Sometimes I get so sad that I want to cry, but I suppose I am ready to go home. You can't spend money like this and live so frivolously on a permanent basis. I think that this trip was designed well in terms of phasing in enough elements from home to slowly introduce me back into my normal, banal life, so that the shock wasn't so great. I went from Florence to my family in Pisa, so it felt like I was with the home folk even while I was still in an Italian environment. Then the environment was slowly Anglo-Americanized as I moved into London, and with friends I had been with in Italy, so it felt like I was not leaving anything really behind. I actually brought the best part of Italy with me. Then after my friends left, a friend from home, Jose, met me here. He'll be at the airport with me tomorrow. Transitions can't get any smoother than this.
During the course of this month and a half I was conscious to not harbor little mementos, collect every song or business card in my path, or take pictures of inconsequential moments, because I didn't want to create opportunities for myself to go home and immerse myself in this memorabilia in an effort to relive what is no longer there. But now that I'm about to leave entirely, I've got tinges of regret for not having done so, because maybe it means that later on I will sit there in loneliness with no relics to nourish the longing.
I'd like to someday live in London or a city in Italy. Florence would be fine but it's "troppo casino," kind of too much, too messy. I could deal with London, because they are so good about diversity, structure, style, and order. But I'd better damn well have a job whose pay is relative to the cost of living here. It's ridiculous. The weather also is quite intolerable. There are people here who are so alabaster white and it calls to mind just why in nature plants need sun to live. Pallor is nasty.
Jose and I had dinner in Chinatown last night, and Indian food for lunch today. Both were great meals and a good value for London. We were also at Tesco, a 24-hour megamarket. Combine that with Selfridge's Food Halls and I think I could really adapt to a London diet.
Jose has been quite patient with me, because I spend like a madwoman and am terribly impulsive, especially about coffee. I keep trying to incorporate habits I had in Italy into my actual environment. For example, today I was still in search of the perfect cup of coffee and actually spent £4, which is about $6, on espresso shots and cappuccinos. All were disgusting and hugely dissatisfying, and it all boils down to the kind of milk the British use, which is like American milk. When I go home I will have to start buying Parmalat again. Now that I have left Italy I realize how content I was there. My initial fascination and ardor with it grew into a happy kind of stability, and now I'm a little at a loss with what to do with myself. It wasn't just the place. It was the people and the ways. Maybe I could not live there forever, but I certainly would not mind trying.
Sometimes I get so sad that I want to cry, but I suppose I am ready to go home.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 8:18 AM
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