Where to even begin?
I cannot believe it’s already been one week since I’ve arrived in Lake Como, Italy. Although it feels like I got here just yesterday, it simultaneously feels like I’ve been here for a lot longer. I don’t know what causes one to feel both of those opposite scenarios at once, but if you’ve ever felt that way before, you know what I’m talking about.
Let me back up for just one second— before I dive into the meaty parts of my current reality— I want to get one thing out in the open:
I do not plan on using my blog as a “diary” or “itinerary” for my travels in Italy (and wherever else I go to in Europe). If you’re looking for restaurant recommendations, local places to visit, fun things to do on a day-to-day basis, you’ve come to the wrong blog. Naturally, some of those elements will appear in my posts, but that will not be the sole focus of anything I write. If you’ve been a loyal reader of mine in the past, I think you could have guessed that, but if you’re a newbie tuning in, I want to make it very clear that I’m not your gal for that kind of content.
So now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, let’s get into the good stuff.
~
When I flew into Milan on Friday, April 1st, my mom and family friend picked me up at the airport (they arrived one week before me), and we drove straight to Lake Como, which was about an hour and a half car ride away. Mind you, I was semi-delirious because I didn’t really sleep on my 8.5 hour flight from New York City to Milan, but I didn’t feel overwhelmed or even really excited that I was in Italy when I landed. It just felt like the continuation of my life. No glitch in the system, no misstep in the programming… just an ordinary day that I was meant to live out.
I have said this before with some of my travels, but I especially felt it when I lived out in Utah for six months. On my way to the airport on the day I left home to move to Salt Lake City, I was sitting in the passenger seat in my dad’s car, thinking, “I’m about to move across the country,” and the gravity of that sentence never hit me. Not when I got to Boston Logan Airport, not when I landed in SLC, not the next morning when I spent hours shopping for furniture at IKEA, not when my sister flew back home and left me by myself in my new apartment. It never washed over me like a tidal wave. It always felt “normal”.
Which, knowing me and my extensive need to analyze the human psyche, I wanted to know how such a big occurrence and event could cause such little ripples in my mentality.
“Why are you not reacting to this?!”
“Don’t you understand this is a BIG deal?!”
I would try to rationalize my lack of, “holy shit-ness”, but for the longest time, I didn't understand how I could be so nonchalant about my big adventures. I questioned whether I was being grateful enough, but ultimately, I came to the conclusion that gratitude is not the problem. Gratitude is engrained into my being at this point as it is something I naturally feel on a daily basis after years of consistent practice.
It was only a few days ago, when I didn’t react to landing in Milan, that I pieced it all together.
Every moment of our lives happen for a reason. Each and every day we live, all the experiences we go through (good and bad), every person we meet, all the places we go, are paved on our path before we even get there. So, it dawned on me, that when I don’t react to the big moments in my life, it’s because my soul knew they were coming long before I myself did.
We can all agree that surprises warrant shocked emotions, but carved out, molded experiences? They’re not surprises. They are always patiently waiting for you to walk into them.
So in short, I was never not going to be here. No matter how you slice it and dice it, I was always meant to temporarily live in Italy, which is why when I landed, it felt normal that I was beginning this journey.
~
When I finally arrived in Lake Como, I settled into the condo I’ll be staying in and got acquainted with the little town I’m now temporarily apart of. I feel that I can’t adequately describe the beauty of this place, so instead, I’ve inserted some pictures for you to see for yourself. All I'll say before you take a peek is, it is, quite literally, breathtaking here.
If you don’t know, I came here for lots of reasons. I came to switch up the routine I was caught up in, be immersed in a different culture, get inspired to write from new depths, eat delicious food, meet new people, push my limits, and just live my damn life. There wasn’t “one” specific reason why I came. Some friends and family have asked what I’m doing with my time abroad, and I don’t really have a great answer for anyone. “To be, to be, to be,” is about the best way I can sum it up, and if that makes no sense to you, then no part of my journey likely will.
Nonetheless, I’m here, and I’m “being”. Except, one thing I’ve quickly learned is I want to be a lot more like the Italians.
When I tell you that the people I’ve meet in a week have been nicer, more welcoming, and more thoughtful than I ever thought possible in a seven-day span, I truly, truly mean it.
I have been offered a “however long you’d like to stay” in Murano, an island off the coast of Venice, by the sweetest, loveliest couple.
I have been greeted with open arms (more like two kisses on the cheek) from people who don’t speak a lick of English and don’t know me at all. I have been told, “You call me if you need anything, and I won’t just walk, I’ll run.”
I have been soothed with, “If you’re ever lonely, you can walk over to our condo whenever you’d like,” by the friendly neighbors.
I have been reassured with, “I take care of my daughters, and I’ll take care of you to,” by the father of friends I just made.
I have been invited to the south of Italy for Easter by a family I met on the first day I met them.
Before coming here, I kept thinking about this trip as a “solo” adventure. The thought of being alone is both gratifying and nerve-racking all in the same breath, so I welcomed the challenge and journey for all of its glory. Yet, one week into my stay, and I can’t possibly believe there was a time I thought I’d be alone. There are far too many people in my vicinity and in my little circle, even at the beginning of this adventure, to think I’d ever be alone.
I am grateful beyond belief for the warm welcomes I have already been given, and I truly can’t stress enough how much it means to know that people have my back while I’m doing my “solo” thing out here. It is relieving to know that I am in good hands.
But, traveling is not all rainbows and sunshine, and in my case, traveling has proven to be a mental and physical test every time I’ve ventured out somewhere. It is never a smooth sail for me, which, ironically, is why I love it.
On April 7th, I was eating dinner at a neighbor’s condo when I realized how badly my seasonal allergies were. Since the day I arrived, my allergies have acted up, but the days prior to April 7th, I only really had your usual sneezing, itchy eyes, itchy throat kind of symptoms. There were moments when it was a little tough for me to breathe, here and there, but it was nothing serious.
Until, I was at dinner, and I realized that just talking was making me winded. So, I came back to my condo (thankfully my mom and family friend were still here with me), and I tried to calm my symptoms. I took allergy medication, put Vicks Vapor Rub on my chest and back, tried to clear my airways by standing in a scalding hot shower, tried to relax and slow down my heart rate, but nothing helped. I literally gasped for each breath I took. It was painful, it was scary, and it reminded me of the time I had my first allergic reaction to an apple— an allergy that I now have an EpiPen for.
I didn’t sleep that night until 5AM, and looking back, I probably should have gone to the ED. I can deal with itchy eyes, a runny nose, sneezing one hundred times in a row, but I cannot (and should not) play around with constricting lungs. There is truly no scarier thought than, “Will this be my last breath before I have to call an ambulance?”
The next morning, after very little sleep and still a ton of trouble breathing, the father of the friends I just made, called his family practitioner, made me an appointment, and insisted on coming with me to the doctors to make sure I knew I would be taken care of. I was seen a few hours later, given meds that would help reduce the inflammation in my lungs and help me breathe better, and I was also given an “in case of an emergency” prescription.
I also didn’t pay a penny.
Thankfully, because of everyone’s efforts, I’m breathing with ease now.
This all goes to say that several people went out of their way to make sure I was okay, and better yet, make sure I know I am going to be okay in the future if anything else happens. That feeling of security and safety— it’s priceless. There’s nothing more settling than knowing people are watching out for you.
So, when I say that the people I’ve meet in a week have been nicer, more welcoming, and more thoughtful than I ever thought possible in a seven-day span, I am not exaggerating.
~
This trip may have just begun, but so many more thoughts have already surfaced. I know my adventure is a personal one, but the lessons I learn and everything I encounter will never just be for me. I live to write about the journeys I navigate through and help anyone shape the perspective they have on their own life. I might be in Italy, you might be in Japan, she might be in Australia, and he might be in Argentina; we all live these individual experiences, but the beauty of life is coming together and learning from one another. We underestimate how much we need and also want each other’s company, guidance, and presence, and I don't plan to be apart of the under-estimators.
I’m so excited to see where this journey goes, and I'm equally excited to share what I can with you, but for now, I’m enjoying each day just as it is. Being here, with myself, for what it is, and for where I am.
What more could you ask for?
Comments