Benvenuto in Italia

The past six weeks have been everything but anchored. After renting an apartment for two months in Nijmegen, I stayed in New Orleans (US), Tilburg (NL), Nijmegen (NL), Toronto (CA), Deurne (NL) and Weert (NL). Although, since I didn't have a home elsewhere I guess I was “living" in those places. At one point even my mom had no clue where I was hanging out. I don’t blame her.

Once again I pack my stuff today and put it in the trunk of my car. The fact that everything I own, fits in a trunk, gives me an incredible sense of freedom. Today I’m driving to Florence, Italy to stay there for a little bit (although next week there is a quick roundtrip to New York City scheduled). It’s about a twelve hour drive, so I decided to do it in two days, to make the road trip more enjoyable. While playing my favourite playlists on Spotify and listening to some podcasts I notice I’m having mixed emotions about this journey. “Driving to Italy, how exciting!” is followed by “Why am I doing this? Why is this important to me?” Of course I know Italy is gorgeous, and I’m looking forward to mastering the language, but that isn’t my underlying “Why". I came up with multiple answers, but none of those were satisfying to me. I guess I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out. 

The closer I get to the south of Germany and the border with Austria, the more beautiful the landscape becomes. Huge mountains with snowcapped tops appear in the distance and tiny cute villages emerge in valleys. 

In the US I’ve covered quite a few miles during road trips, but never alone. It’s going pretty good so far! After passing the border with Italy, I get pulled over and the friendly officer asks me to open my trunk. I have nothing to hide, so I’m allowed to continue. The gas prices suddenly increase by 60 cents a liter and a sign welcomes me: "Benvenuto in Italia."

Just in time to see the sunset at Lake Garda, I take an exit near Bordolina. The area is gorgeous and smells like fresh roses. 

I finish my last sandwich and book a hotel for the night in Verona, a city nearby Lake Garda. Although I’m pretty tired after spending 95% of the last twelve hours in a car, I decide to explore Verona a little bit at night time, energised by some mouthwatering gelato from a shop around the corner.

Tuesday starts early as I have some walking planned through Verona, before I continue to Florence. I was impressed by Verona last night. Today I’m in for a real treat. The combination of an azure sky, birds chirping and floral scents, makes the city of Romeo and Juliet even more astonishing. Every corner I turn lends itself for a photo opportunity. Small alleys, coloured buildings with tiny balconies filled with flowers, make for both a gorgeous view and a delightful smell. At one point I stop bothering taking pictures and just enjoy the moment.

I’ve decided to cut the Italian language learning process into manageable chunks: first being able to order some drinks, then manage to order a meal in a restaurant, talk about the weather, etc. Otherwise learning a brand new language will become too overwhelming for me. I walk into a little bar and am able to order a caffe, (which is actually an espresso, but you don’t ask for an espresso as you’d be referring to the machine making the thing), pay and greet the bartender on my way out, without using any English. This is going great!

When I take a minute to rest and meditate in the church of San Bernardino, I see a woman walk into a confession room. A few minutes later a man walks in who starts to ask me questions in Italian about the whereabouts of the woman. Initially I have no clue about what he’s asking me. I cringe when I hear myself say: “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian”. Damn it Thijs, get uncomfortable!! That’s the last time I will ever say that. Later that day, I have used my more positive replacement twice: Sto imparando l’Italiano. I’m learning Italian.

After living in Manhattan for about a year I thought I was pretty good at crossing streets as a pedestrian. In Manhattan traffic lights are more like guidelines instead of rules. Here, they bring crossing the street to a whole new level: you can make your intention of trying to cross clear all you want, but if you don’t walk, they don’t stop. 

After walking for about three hours I’ve completed two walking tours and it’s time for me to finish the last few hours on this trip. I have about three hours left on my trip to Florence, where I'll be staying in the coming month. Around 3pm I arrive at the AirBnB and am welcomed by Isabella. She shows me around the AirBnB, that I have booked for the first month. It’s basically a pretty big room for myself, and a bathroom and kitchen I share with others. Perfect. The supermarket is around the corner and I have no problem finding yoghurt & granola and eggs & spinach. Covered for breakfast and lunch! 

I start to walk alongside the Arno river towards the city center. The place I’m staying at, is about a 35 minutes walk from the city centre. There is a soft summer evening breeze going on and I sit down at a table in an open-air bar to write the majority of this story. 

It’s been a smooth journey so far. What will the coming weeks and months bring? How am I going to make new friends? How can I make myself approachable? How am I making sure my Italian progresses every day? What is my game plan? Why does this Franziskaner taste so good? So many questions, but I think this is a good start to find an answer to my Why. 

As the night comes to an end I realise how beautiful life is and how fortunate I am. Here I am, sitting in this beautiful Italian spring evening, overlooking a river, drinking a beer, journaling, overhearing conversations I can make no sense of at all. Just because I made a decision to go. 

Don’t let life happen to you, create it. 

Ciao.