|Last summer, I spent a month on the road in Europe, as part of an international business school experience. For the last little while, I’ve been posting an occasional series of purely self-indulgent* essays, inspired by the slice-of-life wisdom that only travel brings.
*You could say that I’m invoking the “it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” rule. After all, it’s my blog and I’ll… etc. etc. Still, I hope these are at least a little entertaining.
Life moves pretty fast.
If you don’t stop and
look around once in a while,
you could miss it.
— Ferris Bueller
I had a Ferris Bueller moment sitting on the steps of the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence. It was a sunny Sunday morning and I was on my way to the Galileo Museum. There were church bells ringing everywhere, and I had a takeout latte and pastry in my hands. As my backside touched down on the ancient stone steps, all I could think was “This is completely perfect and I am insanely lucky.”
Part of that luck was the fact that I’d stopped whizzing around for a moment and actually thought about where I was. By nature, I’m a frugal traveller, and so I’ll pack as much as I can into a trip, especially in a place like Florence. I’d arrived in one of the world’s greatest cities on a Friday night, and had to leave again less than 48 hours later. There wasn’t a moment to waste! Except … there was. There were lots of moments.
So I stayed on the steps a little longer than I needed to. Florentine life swirled around me: families heading to church, tourists getting lost, and itinerant street vendors laying out fake Louis Vuitton bags on blankets. It was marvellous to be a speck in that busy summertime universe.
And then I picked myself up and headed off to behold a telescope that had once lived in the mighty hands of Galileo Galilei (known to us as Galileo). As well as having an interesting name that sounds like the Renaissance equivalent of “Obla di Obla da”, Galileo brought us the concept that the Earth and other planets revolve around the sun. For this groundbreaking thinking, he ended up spending nine years under house arrest, accused of heresy. La la, how the life goes on.
A week later, I had another Ferris Bueller moment, this time in Rome. I’d gone to see a Caravaggio painting at the church of Santa Maria del Popolo on a Saturday night. Not just any Caravaggio painting, but “The Conversion of St. Paul”. I’d fallen in love with St. Paul in 1986, in a first-year Art History class. 28 years later, we finally got to meet face to face.
When I was done, I sat down on the church steps and tapped out “I just saw the painting” to one of my nearest and dearest back in Canada. The man at the other end of the phone would squint at the incoming message and then slowly smile. He alone knew that this Caravaggio masterpiece was my single most important quest in Italy.
And then I cast my gaze over to the square that adjoins the church, called the Piazza del Popolo. It was about 7:30 PM, and the sun was starting to go down, drenching the square in beautiful golden light. Someone was playing an accordion and I could see a man making long trails of huge transparent bubbles. Small children laughed and danced around him, like he was the Pied Piper of Dish Soap. All I could think was “This is completely perfect and I am insanely lucky.”
Italians use the phrase il bel far niente to describe Ferris Bueller moments. In her landmark travel memoir, Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert talks about il bel far niente:
This is a sweet expression. Il bel far niente means ‘the beauty of doing nothing.’ … even against that backdrop of heard work, il bel far niente has always been a cherished Italian ideal. The beauty of doing nothing is the goal of all your work, the final accomplishment for which you are most highly congratulated. The more exquisitely and delightfully you can do nothing, the higher your life’s achievement.
I think Mr. Bueller was right. Life does move pretty fast. You don’t want to miss those moments. Take a picture with your heart — and tell them that Ferris sent you.