One Month In

4 weeks ago, I arrived in Milano. I was tired after 24 hours of flights and layovers, of toting my massive Vera Bradley duffle on my shoulder, of waiting for and planning this semester. But I arrived. 4. Weeks. Ago. 

One month of Italy- of family, of food, of linguistic immersion. I threw myself right in the mouth of the wolf (in bocca al lupo) and I let Milano happen. 

In one month, I have become friends with students from all over the nation and beyond- a Bolivian and a Colombian are in my Italian class, as is an Irish national. I hang out daily with students that have never been to Texas, and still laugh when I toss them a "ciao, y'all" as a greeting. We wrestle with the language, we eat paninos after class, sip on capuccinos with no worries whatsoever. 

It is cold in Milano, but not unbearable. It has been rainy in Milano, but I live. It is bustling and loud and wild and crazy in Milano, and I am invigorated. Sometimes when I reach the daylight after a twenty minute metro ride, and the sounds of the city rise around me in a swirling tornado of music and honking and "Ciao" and "Pronto," my eyes jet around me attempting to soak it all in. My mind pulses with one powerful thought- this ain't small town Texas. Rather, this is something much, much wilder, despite all of the concrete and petrol and cigarette smoke.

In the past month, I have gone on a emotional rollercoaster ride. I have questioned my control of the Italian language, I have missed my friends at home dearly. I have been laughed at by my Italian family for not being able to peel fruit. I have gotten really, really, really, really, really lost. 

But I have also found my way. One month in, and I am making good on my goals. I am speaking more Italian than English. I am traipsing through gallery after gallery. I am learning to not plan out every second of every day. 

So, to summarize- Italy is great. I am alive. The best is yet to come.