Ecco La Fine

I’m writing this from Malpensa airport, watching the last of the sun rise as I wait for my plane to board. It always makes me sad that airports are so uniform; I wish my last moments in Milan could be a bit more visually stimulating.

Leaving Milan, I can’t help but remember my last day in Florence. I had my last pizza at Il Pizzaiuolo, our favorite pizza spot, and had my last gelato (da tre euro, invece di uno e sessanta) at Vivoli. My departing flight from Florence was very early in the morning, so I chose not to sleep and instead spent my last night roaming the city with my friends, stealing one last glance at the Duomo and the Piazza Signoria before heading home, teary eyed, to pack.

I frequented some of my favorite spots yesterday as well, but not with the same gusto as I did in Florence. Of course, I haven’t had enough time nor the social life to establish regular spots. Instead I headed to my favorite bakery to grab some olive bread for the flight home, and sat outside, reading and people watching, taking in my last bit of la vita milanese. At night, I grabbed a last aperitivo with le ragazze di Smith, and then meandered home down Via Pagano. I can’t help but realize that seasonally, it’s the worst time to leave. After a perpetually grey winter, the spring in Milan is in full bloom. The city is alive and bustling. I milanesi are back out for the evening passeggiata. And walking home, surrounded by greenery and palazzi, I decided that Milano is definitely a beautiful city.

Both in Florence and Milan, I filled my last day with the experience that best represented my life in each place. But there’s definitely a difference in how I feel. I didn’t return to Florence during these three months, and it wasn’t because I didn’t have the opportunity. I love Florence, but it will forever be defined by my year abroad. I don’t know how I’d feel going back to Il Pizzaiuolo and Vivoli without my friends, or even walking down Via Ghibellina and approaching Piazza Santa Croce without the intention of meeting my friends on the steps of the chiesa. But I could return to Milan, and definitely will in the future. I like that my experience was mine, and mine alone. It was lonely and difficult at times, but absolutely worthwhile. And everything I learned, I learned because I discovered it myself. How often will I get to do that?

So now I am Brooklyn bound, where the other half of my heart awaits. I leave a bit of myself behind each time I leave Italy, and that’s why I have to keep coming back. The same is true for New York. It’s difficult to manage a dichotomy so defined by distance, but I’m hoping to ease the process by maintaining this blog (spoiler alert: it will probably be dominated by pictures of food). Summer awaits, as does the rest of life, and hopefully other adventures. I refuse to say Addio, which in Italian is “farewell”, and has a more permanent resonance. So I’ll settle for the classic ciao ciao! – and definitely ci vediamo.