I am sitting in the airport in Vienna, Austria. The Italy leg of my trip is over already and it feels weird. Historically, I have always spent a larger proportion of my time in Italy than anywhere else. Not this time.
While in Italy, I made it a point to visit Alba Adriatica, my home of one year in 2014-15. I had romantic memories of the place stored on my mental iCloud. Even though there were times I suffered severe loneliness and raged over the inefficiency of the Italian system, the images of that year are fond ones. Continue reading