Here we are again, in this place already seen, described, told.
Yet so hard to keep out of the corridors of my mind. I walk and go away but in the end I always come back here. Often with my head, whenever I can even with my body and legs that add up gradients and kilometers, without ever really feeling tired.
This is how it feels when every part of yourself is perfectly blended into what surrounds you and nothing can scratch this feeling. Tranquility, lightness, comfort, security, intimacy. In the end, that’s home.
It often happens to invite someone at home with the desire to share, expanding our own sphere of well-being and showing the best side of ourselves. We think of the most delicious recipe, the nicest dress, the most beautiful tablecloth, where laughter, glances and tales will drive away the passage of time for a moment, marking on its inexorable line a fixed point that will survive every change.
I felt like this a few days ago and even before, when for the first time the idea of telling others about that place so dear, well known, friend, flashed clear in my mind. That place that, without fear, I can call home.
Most of all, there was the strong desire to open the doors of this place to others who could appreciate and see it exactly how I see it every time. Because if there are places and views that like load-bearing walls never change – if not sometimes in appearance – there are also and above all tales, people, stories. Those that give shape and color to everything, making everything full of life.
The fearless confidence at first in gathering the interest and the different requests of those who wanted to participate in the weekend of trek, could barely hide a feeling of frenzy and growing expectation that was developing inside me. As well as the professionalism, due and required in these situations, has not been able to completely hold back the disappointment for a unexpected cancellation, letting a veil of bitterness shine through.
Why do I want to share something that I feel strongly mine? Why then make it known to everyone or at least to several people? I asked myself this many times in the following days.
It was neither the desire to show my knowledge and skills, nor the need to find certainties by organizing an event open to more participants. None of this – and even if it was, it wouldn’t have caused no harm.
I think it was more than anything else the desire to tell about myself, open up to others, leave them something of me. A bit like when we invite people home. After all, what we want is that something about us can emerge. In the same way, through that title – “Discovering Val di Funes” – published among the scheduled events and promoted to many different people, perhaps I wanted to say: “Discovering Paolo and his history, through the Val di Funes”.
On a closer look, in fact, the Val di Funes and every glimpse of it certainly do not need me or many others like me to show itself. Its beauty is now universally recognized and what those who have known it for the longest can do is just tell something more about what is hidden here. Until when, I wonder. One day even these facts will become known; what will then be able to make an experience truly unique and different? What will truly capture the attention of those who will be there, in that same place with so many other people?
Deep down, I strongly believe that nothing but stories are what really manages to transform something that many imagine in the same way, into something that only some see differently.
This is how a particular place, a face, a name, a landscape or a specific moment of the day come to life and immediately tell something more, truly animating what surrounds us. This is how an experience becomes different every time.
Because here, in this place, life will continue to intertwine with our history, both made up of routine and unexpected, tranquility and confusion, always the same things and changes.
Just like home.