Trespassing in Northern Italy

When the villa from Call Me By Your Name invited me to town.

Still from Call Me By Your Name (2017).

With a ticket tucked in my pocket, and a freshly baked croissant still warm in my hand, I stepped onto the train at Milano Centrale. The station was quieter than usual. Many residents were out of town and shops were closed. Yet, to my delight, the railcar to Crema screeched down the tracks to meet me. It was August 15th, 2018 and I had completely forgotten today was Ferragosto—an Italian public holiday. My plan for this balmy Wednesday was to venture through the countryside and try my luck at catching a glimpse of the prescient Villa Albergoni.

starting to struggle. I had moved away from home for a job and was feeling the loneliness weigh on my heart. With my 30th birthday right around the corner, I needed to shake things up, and was willing to take a leap of faith to make it happen. I imagined the start of my thirties looking so much different. The family, the house, the success—you know, the dream we’re all sold. But there I was, google searching “what movie should I watch”, alone on a Friday night. I landed on a recently released film titled Call Me By Your Name (CMBYN). If only I had known how much a story could alter a person’s path—I may have put more thought into my selection.

Within minutes of the opening scenes, there was no turning back. I was in love with the nostalgia of Italy in the 80s and this was the most alive I had felt in years. Needing to follow this feeling, I knew I would have to quit my job and spend the summer in Italy. Allow all the colours, textures, and generational collections of objects to convince me I’m not actually a minimalist. Fill my afternoons with visits to art galleries and let ‘grazie mille’ roll off my tongue as if I’ve been saying it my whole life. Once this idea was in my head, I couldn’t shake it. I secretly purchased myself a one-way ticket to Rome and all the other pieces seemed to fall into place. Giving notice to the company I was working with, and informing my close friends and family, I boxed up my items for storage and started the next decade of my life with a new sense of purpose. Come July, I was ordering gelato in Rome.

aboard the one-hour train to Crema, and

Elizabeth Gilbert

’s voice popped into my head: “The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all,
and then stands back to see if we can find them.” Whether you count the physical villa or the person I was longing to become, it’s safe to say I was on a treasure hunt.

My main mission was to find the 16th century private estate that inspired this whole trip to begin with. The Villa Albergoni—a 15,000 square foot summer home that was currently unoccupied and on the market for €1.7 million. I had figured out a piece of what my life was missing: large grandiose doors, obnoxiously high ceilings covered in hand painted frescos, and rooms so vast they almost feel wasteful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tour the interior, but some part of me still needed to soak in the wonder of this property in person. Even if that meant standing on the street and viewing from afar—it was a calling I could not ignore.

Arriving in Crema, I walked from the station to a hole in the wall where I was scheduled to rent a bike. The guy at the counter told me about how he started this business renting bikes to fans of Call Me By Your Name. Apparently, people were travelling from all over the world just for a chance to experience feelings they discovered while watching the same movie that brought me here. We had a lovely chat and he marked off a bunch of places on my map where I could see more filming locations (the lake they swim in, cafes they sit at, etc.). I wasn’t even offered a helmet to go with my bike rental, or a lock for that matter. The whole experience was old school and innocent, and I loved every bit of it. If you’ve been to Crema, or seen the movie/read the book, you know it’s charming and timeless. A portal back to the lazy summer of 1983.

Orienting myself, I put on sunscreen, and loaded up the CMBYN soundtrack for the journey (it’s amazing btw). I then set out for a 15km cycle through the country—riding in the middle of the road with fields on either side and not a car in sight. I felt like I was 10 years old, on summer vacation, and free as a bird. I laughed, cried, and sang at the top of my lungs. I felt so proud of myself for following this unknown calling, doing something way outside my comfort zone, and finding my heart fuller than I had ever imagined.

Approaching the residence, I realized I may not have fully thought this through. A ten-foot-tall stone wall, that wasn’t about to let me see anything inside, stood surrounding the five-acre property I had travelled halfway across the world to see. Walking my bike around a good portion of the perimeter, hoping for a gate to glimpse through, I was starting to feel a little silly. Not about to be defeated, I needed a new plan—and maybe some water. Walking back to what looked like a corner store (which was surprisingly open), I tried to buy a drink and see about using a washroom. I ended up with a chocolate bar and after some angry sounding Italian with several hand gestures that I didn’t understand, the woman pointed to a door that I hoped would lead me to a toilet. Turns out it was a hole in the ground with two foot pads on either side—a squat toilet. That’s when I knew I had really made it to rural Italy.

I noticed a construction site on the property next to the villa. Walking over to check things out, I expected a bunch of local workers, but nobody was around—right, it was a holiday. This might just work out in my favour after all…

Peeking around a little, I noticed that the far side of the construction site was up against a portion of the wall that wasn’t viewable from the street. And it had a gate—that was propped open! I mean, how could I not walk through that gate? It’s almost as if it were left like that on purpose, awaiting my arrival. Looking around one last time for witnessing eyes, I decided to take my chance. Maybe there was a reason I randomly chose this balmy Ferragosto.

Leaving my bike, sans lock, I carefully walked through the construction site to the opening in the stone wall. The gateway put me right onto the grass where the Perlmans played volleyball in the film—it was like walking through a dream. Entering the private grounds that the wall kept so well hidden, I was speechless. There’s no way I would risk something like this today, but in that moment I felt fearless. Exactly where I needed to be, I walked right up to the front door and touched the intricately carved wood. Walking around the side of the house, I found the infamous brunch table. The same white iron chairs lined the wall, waiting for Mafalda to set them up and serve fresh apricot juice. If only for that moment, everything in my life seemed to make sense. Like the struggles I had been facing were meant to bring me here. Even though I stood alone, it felt like I was a part of something bigger. Like a collaborative effort between multiple creatives that brought me to this moment. A book written by André Aciman turned into a film by Luca Guadagnino. Images on my laptop inspired a quest to find myself in an empty villa somewhere in northern Italy. I guess that’s the thing about art, it speaks to us without words and understands us without judgement.

Thanking the villa for welcoming me so graciously, I went to find my bike. Besides stopping at the secret swimming spot to cool down, the return to town was quiet and contemplative. Waiting for the train, I continued to sit with the day while polishing off a plate of pasta, a glass of wine, and another gelato.

That night, back at my Airbnb in Milan, I wrote pages and pages of thoughts and feelings. Travel is such a life changing experience and solo travel—for better or worse—turns up all the dials. Something had been unlocked in me that I couldn’t quite put to words. I guess I found one of the hidden gems Elizabeth Gilbert talks about. It might be one of the only gems in my personal collection, but it still shines bright enough to light the sky.

Each year on Ferragosto, I am reminded of the surprising and synchronistic ways of the world. How listening to my intuition, staying open to possibility, and looking for hidden gates can awaken, nourish, inspire, and nudge me in the right direction. It reminds me of who I really am. For the record, I’m not suggesting you trespass in a foreign country (or even your own country for that matter). I was very lucky in this situation. But when the time is right, I hope you’ll take a leap, and trust yourself to find the way.

Ciao ciao,

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Footnotes:

Thank you so much for being here and letting me share my stories.

I will feature the interior of this villa on an upcoming Living Rooms post. It is amazing and definitely worthy of an article!

xx