By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
I think everyone has a purpose, and a personal timing in life. Milano was a lesson of passion. The B&b I stayed was a lovers retreat in which the couple would go in together but leave in separate times, separate ways, after sharing passionate moans that did not let me sleep. If I had sleep, I wouldn’t have to steal coffee from the breakfast room, and stay up all night at the non closing window later to fall under a spell of the beautiful old neoclassical houses, moonlight and the noise of travelers like me trying to get around the rounded messy pavement. My head was still at home however. After followed Verona,god, if the italian were a little bit less, italian like. I would stay, it was beginning of december so I thought I could have a word with juliet to see if I should follow her lead and give up the on love, but she isn’t the role model I hoped she would be, I mean, everyone’s got to a learn a living, but being groped all day long ? I left, got my self some vin brulé, and found me a nice corner restaurant where I got fed amazing meatballs and pasta and a sweet, sweet, sweet red wine (it’s not a typo mistake the wine was really sweet and I got three glasses)it’s a lifestyle I tell you.( hot and sweet alcohol in winter is life changing). My anxiety doesn’t fully let me appreciate this moments because my mind ended up always at home.As if I knew I had to be there soon and enjoy. Still, Florence came up, or I did so. I could finally rest, all my encounters with no so nice, but beautiful and fashionable italians, didn’t mean anything anymore when I got there; the canal, the bridges, the lasagna, my soaking converses in the middle of a square a few meters from gucci, pinko and all these brands I can’t afford to look, just, umbrella-less, the rest of me was also soaking, not just on the rain but at how lucky I was to be able to see that sober day, sober colors buildings, (I wasn’t sober which helped)cold rain drops reflecting christmas lights all around. I didn’t want to leave but I don’t think they would even treat me from a cold because I was in italy but couldn’t speak italian and they don’t speak anything else. Finally rome, hated it. And home back to my grandmother, who told me everyday that I was missed.And made me hate rome so much because the day couldn’t go any slower. I am not sorry I just didn’t like it. The colisseum was a destroyed beautiful monster, probably too many flashes and starings. She passed 2 weeks ago yesterday, and so part of me. My last trip was my last unthought traveling experience. But the next ones are going to be fearless, I have no one to come back to. Hey, I know this traveling story sucks but I really needed someone to read it and understand from a writer point of view what I actually am trying to say. Traveling while being a solo, black, woman has it’s toll on you. I got looks while dining alone as if I was to take their husbands with me, I got ignored until I spoke english and the treatment went from dealing with an illegal alien to providing a good experience to a tourist, the weight and pressure I felt going into famous bars and feeling bad because , being alone I should stay at home instead of taking seats from people who actually have friends they want to completely spend time ignoring each other while they’re on their latest iphones taking snaps in a trendy place with their trendy haircuts and trendy daytime bffs. Not easy honestly, italy was specially hard, they care too much about themselves, and too little about how their arrogance is an actual ongoing issue world wide. My fault though working at an airport I should have known what I was in for, but all I wanted to do was to get a way for a while and so I actually did.