The summer has come to an end, and so has my need to have everything figured out.
2021 was the year of rest or at least figuring out how to rest. It was a summer of firsts. The first summer amidst a global pandemic. The first summer that I spent living on a vineyard. The first summer I danced on a table (in a VERY long time). The first summer that I learned to say “I’m sorry” without actually saying anything. A summer full of heartbreaks and come-to-Jesus moments, I embraced it as the Italians had taught me to.
My summers in this country have become quite sacred.
The first year that I lived here, I spent the summer in Liguria soaking up the sun on the beach and dancing the night away with super cute (way too young for me) boys. The following year, it was trips to Marche and the discovery of sparkling red wine. With a pause in the schedule last year (because of COVID), this year I had no real plans but to explore places outside Torino.
On a ferry to Croatia, I sat on the deck listening to Ben Folds Five and sipping a whiskey — my thought process at that point was just how lucky I was to be finally living a life that made sense to me. You know what? Italians live great lives. The economy may be tanked, opportunity may be less than par, and the political landscape still fluctuating between modernity and ancient rule, but who cares when you’re guaranteed a week off (a month if you’re lucky) to enjoy doing absolutely nothing?
This summer taught me how to effectively slow down, let things go, and embrace the sweetness that was in front of me. Not going to lie, I indulged. There were things I probably shouldn’t have gotten into, people I probably shouldn’t have had entanglements with, but I did. And for a brief period, it was good.
One of the most memorable highlights of this summer was working during Cantine Aperte with the vignerons at Bossanova. I had never spent time on a vineyard in such a capacity, and being able to do everything from managing the stock room to cooking an impromptu veggie lunch for guests, to leading a yoga session in the middle of the field, or teaching a live cooking course and labeling wine bottles for shipment — it was truly one of the most exciting experiences of the summer. I am forever grateful to Nat and Dre for allowing me to actively participate, and I do recommend that if you’re in the Abruzzo area, you stop by their vineyard for a few bottles of wine.
Naturally, because it’s me, the summer was also one of the misunderstandings, mixed messages, and pangs of love. I truly believe that love is the greatest thing in the world, but also the most challenging. And even though we often suffer because of love, I do believe it’s worth it. It grows us into stronger, more capable human beings, gives us the strength to accomplish all our dreams, and many times, lets us know that our imperfections are just as loveable as our perfections.
This summer my heart broke twice.
Both experiences taught me that we can’t control the way other people feel about us, but we can control how we react and sometimes, act in times of discomfort. At my lowest points of heartbreak, I cooked. Cooking is the salve I never knew I needed, until this summer. The sizzle of butter in a pan, the crack of an egg, the smell of roasted cardamom and basil, the first slice of a perfectly baked cake. I learned to cook my way through the confusion and eat not just to be filled, but to savor some sweetness during hard moments.
When I was in Croatia this summer, I met a wonderful man named Goran.
The owner of a sweet restaurant in the center of Split, we quickly became friends and talked for a few hours. I think I often prefer traveling alone because I always meet the most interesting souls. Goran’s gentle nature touched me, it was like he knew that I was struggling with some things and the advice he gave — almost in parables — has stayed with me until now.
This summer was a summer of solitude.
Of course, there were friends and family to join in on the fun, but for the most part, I wanted some freedom and truly enjoyed being alone. I went to Milan and randomly went on a date with a scientist, as any single woman in her right mind would do. It was an interesting experience as I found the city to be dry, and somewhat boring compared to Torino. Yes, I said that*
Soon after, it was a trip to Bologna to explore the many wine bars and outdoor cafes. Years before, I had gone to Bologna and stayed at a convent only to escape at night to party with new friends at an underground club. This time, I met a local politician and restaurant owner who happened to be sitting next to me during lunch. His words have remained unforgettable to me. He emphasized the need for rest during difficult times and added that in Italy, it was a way of life. To pause from the daily proceedings and obligations of life to sit with family and friends on the beach, sipping a beer and enjoying nothing but the chatter of others — was there a better luxury in life?
I spent a lot of this summer reassessing what it meant to live a life that truly made me happy. In the end, it came down to two things: freedom of expression and community. Freedom of expression allows for creativity, individuality, and a sense of self-worth. Without the ability to write, cook and create recipes, to build things — I know that I cannot survive. Community, on the other hand, is necessary for me in order to understand the world around me. While in Italy, I’ve learned to actively be a part of a community in a way that adds value, rather than depletes it.
As we embark on a new season, I reflect on all the heartbreak and dreams that were endured and created this past summer. To live in Italy is to be eternally blessed with good living and to take a moment to hit pause. I implore you to reflect on your journeys, your own summers and find the things you need to live a happy life.
Also, do take the ferry from Ancona to Split — it’s a total dream boat.