the final week of Italy

"What is the feeling when you’re driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

- Jack Kerouac

I haven't made any kind of countdown for leaving Italy. Countdowns are for things you don't like. I've somehow stopped myself from doing that horrible thing where you can't stop talking/thinking about how this is your "last" something. This is my last run in the fortezza. This is my last Sunday afternoon on the terrace. This is my last Monday morning cafe at Key Largo. I didn't even like writing those examples right there.


This is good and bad. It's good because, for the most part, I've stayed a little more sane because of it. But it's bad because I somehow lost track of time again and now it's Monday night and I leave Italy on Friday. On top of that, it's bad because I hit these moments where I think ok, what [paper/project] to do next .. and then I suddenly realize that I really have nothing left to do besides packing and the farewell dinner and saying goodbyes, and then I almost start hyperventilating.


It's hard to leave Siena. I want to stay forever but I know that I can't. And it's not even that I know I can't because of logical reasons (e.g. I'm a student. I have to finish college. I would live too far away from family).  It's that I know as beautiful and wonderful as Italy is, I could never live here permanently. Siena has been the most perfect town for these nine months of my life, but it wouldn't be perfect for forever. Italy will never fit perfectly with me. Gender equality here is about 20 years slower than the rest of the world and I would say even a little behind that for foreign women. And sometimes, I miss standing in a straight line. Sometimes I don't feel like having to push my way forward to the counter to buy something. And maybe it would be nice to have a public transportation system that doesn't strike every other week and still show up half an hour late on a good week.

But even knowing all of that, I don't want to leave. I feel like I'm breaking up with someone. I hate to fall too deep into this cliched analogy - but I'm going to anyway. I really feel exactly like I'm breaking up with someone who I realize I could never marry and I'm going have to leave eventually, but I still don't want to leave. I'm happy though, because I wouldn't be this sad if my experience here hadn't been so great. Italy has changed my life and inspired me, and I'm happy I came here. But I'm still going to be sad for a couple days.


It's weird watching everything wind down like this. Right now I'm just trying to stay optimistic and look forward to my next great adventures: a week in Budapest, a little over a month wwoofing in Portugal, then home.

my last day teaching English - 5th grade