The Hands of Time

Reflections on my first year in Italy

A year ago today, my husband and I landed at Milan Malpensa Airport and began creating our new lives in Italy. A trip around the sun goes quickly at my age, with my sense of time growing ever more distorted.

When we arrived last October, Milan was experiencing unseasonably warm and sunny weather, as we have been again the last month or so. But my walk with our dog this morning was—at last!—comfortably cool, only 14°C (57°F). It was as if summer had beat a hasty retreat after finally realizing it had overstayed its welcome. We passed by men hard at work in the park near our apartment, cutting down the past-its-prime vegetation in the foreground of this photo, preparing the field for a fallow season.

Reaching today means we’ve survived our year of “firsts” here in Italy: our first cycle through all four seasons (which I enjoyed far more than I expected, after 17 years in California). Our first birthdays and first wedding anniversary abroad. The first of each American holiday abroad, and the first of each Italian holiday as a resident. Our first doctor and dentist appointments. Even the end of our first contracts, as my gym membership is about to renew for another year, unless I make the switch to the new palestra down the street that just opened 10 days ago.

It’s a relief to look back and realize that things we were so nervous about before the move—whether our shipped crate would arrive safely after traversing the Atlantic, whether Google Voice would actually work here for our US numbers on our Italian mobile plans, whether our dog Bibi would adjust well to city life and to travel by train, etc.—largely turned out to be non-issues. And just this weekend, my husband got the very welcome news that, 15 months after his surgery, he remains cancer free!

There are so many things we love about living in Milan. It’s not perfect, of course, but it’s pretty great. It has a vibrant arts and cultural scene; last night we went to a free concert by singer-songwriter Mattia Faes in the basement of a youth hostel. We love the many parks, both for people and for dogs. We love our car-free lifestyle; Milan has a very good bike-share program and transit system, and it’s even possible to ride public transit to a farm where I’ve taken horseback riding lessons.

We L-O-V-E the train system; train travel is definitely the best travel! We’ve been by train this year to all but one of the major lakes of northern Italy, as well as to Florence, Venice, Turin, Assisi, Bergamo, Perugia, and many small towns I’d never heard of. We also love the ease of travel around Europe and have enjoyed trips to London and Lisbon to visit close friends, as well as to Paris (also by train) and Warsaw to visit Andrew’s family.

Life here continues to surprise me. Two weeks ago, I was hiking on a trail in the mountains around Domodossola and a chestnut fell from a tree onto the path right in front of me. I was glad the spikes didn’t hit my bald head!

Last Friday, we took a day trip to Genoa to see a photography exhibition. While walking around the city afterward, we heard a squawking and I looked up to see this beauty playing hide-and-seek.

This morning, while walking in the Giardini Indro Montanelli, I spotted this strange fruit(?). Things here are never boring.

Of course, life still has its challenges. I’m in the midst of an ongoing transition after finishing my master’s program last month. It feels, somehow, like I have both too much to do and too little; too many options, yet also too few. About 30% of the time I feel quite optimistic about my future, about 40% I feel a bit blah, and the remaining 30% I feel rather anxious and unmoored, uncertain of which way to turn. Such is life. I have to believe things will sort themselves out in the weeks and months to come.

The world at large feels in many ways like it is unraveling, with two wars of global significance, and continued political extremism in the U.S. and many other countries. Still, I cling to signs of hope. As I write this, it appears that yesterday’s election in Poland will likely result in the hard-right, increasingly kleptocratic ruling party losing their majority in parliament after eight years in power. During this time, they’ve smashed norms; rammed through alarming changes that have eroded many of the checks-and-balances in the country’s system of government; fomented hatred of the country’s LGBTQ+ community; further curtailed women’s rights; produced and distributed deceptive and aggressive state television propaganda; and become embroiled in a cash-for-visas scandal. While the election results are not yet official, such an outcome would be incredibly encouraging, especially to all those on the ground who have been protesting and organizing so diligently. My husband’s father lives in Warsaw, and he has other family and friends there, so we’ll be watching closely as the votes continue to be counted.

In a time with so much heartache and outrage, I’m reminded of a friend from California who wrote a few months back about how disheartening and discouraging the world felt. “I don't want my son to grow up without hope for his country, but man is it hard to sustain and keep up pretenses that he and his peers have a good shot at making things better.”

But then she said something that I’ve taken to heart: “I've gone super hardcore local these days—focusing on my little neighborhood. I'm buoyed by the community we've surrounded ourselves with here, which is so specially tolerant of difference. It really comes through in how I see my son treat his peers.”

As I head into whatever is next for me, I’m planning to take my friend’s approach by focusing on the things I can control and investing in my own little community—whether here in Milan or spread around the globe. I can’t change the world, but I can improve it by caring for those I love and working for the kind of world I believe in. (And so can you!)

At 51, I am immensely grateful for the years I’ve had. I feel in many ways that I’m just getting started, and I hope I have decades of life yet to live. But if I don’t, I have no complaints, only gratitude that I’ve made it this far. What a gift to be alive.

For now, I’m looking forward to a 2-week visit from my sister and brother-in-law starting this weekend. It’s their first time to Italy, and we’re going to do the best we can to make it unforgettable for us all. And after that, I’ll be starting intensive Italian language school (which is sure to also be unforgettable).

Here’s to life! Keep your eyes on the horizon.
Michael