Random Ramblings: Entry 21807 "Finding Bramasole"

02/18/2007

 

I. Cannot. Believe it.

Too many times have I seen the film (shame, I haven’t read the book), and for the nth time yet, it still draws me into tears. Almost every single element in the story reflects my very life…

In the film “Under the Tuscan Sun,” Diane Lane plays Francesca, a writer. In her midlife. Has reviewed and attended to several books by other people, but never had the time to finally ink her own. She’s quite known in the writing circle, surrounded by great friends…And just when she thinks she’s got everything, Love betrays her. In the face. A dreadful truth she unraveled not by herself. Her seemingly complete life, then, falls apart…She lost her home, her husband, her spirit, her Self…She retreats. And much as she’s reluctant to come out of her shell, she has to rebuild her four walls.

Patty, her best friend (portrayed by none other than the magnificent Sandra Oh), offers Francesca a trip to Tuscany; one which the latter accepted, reluctantly however. This journey opened a new door for her – the doors of Bramasole. An old ancestral, worn down villa quietly sitting atop the hills of Tuscany, Francesca was drawn to it. Several “signs” brought her to its gates, eventually convincing her to buy it from a superstitious sweet old Italian woman. Amidst the appallingly peeling wallpaint, cracked ceiling, and its dust-ridden dark corners, she felt there was no point in going back to where she once was. She chose to start over, in this strange, shabby shelter that she now has to embrace as home.

Her first visitor in the tattered house was a night of turbulence, which she, on her own, survived humbly…And proverbially, just as the sun shines after the storm, the wheel turns…Her fate changes.

There’s a line uttered in the film that struck me with much impact: “…a house for a life I don’t even have…” It is just as empty as I feel at the moment, trying to resuscitate my being with plans and hopes – wishes if you may say so – endeavors, of which I’m not even certain of ever seeing manifestations. But I am hopeful. There is no other way to go on but to keep on trying, to never give up. It will take time to recover. But I will…

Familiar Characters

Patty reminds of my deepest friends – my cousin Yohan, my brother Allan, the women of “The Coven” – some of whom I’ve already lost touch with (which I highly feel terrible about). Althroughout my life, these are the people who know me inside-out. We have shared each other’s joys and tears (and a great number of bottles of spirits, cups of coffee, and packs of cigarettes). And each time I come running to them in my times of weakness, they would always try to pull me out of my abyss – in more ways than one. Unconditionally. And in return, I stand right by them in their times of tears, all ears… They have all moved on. And here I am still, all these years. In very same abyss that I have allowed to swallow me whole; it had taken me away from them…all the more myself.

I find it funny – strange perhaps – that some of the characters are even named exactly as those whom I have encountered in my own journey. Pawel (pronounced Pavew: Paul in English), the Polish young man who was part of the Polish team who helped Francesca renovate her Bramasole: I met this musician named as such, Polish as well, at the Rainforest World Music Festival in Sarawak, Malaysia. He’s the bassist of this Celtic band from Poland. No, he wasn’t as young as the Pavew in the story. But we became friends, close enough to share our lifestories in that short span of time. He has a kid as well, he’s not married but is in a relationship just as I. When the festival ended, we parted as friends and remain friends up to this time.

Ah, and then there was this Italian man that Francesca bumped into at the city during a stroll (if you’ve seen the movie, you know the name)…I have my own version of that, but he’s not Italian – he’s French-Ecuadorian. Same name. Same swift romance: the coincidental meeting, the intriguing attraction, the kiss at the beach… Fleeting as the sea breeze did he come into my life; fleeting as the very same sea breeze did he go. Oh well…We could not be together even if we try. And as in the movie, “these things must come naturally.” Another musician, by the way. A bassist as well. (But he has now ventured into dub…God, what is it with bassists? No, what is it with musicians and me?!)

Other characters are reflections of how I think and feel…

The glamorous Catherine – the exact embodiment of my greatest fear. Always the woman of grandeur that she is, she hides beneath her fabulous façade. She has gotten used to being left behind by her (many, I suppose) paramours; her world she lives under a veil of her lavish fantasies. “Never lose your childish enthusiasm,” she says while comforting herself, with childlike charm, by means of a cone of ice cream (exactly how I comfort myself). She lives in the theater of her mind. And when all the lights go down, when the applause fades behind the closing curtain, the truth remains – she is still alone. A harsh reality she cures with a bottle of champagne through the night; to wake up once again for another performance.  My greatest fear: getting old alone and to have to bear with it…At least she does it fabulously. I dread to even think of how I’d go about it, or for that time to even arrive.

“What is it about love that makes us so stupid?” Francesca remarks, pointing out to the old man who brings flowers to the nearby altar every single day…I see this man everywhere everyday. In fact, this man is the first I see at the beginning of each of my days, staring right back at me in the mirror as I wash off the tears that have dried upon my cheeks from crying myself to sleep in the night. Indeed, it pains us to see ourselves having a hard time letting go…But bear in mind that it does take time to heal. We need to go through the process…properly. And soon  enough, we shall awake one day in genuine willingness to finally move on.

Parting, Departing…Arriving

And in the process, indeed, there will be times when memories – both good and bad – come to knock on our doors yet again. Like opening boxes of our old things delivered late and in the most unexpected times, it takes us back to such times we either cherish or would fervently want to wipe out of our heads. Most of the time, we will be caught off guard by them. All the same, do not fear these moments. These memories. Joyous or otherwise, we must learn to accept all that has passed. Only then can we truly move on.

I realize that I have been brooding too much that I have been remiss in appreciating what I am already blessed with. I have a family that loves me dearly, forever there to stand by me amidst every single trial, never ceasing to have faith in all my sacrifices. My ever dearest friends who’ve always believed in me, but whom I have neglected for years; all the same they remain present in spirit with me…I shall make it up to them indeed. And ever most importantly, the one and only man who will never ever leave me, most certain as gravity…my beloved son whom I love so deeply, the one greatest thing that ever happened to me, the biggest inspiration in my life, my stronghold…My angel, my moon. 

My beloved ones, I am ever so grateful that they stand by me even in the most tumultuous times. They have always been there, they are there still, with me. They are the four corners of my life. With all their love, I shall be able to rebuild my once tattered life, brick by brick, a day at a time…

Soon enough, my book will be bound…And my Bramasole, found.

7:10pm

Feb 18, 2007