Ciao, Ciao, Ciao
May be a travelog
Last month, I finally went to the Bologna Children’s Book Fair (BCBF23) in person! It was the first time in a long time for almost everything to me, and my mind could only feel excitement mixed with extra ecstasy and worries. Luckily, as soon as I arrived at the fair, most of my anxiety quieted down.
I spent most of my time attending programs and visiting booths in detail. People are gathering everywhere, exchanging ideas, making friends, and drawing. Being in the building for an hour was enough for me to have a split second of questioning whether or not everything was really happening. I guess it was because I have been looking forward to this even before I was confident enough to call myself an illustrator. Isn’t it strange to feel so accepted and so excluded at the same time?
Anyway, Bologna was wonderful. The enthusiastic feeling and celebratory vibe had found their way to the center of the city as well. Museums and bookstores are co-hosting exhibitions to showcase many incredible artists and their artworks. Also, I finally got to meet my agent Freddie! Also also, I met the artists from the same agency and artists I follow on Instagram.
Here are a few publishers and bookstores that I learned about through the book fair and was soon in awe of the projects they made and the collections they had:
I know it’s only the tip of the iceberg in the sea of the publishing industry, but I do hope that you would have a good time reading if you decided to check them out.
I’m already expecting my next time around!
Before the book fair, I had spent a few days in Milano mainly catching up with one of my dearest friends, wandering around in the city with my film cameras, and hopping from one tourist attraction to another with my family.
During the trip, I was constantly sensing myself feeling big emotions. There was this familiar freshness and hope-like mood that swung in and out, intrusive self-judgments popped up, the mixture of meanings and nothingness that I couldn’t figure out why the timing, and an endless amount of FOMO that I didn’t want to admit as much because I tried very hard to restrict my natural habit of spending time on wondering what-ifs already.
People seemed free in Italy, tourists, mostly; that’s the feeling I couldn’t feel when the expectations from my parents about this trip were sitting at the back of my head, literally. In my mind, I was hoping this trip could be something nice to do with them, but it turned out to be something that I had to do for them. Pretty ironic for someone who constantly tries to avoid repeating generational trauma. I was just someone to order around because I am biologically related. I wish I could say it was a nice experience to travel oversea with my family but it’s a tricky word to apply from my perspective and it would be a lie. Although I think I will try to hold on to a couple of good moments.
If you are still reading, I wanted you to know that I really appreciated the time and energy you spend on this may-be-travelog, because there won’t be any information about gelato stores or fried artichokes.
How do you be present during a trip when you know there were expectations waiting to be satisfied from people who can only express what they despise and can get extremely upset when they don’t have their ends meet?
It was cloudy most of the time when we were in Florence. My memories of the city were about the butter-like yellow colors and where they were painted on. By the way, just in case you’re wondering what camera I used for film, it’s RETO Ultra Wide & Slim and Diana F+.
River and water often make me ruminate on the concept of home. This trip marked the longest time I separated from my cat, Sen. I got homesick when I saw people with their pets in Italy. And yes, my home is wherever my cat is. I adopted her in the summer of 2019, and I named her after the main character in Spirited Away.
Toward the end of the trip, I cried twice. I saw what I missed in life and it hurts to realize that’s not something you can work hard to have. The first one happened on the train heading to Roma, and the second was before bed when my family was taking turns using the shower after we arrived. Alone, of course. I removed myself away all the time so there would be no chance for my family to judge me in front of me.
Is there anything more capable of generating the urge of wanting to alienate us from ourselves than feeling the discomfort from what’s reflecting back when our current experiences echo our past? Especially the ones you decided to push down deep because you know too well that you are emotionally attached to them too much and there was nothing you can do about it…
Roma was out last stop. I remember thinking about the anger I felt at 16 years old when I was buying train tickets at Florence train station. I was in senior high and by knowing that there was zero chance that I could go to Europe to find myself or chase my dreams when some of my classmates just couldn’t help but be excited about the fact that they were going on a journey for months. The rage was collected and concealed. I still remember I wanted to be happy for them but I couldn’t, and I felt guilty and ashamed about not being able to do that. It’s like I was back in the classroom again but this time I became the one that I couldn’t be happy for. I can feel happy but I can’t be happy. Does that make any sense at all?
All I wanted for this trip was to see familiar faces and be surrounded by people who have the same passion for making art as long as possible, and I did. But I couldn't stay happy when I know that it is only going to be a wish for the feeling of safe and welcoming warmth to be with me forever.
Well…I know in some sense they are forever; like every second could be forever.
I love that the word Ciao can be used to say hello and goodbye. It was like this trip. And I like it more when I heard people say it three times in a roll or when they drag it very long. I would imagine they are expressing their desire of wanting to meet the person on the other side of the phone or saying I miss you already.
Seeing centuries-old buildings every day was hard for me to not get sentimental. Death was so close and I wasn’t done living. However, I want this writing ends with joy. So, here’s a little embarrassing/ funny trivia on my first day in Bologna:
I accidentally locked myself out at the Airbnb without my phone and got saved by the kindest old lady who lives across the hall and the help she called. It happened so fast that I only allow myself to panic for a second and I dived into problem-solving mode right away. However, I don’t speak Italian and the lady doesn’t speak English. But as soon as I point to the keyhole on the door, she knew, and she gestured for me to wait inside her apartment while she was calling the numbers on the sheet that hangs in the hallway. Before the help came, the lady borrowed me a sweater and made me an espresso, and I couldn’t thank her enough.
Eventually, the help came. I thought it was going to be a locksmith but it was four firefighters. After a short conversation with the old lady, one of the firefighters took out the tool to unlock the door. And just within a few seconds, the door opened, nothing breaks. I went inside to take the keys out to insure that I won’t forget them again.
Grazie - the one word I repeatedly said to the old lady and the firefighters during the entire situation and before they left. The gratitude lingered for the days I was in the city.
Whatever did or did not happen during this trip, I’m grateful for all of it.
“Such is the life of an adventurer.” — Hilda
As always, I hope you are doing well.
Thank you for reading this extremely long newsletter. Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!
Love,
Angel
P.S. I got this super cute gift from my friend Pot Pot Pottery. It’s the best! 🧡 Make sure you check it out.
Alright, I think that’s all. Ciao, ciao, ciao!