I don't know who is in control here, but it certainly isn't me....

Some people believe that they have guardian angels watching over them.  I believe something like that, but maybe the opposite.  If I have a guardian angel, I suppose he has my best interests at heart (evidence: I am still alive), but sometimes I question his methods.  Because there are moments occasionally when I start to think that I have everything in life figured out, that I have it all down. On days like this, I stroll confidently around, knowing that I am that girl, the one who has everything under control.

And it is in moments like these that I inevitably feel my foot falling into a crack in the cobblestones as I'm walking along and I know that I am powerless to prevent what is about to happen.  And I fall down.  On my face.  In the middle of the street.  In front of dozens of people.

Humility is certainly something that the world could use a bit more of and at moments, it certainly feels like there is someone out there making sure that I have my fair share. (That thing about falling on my face, that's not a metaphor, by the way.)

But I admit that sometimes these not-so-subtle reminders are needed.  Because occasionally I decide, in my own mind, for whatever reason, that I personally run the world.  I see rain in the forecast and (ever the optimist) I decide that it will not rain today. I decide to travel to a new town, which I have never visited before because, despite all indications to the contrary, it is going to be beautiful today.  Being something of an over-confident traveler, I also decide on this particular day that I instinctively know how to arrive to the city center from the train station and that I do not need to ask for directions.  (Anyone who knows me well or has ever traveled with me knows that there is absolutely ZERO precedent in my life to indicate that I instinctively know the way anywhere.  Not ever.  Not one single time.)

And that is how I somehow end up wandering a deserted street of trulli in Alberobello, by myself, in the pouring rain.  My shoes are wet, my rain coat has completely soaked through and I am surrounded by this charming, miraculous beauty which I have all to myself.  It would be absolutely magical--if I weren't so incredibly miserable.

Uhm...hello....is anybody there?  Anybody?

So I duck under the porch on someone's delightful little holiday house, as the rain pours sideways, soaking me even more and I ask myself, what sane person would do this?

And the universe answers back to me, only a completely insane person would find themselves in this situation.

So I take a moment to evaluate my own actions over the past twenty-four years that have led me up to this exact time and place and suddenly everything becomes clear.  Yes, completely insane, that sounds about right.

And at a moment like this, all I can do is laugh: at this place, at this rain and mostly at myself.

Laugh and promise myself an extra glass of wine at lunch (if I ever find lunch).

And pray that someone will sell me dry trullo-themed socks.

And remind myself that humility is certainly something the world could use a bit more of.

In the end, it did turn out to be a beautiful day.  So maybe I was right after all?

Alberobello and I parted on good, if soggy, terms.