My family is from Italy, therefore I am Italian. I have always dreamed of the day I see the country my grandparents, uncle and father came from.
I arrived to Italy through Tirano, a town near the limit with Switzerland. As soon as I got off the Bernina Express I took a train to Milano. I didn’t even leave the station but Tirano is everything I expected to be. I could see my grandma everywhere. The way she does things, the way she organizes stuff in the patio, or the way she hangs clothes after washing them.
I have always been in love with Italy. It was like a platonic love, a love that I believe is within me because the roots of my family are here. I have a special bond with this country. My grandfather, who I never got to meet but who I love the most, was born here. I feel I came here to meet my grandfather. He, who is my guardian angel. He who lives in me, who I couldn’t hug in real life but is by my side at all times.
To be Italian means a lot, it is not only a nationality. It is a feeling.
I feel like I am coming back home, not visiting this country for the first time. I felt at home as soon as I put a foot in Italy. I feel I belong in here, that I’ve been here before, many years ago. Maybe even before I was born. I don’t know, I can’t explain but Italy and I are one.
I can’t hold my tears every time I enter a church and thank God for this blessing of being here. Churches here are much more than a structure to adore God, they are part of life. When you enter an Italian church you feel it is a sacred place.
I walked all of Florence for the last two days and I am not tired, I could keep walking all day. The hills and stairs I climbed these days are infinite but my heart is still hungry for more Italy.
Firenze (Florence) can be so crowded with tourists but so peaceful and magical from Piazzale Michelangelo.
I walk the streets Leonardo and Michelangelo walked… And it is easy to imagine why such sensitive beings were draw by Firenze even more than a thousand years ago…Because Firenze e Bella.
I met an American lady today and she invited me some gelato at a local hidden place in a little hidden piazza near Ponte Vecchio. This precious secret is what makes this place so special. The gelato was a party of flavors in my mouth and I am learning to love life again.
Italy is colors, flavors, sounds, chaos, beauty, passion and hysteria.
My new friend told me of how many women come to Italy after a divorce or a heartbreak, and I am starting to get it. Italy heals you. Its energy is so powerful it wakes you up to life again. You rise with it, you open your eyes and it is so magical you can only give in.
I am at home, I am healing. I am in the process of being who I really am: an Italian who loves life.