Should it be this easy?

It’s a funny feeling when you land in a foreign country, especially when you have never lived in one before.

All my trips on a plane have been for ‘pleasure’, according to some kind of tourist board categorisation; for holidays lasting no longer than a few days in the sun. But this time it’s different. This time i’ve landed and I wont be returning home for 10 weeks!

In all honesty it hasn’t really sunk in yet. I landed yesterday and the familiarity was instant. I’ve been to Bologna before; twice in the last 12 months, and I fell head over heels in love with this wonderful city. Its culture, its history and obviously its food (!) it was my moment of realisation that I could feel totally at home somewhere, instantly, despite no family or friends being around and having no real idea how the day-to-day life operates.

Despite being clueless, I felt comfortable immediately. That was October 2016, and I couldn’t stay away!

I came back in March with my mother, in the hope that I could get her to understand this place and see why I was so besotted. She got it, and that’s when we spotted the language school; that’s when life took an unexpected turn.

Over a lunchtime bottle of wine (when the best decisions are made) we looked into the school. I could afford it; I had savings… why the hell not go for it?

For most normal people, that’s where the dream ends, as a dream. Not me! I’d reached a plateau. I felt grey and middle-aged at 24. Waking up in the same town I grew up in, working the 9-5 (a la Dolly Parton) and while I was surrounded by family, a boyfriend that loved me and amazing friends with whom I could spend mind-expanding evenings chatting about everything and nothing, I couldn’t help but feel like I was trapped. I needed to get out.

So here I am, just over 7 months later and with a much larger suitcase.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’ve been spending months trying to perfect this mindfulness lark, appreciating the little things and practicing gratitude, but it wasn’t working. I needed to expand my horizons and change my outlook and the only way to do that is with a complete change of scenery. 

Back to yesterday, as soon as the plane landed it felt like I hadn’t been away. My suitcase was one of the first off the conveyer belt, I was the last one allowed on the first bus to town and I arrived to a lovely Air BnB host who helped me with my bag and made me an espresso (God, that Italian coffee, how I’ve missed it!).

Sitting in Piazza Santo Stefano with a glass of white wine as the heat of the day died down, I was just sat there thinking, “should it be this easy?” shouldn’t I have lost my suitcase, had my passport stolen and been fleeced for €50 by now?

Well, the glass of wine cost my €7 so I won’t be going there again, but even so, stood listening to a (frankly awesome) street band called The Trouble Notes  (<< listen to them, there were playing this song when I found them) I was smiling like a loon while looking up at the medieval church they were playing in the shadow of with that feeling of “i’ve made it”.

Going to a Trattoria I’d been to before for a quick dinner, I sat next to a lovely couple from York. They had driven to Bologna, via France and Switzerland, taking four weeks out to explore, golf and see Europe (before it all potentially gets a little harder). They had the right idea.

Chatting to them, I realised I knew quite a bit about this city that I’ve decided to place my roots in for two and a half months, it calmed me right down and gave me the bit of reassurance I needed. (Gill, Alec; if you’re reading this – thank you!)

But back at the Air BnB, for an early night, I couldn’t sleep and I cried for the first time.

Bit of a side note at this point: I want this blog to be brutally honest, there is no point in putting on a rose-coloured tint. I’m not a good enough writer to lie or fictionalise circumstances. This is more for me to look back on and to let my mum know I’m alive than to entertain. But if you are entertained – WooHoo! 

Anyway, yes, I cried. It all suddenly dawned on me that this was not a 5-day city break; I was here for 67 days! I was going to live here. It wouldn’t be art tours, lazy glasses of wine and shopping trips everyday. I was going to be learning a language (and I am s**t at languages), buying supermarket own brand body wash and, ultimately, I will be doing this on my own.

Tutta sola.

The tears were a mixture of fear, a bit of relief but probably mostly due to the fact that I’d had three hours sleep the night before and I was knackered!

To end on a high note, I did wake up this morning and head to my favouite café. Just sitting with a brioche and espresso; planning the art tour I wanted to do, where to go for that lazy glass of wine today and pondering a new pair of shoes, thinking to myself…

 “Should it be this easy?”

 x