Arrivederci. Goodbye.

I know that so many have been waiting for the story of my crazy journey home. It is hard to believe that it has been one year already- but that day is still fresh in my mind, and some days it literally feels like it was yesterday.

Perhaps I put off writing the final blog post out of denial; denial that the 4 greatest months of my life had come to an end. Perhaps it was because I was going through reverse culture shock; trying to remember to think and speak in English, trying to ease my way back into eating the processed foods of the U.S., or trying to wrap my head around how there could be aspects of American culture that I no longer understood. Or perhaps it was because life simply became too busy; catching up with friends and family, working, and getting ready for my final semester of school. I believe that it was a combination of all three. There are so many changes that occur as a result of returning home, and if your journey was as whirlwind as mine, it can be a tad overwhelming to process. But alas, just like every great journey, the ending will come, and its story must be told.

My final day in Italy was nothing short of perfect. It was an absolutely beautiful day, which made the chaos of the day completely bearable. There were so many things that I had still wanted to do before I left. Places I wanted to explore, food I wanted to indulge on, and mementos I wanted to buy. I set off in the morning, with my list in hand, and a goal to get as many things accomplished as I could. While I did not manage to explore or revisit my favorite places, or eat all that I wanted, I did manage to pick up a few of the mementos I wanted that would be a reminder of Florence, I bought a suitcase (because I had accumulated more stuff than I arrived with) and still managed to stop for one last Panini at my favorite place, Paninopoli.

I got my picture taken with the people who had made all of my wonderful panini for the last 4 months!

The final panini.

My final walks through Florence.

Most days in Italy, time often seemed to stand still- partially due to the culture of taking things slow and enjoying every moment, but on my last day the afternoon went much too fast. Before long I had to head back to my house to get ready. We had our farewell dinner scheduled for that evening with my group, and I had to freshen up and change from my day of running around the city. Upon returning home I set my suitcase down in my room to get ready, to which Stella came into my room and laid down on my suitcase. I took it as a sign that she did not want me to pack. Fortunately for her I wasn’t going to- at least not yet.

I quickly got ready, and was back out the door. 

Before heading into the city, I was meeting up with my cousins that lived down the street from me, to say goodbye one last time. I was so happy to be able to see them again before I left. In just a few short months I had gotten to know them and meet up with them several times. We talked about how I was feeling that I was leaving in the morning, my plans for the future (hopefully coming back soon) and what my schedule was for the trip home. After saying our goodbyes- or rather, see you soon- I hopped on the bus and rode into the city. Once I got off the bus at my usual spot I slowly walked to my school where I was meeting up with my group for our farewell dinner. I did not want to be late, but I ended up being early instead. I was happy to have a little extra time, to sit outside and enjoy the piazza where I had enjoyed so many beautiful days eating a panini and enjoying the glorious Tuscan sun. I even had enough time to make final phone calls to my other cousins that I had visited over spring break. I thanked them again for the wonderful trip and their hospitality. Before calling I was nervous, but I was quite pleased that I was able to carry on a phone conversation, completely in Italian, with no dictionary at my disposal!

The piazza where my school is located. 

Finally our group was all together and we went around the corner to a little restaurant where we would have dinner. The food was delicious, and a wonderful finish to my time in Italy. It was nice having our whole group together to reminisce about all of our memories. 

My last supper!

After our dinner, we headed back to the front of our school, to take a final group picture together and say our goodbyes.

Our group (minus one)

 Some people were headed off to other countries for a few weeks, some were staying in Italy, and a few of us were headed back to the U.S. in the morning.

I had finished my goodbyes and started walking away from the group. I didn’t get too far before I started to cry. It was crazy to think that my time in Italy was almost over, and that some of the people I spent almost every day with for the last 4 months, I would never see again. On my walk to my bus stop, I stopped for my final gelato. I got my favorite flavor, bacio (hazelnut and chocolate). I enjoyed every last bite, scraping the cup down to ensure none of it would be wasted.

 As I ate my final gelato I walked slowly back to my bus stop, through the streets that had become my home. I took in the sites of the stores along the river, and the feel of the cobblestone under my boots. I had such a mix of emotions. I was so happy, that I had finally done it- I lived in Italy, but I was in disbelief that it was coming to an end.

As I stood at my bus stop I looked across the Arno River at the city, illuminated under the streetlights, thinking of all the memories I had made. Then my bus finally arrived, and on my ride back home, something pretty incredible happened. If you remember, on my first night in Florence I had a pretty traumatic experience on the bus. I got lost on my way home the first night, and didn’t know which bus stop to get off at. I knew Italian, but wasn’t as confident enough yet to ask anyone for directions, which resulted in me running up and down the street looking for the correct cross street that my house was on. Then, on my final night in Florence, and my very last bus ride, a couple was looking at their map and the stop names, trying to figure out which stop they should get off at to get to their hotel. I could over hear them talking, so I went over to them and gave them directions. I truly had put the perfect bookend on my journey. After the couple got off at their stop, I rode the rest of the way to my stop, staring out the window, realizing that very fact. Remembering the fear and anxiety I had the first night, and comparing it to the confidence and calmness I felt now. It was a chilling experience.

Just like my trip in Italy had to come to an end, so too did my final bus ride. I walked down the street to my house and headed to my room to pack. It was around 9 pm, and I had not even started yet. It took me a couple hours to sort through all of the things that I had accumulated and to pack things in the most efficient manner. I had a lot of stuff to bring back, including one entire bag full of books, and quite a few breakables. Somehow I managed to pull it off, but unfortunately I had no room left in my suitcase for Stella. Around 12:30 I finished packing up my stuff, but I didn’t really feel like sleeping, especially because I knew I would need to readjust to the time change, so I stayed up for a couple hours and watched some TV on my computer. Finally I began to become tired, so I took a nap for about 3 hours.

All packed.

Finally the morning had come and I was up around 5:30 to get ready and pack up the last of my belongings. I quietly got ready and had my breakfast, although my stomach was in such knots that I was barely hungry. I waited in the kitchen, with my bags at the door, for Barbara to take me to the airport. As I waited I gave some final cuddles to Megan and Stella. There were definitely some tears as I said my final goodbye to them.

My last photo with Stella.

Around 6:30 we left for the airport; Barbara, myself, and Megan. We managed to get my luggage into the airport and found the right desk to check in at. (Here is where things start to get a little crazy.) I thought that my flight left Florence at 7:50, only to arrive at the airport at 7:00 to find out that it was scheduled for 7:10. Normally, this might not be a complete problem, considering it is a small airport, and you don’t have that far to go to get through security and get to your gate, except that I had extra luggage- which I had to pay for. For some reason, you are not able to pay for your extra luggage at the desk where you check in; you have to go to another window that was around a corner to pay there. So I had to get my flight info from the Airline desk, take it to the other desk to give to them so that they could determine the pricing for my extra suitcase, then I had to pay for the extra suitcase (good thing Barbara was with me, because some of that Italian I did not understand!) then I had to go back to the airline desk and give them my receipt for my luggage, at which point they finally gave me my boarding pass and took my luggage. Task one: complete.

At this point I was definitely in a panic, thinking that I was going to miss my flight to Paris from Florence. (But honestly, maybe that wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world!) I had such an adrenaline rush and was rushing to the security check-point with all of the bags that I still had with me, when I finally realized I had to say goodbye to Barbara. We both were worried that I would miss my flight, so we said our goodbyes somewhat quickly, gave each other an enormous hug and I was off to security. Upon getting to security I got stuck behind someone who was not at all prepared. They kept setting off the metal detector and had to repeatedly go back and forth through. I was really about to lose it. It took all my will power not to yell and freak out, because I really did not want to end up being arrested by the Italian police. Finally the person in front of me was finished and it was my turn. I made it through security, ran through the tunnel and down the stairs to the gate level and found my gate. Much to my relief there was still a line of passengers at the gate door! I got in line, set my bags down at my feet and waited in line.

Finally it hit me. I had a few moments to stop, realize I wasn’t going to miss my plane, and acknowledge the fact that this was it. It was for real. I just said goodbye to Barbara, who was the absolute best host mother I could have ever asked for. I was about to get on a plane and leave my favorite place in the entire world. I started crying. Right then and there. In line. At my gate. In the middle of the airport. I was getting a lot of stares from all the Italians around me, but I couldn’t help it. I cried all the way through the line, to the little shuttle that takes us on the tarmac to the airplane, and continued until I got into my seat. It was a constant flow of tears that I just couldn’t stop.

Thankfully, my flight to Paris was uneventful, and went pretty quick. It was a 2 hour flight and when I landed I had about an hour and a half to wait in Paris before my flight to the U.S. The Paris airport was amazing. It was chic and very modern. I wouldn’t have minded if I had to stay there all day! Perhaps I jinxed myself, because that almost happened. It was finally time to board for my flight to Atlanta from Paris. I got in line, waited, and finally got up to the desk at the gate door. The attendant took my ticket, scanned it, when all of a sudden the red light and error beeping noises start going off. The woman tried it a few more times, typed some things into her computer, when finally she made a phone call. Now, normally this might not seem so scary. Except that I was in Paris, my next flight was boarding, and I no longer remember any French from middle school so I have absolutely no idea what this woman is saying. All I know is that the alarm bells went off! The woman hangs up the phone, and tells me to wait one moment. She receives a phone call back, and then tells me to step off into the holding cell. Now if you have ever seen the movie the Terminal, where they have all of the foreigners penned off in a little rope square, you’d have a pretty good idea of what I looked like at that moment, and you might have a pretty good idea of what was running through my head. (Again, getting stuck in Paris is probably not the worst place to be in the world, especially considering my old roommate lives there.) So I’m standing in the holding pen as all these other people are walking past me and boarding the plane. I have every possible scenario going through my head, when finally the woman gets a call back, takes my ticket, scans it, I get the green light, and I get to go! Just like that. I have no idea what the issue was, but luckily it all worked out- and it gave my heart a little work out too!

The flight from Paris to Atlanta was long, and due to the time change, I really needed to stay awake. I spent almost the entire flight watching movies which had come out back in the U.S. Now typically, airplane food is not that great, but I would just like to set the record straight. If you are ever on a French airline, the food is great!

Finally, I arrived in Atlanta, back on American soil. It was pretty strange hearing English as the predominant language. I retrieved my bags, went through customs, and then re-checked my luggage with success and no delays! After I checked my bags for my last flight back to Milwaukee, I made my way over to the terminal for my flight. I had a couple hours to kill, so once I got to the terminal, I switched my U.S. phone back on and sent some texts to friends and family letting them know I had made it safely. By this point I was pretty hungry again, so like any smart person who has hours to kill in an airport, I went to a bar! Seeing this was the first time I had been in the U.S. since I turned 21 I had to buy a drink to celebrate. I ordered a cheeseburger (because, America, obviously) and a long island. The burger was pretty amazing, but unfortunately I DIDN’T get carded!! I was pretty disappointed to be honest. The first time I needed to be carded and I wasn’t. Oh well! After eating my first American meal, I went over to my gate and pulled out my computer to work on a few blog posts from the last few days.

While waiting for my flight, I ended up talking to a few people that were waiting as well. Surprisingly we were sitting next to each other on the plane, and it came up that I was just getting back from living in Italy.  I had mentioned that my sister and her friend were picking me up at the airport, and that they told me that I wouldn't be able to miss them! For this reason I was a little worried. I had no idea what kind of scene they were going to make.

After a pretty quick flight I arrived back in Milwaukee. Upon entering the airport, I was greeted with an extremely large welcome home sign, and one ecstatic sister!

Reunited at the airport!

 Unfortunately my parents were not able to meet me at the airport, due to a work function, however they told my sister to bring me to their event so they could see me. So after waiting for my bags, we drove home, and stopped at the hotel where the event was being held. Some speeches were being given when we arrived, so I did not go in, but I positioned myself outside the door at an angle so that my parents could see me. I am pretty sure my dad saw me first, and got my mom’s attention, pointing that I was in the hallway. The minute my mom saw me her entire face lit up. I am pretty sure that this moment can only be compared to when she first saw me at birth. She very quickly got up from her seat and headed in my direction. This is when the water works began. Both my parents were very emotional, but my mom got to me first and gave me one of the biggest hugs of my life! It was so tight I could hardly breathe, but it was a great feeling to be back with my family again.

After almost 24 hours, 3 flights, and 3 countries, I was finally home.

The next few days were kind of a blur, catching up with everyone and celebrating my birthday since I had been gone for it. 

My awesome birthday cake! It's David!

With all my experience eating them, I have become quite the panini maker.

The gigantic welcome home sign my sister had for me at the airport.

There definitely was an adjustment period. My brain still wanted to think in Italian and the jet lag was expected. However, it was the cultural differences that were really hard to adjust to. There were days in Italy where I would walk miles to get anywhere I needed to that day, but back in the U.S. I would hop in my car to go to the store which is only a mile away. The pace of life is different, which can result in not having enough time enjoy life. I mean really enjoy it. When was the last time you felt pure joy? I would like to think that I've been fully adjusted for a while now, but not a day goes by where I don’t wish I was back in Italy. Some days it is scary how strong the urge is to pack a bag and quick hop on a flight.  Even now I will wake up from the most vivid dream of Florence, and be confused as to where I am, expecting to be back in my room in Italy with Stella waiting outside my door, and breakfast ready on the kitchen table. I am positive that I will go back someday; hopefully sooner rather than later. For now, I find small ways to fill that spot in my heart where Florence is. I’ll watch a movie in Italian, go to the Italian bakery and buy a cannoli, or make a really great dish of pasta. For the most part that works, but re-reading through my posts has the best effect. All the sounds, sights, and smells come right back, like they never left. One day I suppose it won’t work as well, but when that time comes I’ll pack my bags and hop on that plane. So for that reason, my journey to the motherland is not completely over, it is simply

to be continued…..