Jet-Set Confessions: A Bi-Continental Life

These days, with the amount of time I spend cramped up on a plane, I feel like one of those badly upholstered seats should have my name embroidered on it. Maybe a tiny pillow mint should await me as I nestle up to the hard plastic armrest. Twisting and turning like a puzzle piece desperate to fit, I attempt to sell myself (and my back) on the fact that my flight is temporary, and soon I’ll be crunching down on the perfect chewy/crunchy pizza crust while indulging in a glass of glowing Barolo.

Although I miss, and have admittedly cried, for a few creature comforts back in California while I travel, after what feels like the hundredth flight, this become easier . . . somewhat.

Italy is my personal playground, a land that excels at everything I’ve desired and coveted (and yes, I’ve recognized that maybe those feelings aren’t all that healthy, but oh, are they fun!). I’m set free in a country of culinary delights, unabashed beauty, intriguing culture and a language that makes me want to sing each and every time I utter a syrupy or staccato syllable.

But as I’ve mentioned before, Italian life, although beautiful and inspired, is not easy. Job-hunting is challenging, and the locals are short on work, let alone the expats. The language barrier can cause for miscommunication, especially when I get into a heated argument. Instead of gorgeous, fluid Italian, sharp American slang slides out. And the culture, the passionate culture, is oh so very different than laid-back California.

Never do I regret getting on that plane to go to Europe. And I don’t mind the return to California either, for that matter. The two worlds suit my personality just fine. But, shallow as it may sound, I really do miss my efficient dryer and I-could-stay-here-forever bed.

Happy travels. May your seat have soft, cushy armrests.

XX

Danielle & Justine