Back to Italy.

The moment I enter Italy.. I feel as if I can breathe again. A place that was home for sometime, still pulls on my heartstrings. Regardless of what goes on here. I am always excited to be back. After a session of flights, I had arrived in Milano. Upon hearing Italian, my heart was swollen..

Walking off my last flight, I felt relief to be out of the air on just moments away from being liberated from airports. One hurdle left: customs. Several flights at arrived at once, creating massive lines to get through customs. There was one line for EU/CH members which moved fast.. and another 5 lines for everyone else. Choosing a line, I succumbed to waiting in yet again.. the only problem I discovered as did many others- it didn’t seem to be moving. Looking ahead, what was stopping us..? At two desks where families from Africa.. another two lines were stopped as there were families from the Middle East. Only the last line moved.. as they were Americans mostly.. while people.

As I moved to the line which seemed to be making progress I couldn’t think about the image taken by Stieglitz at the turn of the 20th century.. people disembarking a ship. From atop where white wealthy class.. the bottom was noted as ‘sterrage’. Another photographer, Lewis Hine photographed the conditions in New York City during the height of immigration into America. He published a moving body of work: How the Other Half Live. That’s what I thought about as I moved effortlessly through the line.. the customers officer hardly blinked while stamping my passport.. yet these families, stopped because of their social and economical class.. race.

An hour later, I was in Milano. Exited the train onto the platform, I found my way through the on going station works towards a taxi. It was raining.. how I could just go to sleep..

The hotel where I find myself isn’t far from the main train station. In all the times I’ve come through Milano and stayed the night, I’ve yet to see the Duomo or the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuel II. Cleaning up and resisting sleep, I set out to finally see this famed cathedral. As the esculator brought me from underground, it was not the site of the Duomo that caught my attention but the.. crowds of people yelling and waving flags. I had no idea what I just came into them again.. you never do in Italy! The Duomo took second chair tonight as the festi (party) was at the center of everyone’s attention. Mostly young men wandered in groups yelling and singing.. waving flags and throwing bottles.. blowing hours and kisses.. I wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Honestly, I’m always a little over stimulated my first day back in Europe. In Dallas, there is little space to interact with people.. but in Europe, that’s all you do! Stopping to ask a man ‘cosa facendo?’ what’s going on? He mentioned the league, Inter Milan soccer team. Ahh. I should of known. The Euro Cup begins in a few weeks as well.. and it’s Sunday. They always play on Sundays.

But the most memorable moment of the evening was watching the waxing full moon rise over the Duomo.. those are the moments when everyone at once seems to be silenced around you and you tell yourself ‘remember this moment..’.

Finding a little pizzeria to take cover from the drunken Italian men (I was grossly out numbers AND alone..) I sent in to enjoy some real Italian food ☺ My first night back in a city, I always treat myself to a nicer meal.. taking my time and savoring the wonderful meal. I can’t do this while guiding as kids eat so fast and are ready to go on to the next thing! Lucky for me, I had six different Italian men waiting on me. At first, they went to speak english.. but only after I refused to break from Italian did they so speak with me. Oh what events lay ahead these next few months, too soon will I find out!