When the news came that my mother was hospitalized for a heart attack, I was in Peru on a hiking trip. That evening, before I could board the plane to Italy, I was informed that she had passed away. Sadness and the feeling of not being there for my mother when she needed me most broke all excuses I'd made up to stay away trying to make it as a "travel writer". There wasn't much I could do to stop that urge to denounce myself.
My mother Tundra stayed in her northern Italian world most of her life, where I always stood out as a freak and the one doing worthless silly things. But my stories from distant places aroused her curiosity and brought her comfort. To her, I was a courageous adventurer, and her words towards my achievements which are insignificant now pushed me forward on that unconventional path.
After handling my mother's affairs in Italy, I decided to leave for Penang Island, one of the most visited places in Penang, Malaysia. With all the international travel I'd done, in truth I'd always treated it more like a stop for necessary and urgent breaks, rather than a proper destination. Yet then, I missed its atmosphere that made me feel at home somehow.
Returning there, I reconnected with backwoods by going on hikes. It was hard to put my feelings into words, but the rainforest held something uniquely comforting. This experience was similar to stepping into an ancient, purer world that made one consider human nature and problems. Besides, the sound of strange insects was almost like a language, whispering to me that I should let go of the past, and only focus on current life. Like an oil leak, that suffering fell out of me and into every footprint left. 18 months passing, I look back on the time spent in the natural world and timeless environment, knowing I've pulled through.
