia, for instance, and some of them surely remained that way. The thing I'd have never suspected though was its people, that could open so much and be so friendly and interesting. I also liked the city of Belgrade itself a lot - whereas other people still think it's a cluster of war ruins. Well, you know, you gotta try before you really know.

August, with people all leaving towards the crowded beaches or the mountain villages, was a reflective month. I started to imagine myself cruising the world, going to places I barely knew existed, doing things I heard of just on TV. I started to grab plain paper sheets and write down countries I'd have liked to visit, activities I'd have loved to try.
Every time though, I ended up dismissing everything as "a dream". My approach was still soft, realistic, and what was the actual goal looked more like a dream than anything else. Something cool to spend a few minutes daydreaming about. The funny thing was that over the weeks I accumulated tons of paper on my desk: calculations, facts, plans. At least my desk looked busy and professional.

One certain day though, I came back home from work. It had been a tedious day, and the routine was already killing me. I was sick of hearing the same stories every day, from the farmer complaining that the government was stealing his savings to the enterpreneur lamenting that debtors weren't paying. I couldn't care less. It was like I was living in my own sphere, lifted in the sky, among the clouds, thinking about great plains, endless oceans, high mountains. I turned my head around and focused my attention only when I heard words as "United States" or "travel". I was amorphus, carrying on through my days just because of the scarcity of better, more satisfying alternatives.
That day though, that feeling of sickness brought me once again to my desk. With more determination.

I sat down, glanced at my paper stack, shook my head and grabbed one last empty paper sheet.
I grabbed a pen and started to ask myself questions.
"Am I happy?", was the first one. The answer quickly came to my mind. "NO".
There had to be something positive though in my existence.
"What are the valuable things you have, or the ones that could make you happy?" So I started to write down... "My family and friends, and their company.. the thing I have a well paid job.. and that I can afford my nice car, and a bunch of fancy clothes.." .. and nothing more.
The question that sprung naturall afterwards was "Are these things making you happy now?" and of course, another NO came up.
I knew there had to be something out there capable of putting a smile on my face for more than an hour. Maybe for a whole week or month.. or year. "What do you think can make you happy?" asked myself.
The answer was clear. I started to write down things like travelling, hiking, watching wildlife, meeting foreigners, trying something exciting, facing new cultures. It looked like I really needed to go travel, basically.
To do that though, wasn't the easy choice. I'd have had to renounce commodities and a laid-back life for the uncertainty and tight circumstances I could have faced.
So I asked, "Would you be ready to sacrifice the aforementiond things you have and face uncertainty, restraint and possibly some kind of danger?"
I went on analyzing all the things I listed as important. My family, yes, it was, but you have to separate from it at a certain point. Not forever, but you can't be seeing your parents every day for your whole life! My friends.. well, it would have been hard. Still, I wasn't having the best time of my life with them. I already felt like I was talking another language, caring about different things, living another way. The times when we were all a bunch of young rascals playing outside from 3 to dinner time was well over, and it seemed obvious that we were starting to take different paths in our lives. It was the right time for my move.
Finally, all the goods, from a fancy car to nice clothes.. that's not happiness. There's people out there spending whole days shopping for clothes. Although it might make you feel alright, it's an ephemeral feeling. Doesn't last for a lifetime. You'll need a new pair of jeans each week, to show your friends, to sport proudly on the streets. Does that lead to happiness? In which way, might I ask?
No, that wasn't all. That was something I could have easily let go.
If I had nothing to make me happy while travelling did, and I was ready to sacrifice those things I cared about, where was the problem?!
Truth is, there was no problem, at all.

To the question of whether or not I shall have left, the asnwer came out swift. It was a "YES".