My metaphorical baggage from Italy
After much inner debating, I think I should open up about all the metaphorical things I have brought back from Italy. The list of physical things I took back can be found here from two weeks ago.
First of all, I did bring back a driver’s license that’s not expired. I know a driver’s license is a physical thing, but now I can confirm that driving ‘is just like riding a bike’, which makes me wonder why the saying involved bikes and not cars. I haven’t been on a bike in about twenty years and I am pretty sure one can forget how to ride a bike.
But I digress.
I’ve been here for so long that not only I let my first license expire therefore not learning how to drive in Melbourne, but also I was sure I forgot how to drive in Italy.
What a total disaster.
There I was, with a brand new license driving my mum’s car around my hometown thinking to myself I haven’t forgotten how to drive, after all! To be fair, I did drive very slowly, no music, constantly reminding myself to keep right. The second time driving I even managed to turn on the radio and kept that channel very low the whole time while shouting to the rear window windscreen wiper to stop moving.
Anyway, I brought back the knowledge that I am still able to successfully drive a car in Italy and that if I know how to handle our mountain roads in a manual car, I can, and will, learn how to drive an automatic on the left.
I brought back the realisation that I am one of the lucky ones that don’t miss the place we were born in and only miss the people. Mountains are hard to move, as Muhammad knows perhaps too well, but people are incredibly easy to reach with smartphones, especially now that I’ve been granted access to the super-secret friends Whatsapp group!
It’s a small tap for men, one giant leap for long-distance friendship.
Then, I brought back closet closure.
Yeah, it’s a thing.
I left Italy thinking I would be back in twelve months, so I didn’t even bother putting my slippers away. Cut to four years later, fashion has changed, my lifestyle has changed, my style has changed too. I spent weeks Marie Kondo’ing all my closets and ended up donating more than half of my clothes.
I expect an army of alternative teenagers invading my hometown wearing rather familiar dresses.
Finally, I brought back the inner peace that I can have two homes. It may sound silly but for the past few years, I have been repressing my ‘Italianity’ by never acknowledging the fact that I have friends and family that may miss me, never speaking Italian, and trying my absolute best to integrate into a different culture.
I have even met Australians so proud of being Italians, simply because their grandparents came from Italy, despite having never been there nor speaking the language. And here I stand, blaming them for not being ‘really’ Italians while hiding my accent.
Home is anywhere you don’t need to pack a toothbrush whenever you visit. Home is where you know you have comfy pyjamas waiting for you. Home is where your support system is.
Heck, if I can have two citizenships, why can’t I have two homes?
Image: via
First of all, I did bring back a driver’s license that’s not expired. I know a driver’s license is a physical thing, but now I can confirm that driving ‘is just like riding a bike’, which makes me wonder why the saying involved bikes and not cars. I haven’t been on a bike in about twenty years and I am pretty sure one can forget how to ride a bike.
But I digress.
I’ve been here for so long that not only I let my first license expire therefore not learning how to drive in Melbourne, but also I was sure I forgot how to drive in Italy.
What a total disaster.
There I was, with a brand new license driving my mum’s car around my hometown thinking to myself I haven’t forgotten how to drive, after all! To be fair, I did drive very slowly, no music, constantly reminding myself to keep right. The second time driving I even managed to turn on the radio and kept that channel very low the whole time while shouting to the rear window windscreen wiper to stop moving.
Anyway, I brought back the knowledge that I am still able to successfully drive a car in Italy and that if I know how to handle our mountain roads in a manual car, I can, and will, learn how to drive an automatic on the left.
I brought back the realisation that I am one of the lucky ones that don’t miss the place we were born in and only miss the people. Mountains are hard to move, as Muhammad knows perhaps too well, but people are incredibly easy to reach with smartphones, especially now that I’ve been granted access to the super-secret friends Whatsapp group!
It’s a small tap for men, one giant leap for long-distance friendship.
Then, I brought back closet closure.
Yeah, it’s a thing.
I left Italy thinking I would be back in twelve months, so I didn’t even bother putting my slippers away. Cut to four years later, fashion has changed, my lifestyle has changed, my style has changed too. I spent weeks Marie Kondo’ing all my closets and ended up donating more than half of my clothes.
I expect an army of alternative teenagers invading my hometown wearing rather familiar dresses.
Finally, I brought back the inner peace that I can have two homes. It may sound silly but for the past few years, I have been repressing my ‘Italianity’ by never acknowledging the fact that I have friends and family that may miss me, never speaking Italian, and trying my absolute best to integrate into a different culture.
I have even met Australians so proud of being Italians, simply because their grandparents came from Italy, despite having never been there nor speaking the language. And here I stand, blaming them for not being ‘really’ Italians while hiding my accent.
Home is anywhere you don’t need to pack a toothbrush whenever you visit. Home is where you know you have comfy pyjamas waiting for you. Home is where your support system is.
Heck, if I can have two citizenships, why can’t I have two homes?
Image: via
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