What I noticed in Trieste, that I used to notice in my therapy room.
My suitcase holds oil pastels, sketch books and watercolour brushes like others carry skincare, chargers and clothing. There are art supplies that I could very easily have chosen not to pack, but the thought of “I might need…” and “they could come in handy if…” was too strong for my self control.
Many I have yet to use, colours that haven’t seen the daylight yet from someone who used to spread out and have a clinical space for all colours to be explored.
I trained as an art therapist in a clinical setting before leaving Melbourne for the world.
Moving to be in the same time zone (or as close to) as my partner, a touring live sound audio engineer.
The training hasn’t left just because I am no longer in the clinical space, in fact it has moved with me and shifted to ‘real world’ observations. In the clinical room, I would focus on the clients’ movements, words said, patterns, colours, images drawn.
Now I notice similar moments, but along streets; which ones are performing for tourists and which ones didn’t bother?
Where the pace or the small moments give it away, such as the women who bring their friend a coffee and sit together at her book stall, or the nonno who owns the small grocery shop and is looking after his neighbour’s child for a moment.
This is a case for slower travel that usually doesn’t make the list.
Where you can start to read a place, like you might read a person. Most trips move too fast for this to happen, much like a person, you can capture a passing ‘vibe’, but won’t be able to grasp an in depth story.
Four to five days in one neighbourhood though, means the lady at the corner shop starts to recognise you, the neighbour gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, and long enough to find the cafe with the wifi, that isn’t too busy and has you ordering with the same barista that sparks up a chat. Now it’s feeling less like sightseeing, and more like the first few sessions with a new client, where you’re not gathering facts as much as you’re noticing rhythm.
Grasping a sense of the whole picture, not just the highlights.
So now, as I sit in the side alley cafe on Via Dante Alighieri, sipping an espresso and doodling on my receipt with a blue ball point pen that I carry (instead of said oil pastels).
I realise maybe next time I’ll pack the unused colours, but for now, it’s just the noticing.