“Not all those who wander are lost.” 

       So what happens after you spent a year living your EAT. PLAY. LOVE for real and still yearn for the cobblestones, history and cultural after 7 months of being home?  Easy, you go back.  And with good reason...My first month in Europe had been a whirlwind, going from 0 to 60 in 3.25 seconds.  

       First stop, my home away from home, Firenze.  Making my way through the airport to catch the Leonardo Express to Roma Termini was like, me roaming SFO and catching BART.  Memorized like the back of my hand.  I can't really express the excitement running thru me because I know what waits for me at the end of my two hour train ride.  The 15 minute walk from Santa Maria Novella to the Via Guelfa house is surreal....and fucking hot.  What is on my agenda for my first night back home?  Aperitivo, duh.  As we sit curbside of Kitsch, drinking my spritz, I can't help but feel normal.  I don't need a map or a translator...no, not this time around.  Because this time around, I know this city...the familiar faces, the old watering holes, the restaurants and some of my favorite people take residence here.  I made it back...just like I said I would.  But as much as I love and missed this specific place, my time here is to find, explore and travel...solo.  So, ciao ciao Firenze...

  Just three days after my arrival in Italy, I leave Firenze and start one of my many train rides out of SMN. Where to?  Jesolo.  I love this little town...so quaint and not packed with tourists.  I love my adopted Italian family that I stay with when I go there.  The whole reason why I came back in the first place.  I love that Ilenia is my link from SF to Italy and we managed to stay close even when we haven't lived in the same country for 2 years.  I love her little bun in the oven, even though I hadn't met her yet.  I love how, with her round belly and bikini, we stayed on the beach in and out of cat naps for a whole entire day.  This my friends, was the calm before the storm.

  After 4 days in Jesolo, I got back on the train and headed to Milano.  In between, I stop over in Verona for lunch and to wander the streets a bit.  Verona breaths romance...which is actually quite depressing when you are alone.  But being a single girl traveling solo doesn't leave you lonely for long...especially in Italy.  My train ride to Milano should have been an inclination of what the rest of my trip was going to be like.  I don't even make it to my seat before the train ticketing guy hits on me and we exchange numbers, smh. When in Rome, do as the Romans do...right?  Now, Milano is a whole different beast on its own.  Wider streets, taller buildings, people in suits *swoon*, and high heeled everything.  And damn everyone is beautiful here.  The men, the women..even the kids stunt.  Night life here is so much different than in Firenze and definitely Jesolo.  I got a real taste for it on what was supposed to be my last night there. 

  It all started with an early aperitivo...but you know how it goes.  As soon as you get a couple under your belt..you can basically say bye bye to an early night.  3 bars and 3 beers later, we find ourselves sitting next to a young couple who look like they couldn't be a day over 15.  The young lady orders a shot of tequila, Jose Cuervo is top shelf in this bar, and takes it like a champ.  No chase, no lime and no salt.  Heaven forbid us being shown up by a girl half our age.  So Antonio asks that one question that changes your entire night...."do you wanna take a shot?"  And boy did we.  Before even meeting up with other friends for drinks, I am nice and toasty.  Good luck with being drunk and trying to speak Italian, let alone understand it. lol.  The night continues that way that it started...more shots and more beers and more bars.  At some point, I think we were club before we decided to head back to a friends apartment and make pasta at 4am...not to mention the additional shots that the boys took.  I had to sit that one out...this girl has a limit.  And Sambuca is it.  I paid for it big time the next day.  I laid in that apartment and died for about 14 hours before trying to take the train back to Firenze...which of course, I miss.  So one extra night in the fashion capital would have to do.  Gosh, I wish I can tell the uncut version of this story because it is actually a really fun story...but there are just too many people involved.

   So after my first week back, I wander.  I wander, sometimes, aimlessly, up and down streets that I know, ones that I don't, with and without people walking beside me.  I am old and new at the same time.  A student and a teacher.  Familiar and curious.  But what I am NOT.... is lost.  No, my dear, I am definitely not lost.  Definitely not in the same streets that I found myself in.  Found my strength.  Found my second soul.  Found companionship in my loneliness.  and found my limits.  Which turns out....I don't have any.