crying in positano

traveling alone (as a woman?!) and learning lessons the hard way

lets be honest, i love to catastrophize. i love it. i love to get all worked up just for it to blow out of my system moments later. and after i’ll look inward and think, who was that?

i traveled to the Amalfi Coast to a teeny tiny town called Ravello for the wedding of two friends who i love dearly. i was excited to see the cast of characters this surely spectacular event would bring. i was thrilled to see the sights, reunite with my best friends- including an almost one-year-old, and eat all the seafood pasta i could fit in my stomach.

getting to this destination is not for the weak. and i, unfortunately, am very weak. and up until rather last minute, i had a date to this wedding. but in the end, i endeavored to go it alone.

the past

the last time i was in Italy was five years ago. as basic as could be, i studied abroad for four months in Florence. it proved to be the best of times and the worst of times. returning to Italy has reminded me of the stunning and hellish adventure i had and that i didn’t spend nearly enough time conjugating Italian verbs.

i went through all the emotions that go with living in a country so beautiful. the initial awe that can lead to Stendhal Syndrome- a paralysis and potential psychosis caused by an over saturation of beauty. i would smile to myself and feel a rush each day as i walked to class and passed by the intricate duomo. but this feeling quickly turned into homesickness, culture shock, and debilitating depression. once i evened out and got into the swing of things, it was time to go home. i was happy to be back home, to a country where things aren’t so difficult all the time. but once i returned, i went through reverse culture shock and an even worse depression.

this is all to say that i’m not exactly unfamiliar with the country of Italy.

the present

i was back in the country where i’m clocked immediately- americana. some say with disdain. it shows in the way i walk, the way i wear my hair and the way i order my cappuccino. it’s written all over my face.

this trip into Italy was quite difficult. a literal uphill battle accompanied by a 45-pound suitcase and the unexpected loss of an extra couple hundred euros. all of that i could’ve handled. what i couldn’t handle was the constant criticism of my aloneness.

i don’t mind being alone. i’m used to it. i’ve always been a little lonely. but misery can follow you anywhere, even to the most beautiful parts of the world. misery mixed with exhaustion, starvation, and bronchitis is another story.

i broke down on the side of the road in Positano. was i supposed to go to Positano? absolutely not. did i end up there? yes i did.