As I am writing this, I am sitting on the train staring at the crater-like Dolomites. The sun is peering through the silver lined clouds and illuminating the snow-capped peaks and the mid-morning steam murmuring from the summit is akin to my “tre al giorno caffé.” Coming from the Rocky Mountains, I am not completely speechless, but, nevertheless, there lies a uniqueness that each natural wonder bestows to the world. That being said, as I sit back and reminisce about each voyage via train, each landscape was quite a sundry of scenery and hence, utterly distinguishable. In Firenze, there were the rolling hills, sprinkled with the slender, delicate Cyprus trees that compose that picturesque Tuscan landscape; or, the lush Piedmont vegetation in Torino where the best chocolate (in my opinion) happens to be crafted; or, even the blend of Fascist and Modern architecture with hints of Neoclassical nodes that illuminate the city of Milan. Oh, Milano.
Yes, I bid adieu to Milan today. As cliché as this may sound, it seems like I said goodbye to my home in Denver “just yesterday.” It went by incredibly fast, too fast. All good things must eventually end, and Milan was a “good thing,” for several reasons. Perhaps I am different now. I can’t see how I would be the same after being abroad for some time. I will miss it terribly, though. Not the fashion or the extravagant indulgences, like deciding if I want this season’s limited-edition Prada bag in “celestial” blue or perhaps hold off until Gucci launches the must-have “ambrosia” evening clutch. God. I definitely wont miss that nonsense; but, that “pleasure seeking through luxurious details” exists everywhere, but Milan happens to be the Mecca where the deal is made and the decadence ensues. My Pilgrimage to Milan was not to visit every flagship store of the world’s most popular Italian luxury brands and trend set myself back to Denver with Milanese prêt-a-porter threads. Yeah right. I am a Coloradoan at heart because believe me, after one week here, I realized just how “un-fashionable” I was. Honestly, I would gladly wear my gym clothes all day and be completely content (sorry, Mom) but that is not necessarily a great quality either: comfort and haute couture via gym wear. Some things never change. After all, you cannot break into a sprint or walk the concrete jungle in a pencil skirt and stilettos, but somehow the Italians do it elegantly and poised everyday. I envy their strength and perseverance to always put fashion before ease. Because after one night in my heels, they definitely never saw the light of day again; and, I don’t think my feet talked to me for a week.
No, but, seriously, my cause was very different from the typical rationale behind living in Milan. Some might say, “why the hell would you go to Milan, why not Florence or Rome?” Good question. Or, I love this one, “Why the hell do you want to learn Italian?” Another good question that I don’t have a suitable answer to. My qualified answer is usually just “Well, because I want to.” Truly, every time I hear the language spoken it sounds like a harmonious blend of rhythm and poetry. The intonation and the stress of certain syllabi and even the stereotypical hand gestures that accompany the language emulates the art of singing, and thus, it is music to my ears… Ok, enough of the sappy rambling, but I really do think that Italian is a handsome spoken language. Back to my original point, pre-tangent, that perfectly eligible question that I hear time and time again is usually followed by something to the tune of, “I don’t know if you know this, but Italian is only spoken in Italy, so it is not that useful outside of here.” I would usually respond, puzzled and slightly smart-assed “Really?” or in Italian, “Davvero?” Why does every action need an accompanying definitive purpose before it is qualified as a worthy move? This is not a chess game, although the “life is akin to a chess game” is certainly a practical analogy—you should be completely strategic and deliberate with your moves. Every move counts. Yes, this is true. Every move does count and you need to take those calculated risks to advance to the next phase. Well, if my life is a chess game, then I will make the rules.
Rule #1: There is always a reason for everything and a purpose, even if it happens to be covert, it will eventually become known (Coming to Italy in the first place). Rule #2: Take risks and try something new as often as possible (Traveling da sola not knowing more than ciao and grazie initially & exploring the rest of the country da sola). Rule #3: Sometimes negate Rule #2 and create a routine where comfort resides that will never fall to monotony and boredom (Going to the same coffee bars everyday and meeting some great people that always made me feel at home in this foreign place). My drafted and proposed purpose for coming to Italy prior to leaving was the following: #1 I wanted to learn another language (I chose Italian) and #2 I wanted to live abroad. Quite simply, those were my reasons, but undoubtedly, the experience led to other self-discoveries that will continue to manifest as I gradually make my way back to the States. See, for me, I know that I acquired many more lessons learned than just how to say hello and goodbye in another language (I can say more than that, by the way). Now I am off to try to figure out German for a few days…Ich spreche kein Deutsch…
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