Italy

The clock on the Flixbus said 1:30 A.M. in huge, ruby-red letters. By then, I had been traveling through Europe for almost a month, and last-minute bus travel had become my ally. 3 € teas had become my entrance ticket to coffee shops as my co-working spaces.

I had just visited one of my close friends in Stuttgart, Germany, for his gorgeous, intimate wedding, where- by the way- I had witnessed not just a ceremony, but a love so grand it felt it didn’t fit inside the church. I also didn’t understand much, but when the prayers came around I knew by heart what they were saying; in German and Spanish, the intention was the same.

At said wedding, I had dropped my last penny in the jar: I had closed the romances of yesterday and past promises we couldn’t keep. I delivered letters and looked into the stunning eyes of someone who had once been so familiar, a place to shelter, now a vacant home. Needless to say, morale was at an all-time low.

Though I had felt rejection wash over me, there was a tiny voice in my head telling me to keep going. “Not all is lost”, it said, “We’re still out here, aren’t we?”. Traveling has always been my therapy. The boy moved on from the girl? It’s okay- let’s take a plane, a bus, a train… let’s keep moving.

And from Stuttgart, I found a bus that went to Milan for 40 €. Even better, another connecting bus for only 5 € to Verona. I had dreamed for a long time of going to Italy, however, there was no one waiting for me there, I didn’t have great financial health to afford to live there for more than a few days, and it’d have to be a very, very quick trip. But yes, I am that girl- I’ll take my chances if I can just glimpse at this wonderful country.

My friend’s mom lovingly dropped me off at the bus station, with food, wine, and a chocolate bar under a shivering night. I was so embarrassed but also so comforted by her presence, so far away from everything, missing my own mother so strongly, I could only hug Kirsten as strongly as she hugged me.

It was a long, stiff, but warm (thank God) overnight bus from Stuttgart to Milan. As I mentioned before, I was used to them at this point. I didn’t mind if I could choose adventure over comfort, and 10 minutes before 6 a.m., I arrived in Milan.

WOW. How stylish the people were and what a different “world” this was! Still in Europe, I was mesmerized by how close the countries are and how vast the culture is from border to border. I switched from German to Italian, of course, for starters and the sun shily came out during the day.

I stayed in a Starbucks during the day to work, and I couldn’t help but be so distracted by the continuous passersby. They were so good-looking I couldn’t concentrate on any campaigns, much less on KPIs. I drank my tea slowly and took it all in.

I ended my work day and walked through the Piazza del Duomo, Duomo di Milano, and the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. It was a bit chilly then, I had little food in my stomach but nothing damped my mood- I was in the fashion capital of the world and it all felt like floating on cloud 9.

I took advantage of the daylight hours as much as I could and by night, I took another overnight bus. I wasn’t thinking, really, I only wanted to keep going and keep seeing, that “sacrificing” the comfort of a bed seemed like a small price to pay for seeing part of Europe in the time I had. Also… I knew the hassle of the big cities, and I was ready to sit, even if just a little bit, in a quieter place.

We drove past the road signs that read “Rome”- all roads lead to Rome?- and my excitement grew further. Verona, the other city of love. Something called me there and it may or might not have been Shakespare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. It might have also been the idea of love. As you know, I had not had luck in that department, still, I so believed in love and falling in love, that as soon as I stepped off the bus, it was as if those “failed” stories were long behind me.

I took a deep breath. It was late October and the ochre leaves gave way to late Autumn. People were walking by, in a much slower fashion than in Milan. It was sunny and warm, the sun rays giving an even more romantic tint to the low bridges and castles atop hills. Everything just felt alright.

*Ochre leaves giving way to Autumn. 📍Verona, Italy*

I took my time around the small, cobbled streets; its picturesque walls and balconies shouting for a story to take place. There were fresh fruits and vegetables in the morning market, the sellers speaking soft Italian, inviting me in. I peeked at the handcrafts and the vintage items that belonged to someone else long ago. I walked in full bliss, there was nothing but that moment, the smells of fresh food, and the sounds of pigeons flying past the fountains.

I had an Airbnb with a lovely woman from Brazil and I finally had my rest. I plopped into the bed, the first bed in three nights, charged my devices, set my computer properly, and finally, on a desk (I had even worked from a McDonald’s one morning). I took my meetings and worked easily (not on difficulty level 100) and at last, took a nice, long shower.

After work, I took a walk and ended up in the cutest, most idyllic town square. I had pizza and wine, took my book out (a gift from Jules), and eventually shut the book to listen to the people around me. My Spanish gave me some context on the Italian conversations but mostly I paid attention to their gestures, their faces, and their laughter.

Cobbled streets verona italy — *soft Italian*

As I slowly chewed my pizza, the MOST DELICIOUS PIZZA EVER, it dawned on me that I did believe in love, not just romantic, but love in all its forms- the friendships around me, the young couples hand in hand, the kids with their Dad playing games, the women holding their baby close. The love for this lifestyle that brought me here, even on my lowest days. Self-love for listening to the tiny voice, self-love for temporarily leaving the people I love the most so I could chase big dreams.

The reverie that helped everything turn an even lovelier color, the realization that there’s more, much more than the eye can see. My thoughts quieted and I was engulfed in that scene, that moment. A high from life.

Eventually, I had to come down from my cloud of feathers, pay my bill, and walk home. I had a voice memo from one of my best friends, Rachel, who was living in Brazil at the time. I tried to explain what it felt like then and there, and she empathized and understood so well. She’s traveled all over the world I think 😉

The next day I made it to Juliet’s house, stood on her balcony, wrote her a letter, and lost myself in the Verona Arena afterward, thinking of a different time. There were fashionable shops lining the cobbled streets, more pizza, more wine and I made a pit stop to have some pasta. I couldn’t miss the chance to have authentic, Italian cuisine and not once did it disappoint; it exceeded my already high expectations.

Some gelato, many kilometers later, and an episode of getting lost with no phone- relying on my sense of location to get me home- I fell asleep to a long night. The next morning I had to say goodbye to this place I enjoyed so so much, its history, museums, literacy importance, and kind people. With a heavy heart, I thought my silent goodbyes as the plane took off, and I closed my eyes in gratitude.

Verona Italy Juliet's house Shakespeare — *Goodbye Italy (for now) 🌸*

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Poland