I came. I saw. I lived.
Reflections from My Time in Italy As I write this memento on my trip back to the States, I don’t leave Italy with any regrets because I lived. No, I didn’t visit every small town on the weekends or travel to Brussels or Geneva for fun, but I can say I became integrated into the local thread of Bologna. I entered Italy knowing zero Italian to speaking Italian every day with my italiana roommate. And I could understand between 60 to 70 percent depending on the context and accent. I had an Italian boyfriend and became exposed to the culture of love. We visited the palazzi , danced in the streets and drank classic red wine in Eataly and local bars on Saturday nights. There is no better life than the one the Italians live. Yes, it was hard adjusting to European culture those first two months. I didn’t know the language, I had to commute via cycling (which was frightening among the taxis, motorinos , and other cyclists), and I broke my foot. And let’s not even mention the devast