As I walked through the baggage claim area of Rome's Fiumicino airport I wondered if I should really be doing this right now. I had booked this vacation months ago after my breakup with Janet, but now I had been laid off and wasn't sure if a one-week walking trip through Lazio, Italy was the best life decision at this particular moment.
I could have easily cancelled and only forfeited a small deposit, but it was far too late for that now. I had to go with it, my bank account be damned. With nervous anticipation I approached the two guides waiting for me at the assigned meeting spot and promised myself to just enjoy it.
The two Italian guides, Anna and Martina, greeted me with a handshake and a smile. In perfect English they explained that we were just waiting for a few more from our group to arrive and we would be on our way.
I introduced myself to the other three women who were waiting with the guides. Sue, Kate and Mary were all British women in their 50s and 60s. Given that this touring company was based in London, I figured the majority of the group would be from England. I wasn't sure, however, of the age and gender makeup for this type of tour. It was rated as one of the more rigorous trips offered by this company, so I assumed there would be some younger people signing up.
I was wrong. At 35 years old I was easily the youngest in the group by 20 years. The three women I met already seemed physically fit so I was sure they wouldn't slow us down. I was a bit worried I would be the one lagging behind, especially since I had put on entirely too much weight since the break up and wasn't quite sure if I could walk the 10-12 miles a day we would be trekking.
I made chit-chat with the women as we waited for our final members to arrive. Eventually a man and woman approached the group excitedly.
"I think we've found them!" exclaimed the man with a cheerful London accent. "Hello there! My name is Paul is and this is my daughter Sara."
"Welcome!" said our tour leader Anna. "The whole group is here. Let's make our way to the van so we can get going. If you need help with any bags Martina will be happy to help."
We made our way out of the terminal and walked to the short-term parking lot where two vans with the tour company's name and logo were parked. Anna gave a brief welcome to the group and explained that we would be having a quick drink and snack before leaving for our first destination.
Drinks in hand, the members of the group introduced themselves and made small talk. We would be spending a week together, so I thought it best not to make too many pre-judgments of anyone there. I did briefly worry that being so much younger than the rest of the group may alienate me, especially considering I was also the only American on the trip. I was grateful, however, that there was at least one other man on the trip in Paul.
I learned that Paul was 78 years old and had done a number of these trips before with his daughter. He was in terrific shape, standing about 6'1" and very trim. He wasn't traditionally handsome; with somewhat exaggerated facial features: a large nose, large ears and goofy grin filled with ever-so-slightly crooked teeth. But he projected a kind happy confidence that made me feel insecure and even a tad jealous.
"So tell me Alexander," he asked as we made our way to the first hotel. "What is it that you do in the States?"
I tactfully explained that I was "between jobs" and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, still feeling the sting of having been laid off weeks prior.
"I'm sure you'll find your way," replied Paul. "Perhaps this trip is exactly what you need for a proper fresh start."
For the first time in months I felt a sense of warmth and kindness that had been absent from my life. Holding back tears I thanked Paul for his sentiments and told him how much I was looking forward to this trip and getting to know everyone. With a large, toothy grin and a laugh, he replied, "as the only men here we'll have to stick together!"
The first two days of the tour were delightful. Our guides took us through the Italian countryside, stopping periodically in villages that looked like they were from a different era. I got along with the group as I got to know them, sharing stories as we made our way from town to town each day.
Paul was an absolute marvel physically. On each walk he would charge ahead, sometimes leading the crew ahead of our tour guide. Even at 78 years he old he never seemed to tire, and was so sure-footed that he was the only member of the tour who didn't carry hiking poles, which I found necessary on some of the trickier sections of terrain.
On several occasions I tried to pick up my speed so I could walk with him. It was a struggle, but on day 3 I managed to spend most of the day at the front with Paul. There was something about him that I couldn't quite explain, but I just knew that I enjoyed his company. He told me about his retirement from business, and we shared a laugh when we reached a fork in the trail and I explained the quote attributed to Yogi Berra: "When you get to a fork in the road, take it."
Day 3 had been our longest hike so far, and when we finally reached our hotel I could not have been happier. The hotel was an agriturismo, a working farm with full hotel-style accommodations. As we walked up the dusty road at the end of our 14-mile trek to reach the hotel, I couldn't help but feel excitement as I realized we would be staying among these active vineyards and olive tree fields. We were told in advance that the owner of the hotel was also the head chef, and to expect an authentic home cooked "Italian grandma" style meal for dinner.
The hotel rooms were essentially duplex cabins, where one structure was split into two fairly large suite-style rooms. Each cabin had a shared deck in front with rocking chairs. Our guide handed out keys to the group, and I quickly realized that Paul and I would have rooms 3 and 4, respectively. Anna pointed out its location and Paul bellowed "looks like they want us men out the way Alexander!"
My plan was to shower and nap before dinner as I felt filthy and exhausted. After a thorough cleaning, I closed all of the blinds and hopped into bed, fiddling around with my iPad before drifting off for an hour.
Once awake, I dressed for dinner and headed out a touch early, hoping to have a glass of wine before everyone arrived for the meal. When I stepped out, I looked to my right and saw Paul sitting in one of the rocking chairs on our shared deck. He was reading a book and wearing nothing but a pair of blue running shorts. "Oh hi Alexander," he said. "I got a little warm in there and decided to come out here and relax for a bit. Did you have a nice rest?"
"Yes," I replied with a slight crack in my voice. "Very nice, thank you."
Seeing Paul shirtless was something of a shock and I couldn't understand why. His bony chest was covered in wispy white hairs, and while he was very slim he still had what I considered the "old man belly." A wrinkly paunch below his ribs that appeared more as a gathering of excess skin than any kind of fat or extra weight.
