The day before this photo was taken, Tom and I followed a dodgy sat nav into the depths of Tuscany looking for a so-called ‘famous’ line of cypress trees much like this one, only instead of a famous line of cypress trees as promised by Google and an Italian guidebook from 1997, we ended up in a very unfamous car park, our fiat 500’s engine roaring unhappily from the hideous hills we’d climbed to get there.
I’d be lying if I said we took it with the kind of adventurous grace you’d expect from a couple of millennial travellers. The only thing greater than our anger towards each other was the irony that we’d actually really and truly followed a sat nav into a deserted car park. We were those people.
I say we, but it was definitely my fault for putting the wrong address into the sat nav. Also — cypress trees stood literally everywhere — including down the road from our Airbnb — so there was really no need for us to drive an hour and a half to find a ‘famous’ line of cypress trees, even if the 1997 guidebook said they were a, ‘sight not to be missed’ and my FOMO was giving me the heebie jeebies.
Tom drove us away from the imaginary cypress trees in what can only be described as a murderous rage, which is funny because in Greek mythology, Cyparissus, a boy beloved by Apollo, accidentally kills his favourite companion, a tamed stag, and is turned into a cypress tree by the gods because as it turns out— the cypress tree is a classical symbol of grief. I don’t know how close Tom was to murdering his favourite companion AKA me, but at least there was poetry in his rage!
You know, the more I get to know others, the more I realize how many of us share similar insecurities. In case you haven’t heard it today, you are Worthy of so much! ✨💕