Getting Lost Italian Style
On being humbled in foreign territory
If you follow me on Instagram or know me in real life, you’re probably aware I just spent a few weeks galavanting1 around Italy and Switzerland.
Overall, the trip was a blast. Rome, Florence, Venice, Verona, Lugano, and Milan. I adored the sights I found in every city and couldn’t believe how lucky I was just to be there. Usually, I’m ready to come home at the end of a vacation, but this time I didn’t want to. If I didn’t have a cat to care for, I might still be there, looking for the next European destination.
Alas, I did not keep the trip going. I came back home to my cat, mayoral corruption, baby rats playing on the stoop next door, and everything else New York has to offer.
While abroad I spent two days on my own in Verona. The first was easily the worst day of my trip. I hoped a small taste of solo travel would give me time to figure things out and have an experience of self-discovery. A kind of personal adventure that would put everything into focus. I got some self-discovery out of those days, but not the kind I’d hoped for.
As soon as I arrived in Verona alone, I crumbled.
First, I missed my bus stop. Next, I realized the hostel was pretty far from the sights I wanted to see. My suitcase wouldn’t fit in the locker. I made the mistake of looking at the mattress. I felt so lonely. I questioned why I’d come in the first place. I didn’t care about seeing Juliet’s Balcony - a tourist scam made from a fictional play written by a guy who never set foot in Italy.
What was I doing here? What was I supposed to do now that I was here?
While walking around looking for an ATM, I passed a gorgeous sculpture garden. For nine euro, I was able to go inside and wander the grounds until their 7 pm closing. I was determined to make the most of it. I took photos of the weather worn white marble figures and walked to the back of the garden to see the shallow caves. I slipped and slid on the dirt path in my red strappy sandals. I sat for a while on the edge of a stone fountain watching a turtle family swim to the surface of green murky water.
Then, I purposely let myself get lost in a three-foot hedge maze while listening to “anything” by Adrianne Lenker. On the second play of the song, I realized a couple sitting on a bench were watching me go back and forth in the bushes. They looked on with confusion as I tried not to bump into any of the branches that came up just above my waist. I’d intentionally taken all the wrong turns, hoping getting physically lost would make me feel emotionally found. Once I saw the couple, the full ridiculousness of this scene dawned on me, but it took me an embarrassingly long few minutes to retrace my steps and find the exit of the maze. Even though I was able to see it all from above.
After the theatrics, I sat on a rock and called a few loved ones to talk. I told them I was lonely and didn’t like the hostel. That I didn’t know what to do with myself.
It was an embarrassing and humbling experience.
When I called one friend she told me, “Solo travel is really hard. It’s not for everyone.” I’d heard people say this before I left for Italy, but never imagined I’d be one of those people who had trouble with it. “I’m so independent,” I thought. I live alone. I love my own company. I’ve been single my entire adult life. I’m not someone afraid of being alone…
Then again, even just two years out of college being alone is harder. Without roommates. Without classes in common. With the lives, bills, and partners that make it harder to hang out. And I know they’ve only just begun to rear their ugly heads. It’s only going to get worse, right? Marriages, children, careers. People get busy. Friends get further away.
There’s always the lurking fear of being someone with no one to call.
Crying in a sculpture garden in Verona felt mortifying at the time. I felt like I’d failed on my big solo two-day Euro-adventure. But how could I have known? How could I know that watching the two best friends in my hostel room discuss what restaurant to visit while taking time to rot between their activities would hurt so much? How could I imagine the sight would make me miss my best friend so much I’d feel like my heart was breaking?
The next day, after a great meal and a good night’s sleep I went to see all the sights I’d read about and remembered why I’d wanted to come to Verona in the first place. I rushed from a walking tour, to a museum, to a pasta bar, and wrote postcards while enjoying a glass of local wine. I even hit Juliet’s balcony where I joked around with a group of British women in their 60s who’d lost their Italian tour guide. We mocked and marveled at the “tradition” of touching Juliet’s left boob for good luck.2
On my evening train to Milan, I posted gorgeous photos on my story from that second day, feeling a little guilty for presenting such a skewed version of my time there. There are so many great memories from Italy I could write about in this newsletter. Mozzarella so good Clare was ready to marry it. Art so incredible it made us feel nauseous. Unbelievably gorgeous mountains in Switzerland I thought I would fall off the side of. Chance meetings, an epic karaoke performance, and walking through Florence barefoot.
Instead, I’m telling you about Verona, the place I’d planned to find myself and instead completely lost my mind. I’m telling you, because Instagram lies. Because sometimes it feels like after 2+ years of writing this newsletter, I’m still at square one. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to be an adult. How to be alone. How to move through a bad day and move forward.
It’s two steps forward and three back.
I didn’t find answers to everything in Italy or in my apartment when I got home. I don’t know if the search for direction ever really ends. If we’re ever able to see the hedge mazes of our lives from above and find the way out.
So let me say, I hope if you’ve been feeling lost lately you know you’re not alone. I hope reading this helps you let go of any embarrassment you might be harboring. Neither of us need it.
I have to believe this happens to the best of us. We all get lost in the garden sometimes, my friend.
For now, let’s just keep going.
Recommendations for This Era:
How to Die Alone on Hulu3
Problemista (2024)4
“anything” by Adrianne Lenker
The Nightmare Before Christmas Light Trail at the New York Botanical Gardens
Indulging in a Trader Joe’s Pumpkin flavored product you don’t need
High Potential on ABC
Apple scented candles
Giving your cat more attention
The Golden Bachelorette (I’m so sorry I can’t stop)
Celebrity Quote of This Era:
Meme of This Era:
Plug for one of my favorite niche shows of the past decade: ABC’s Galavant (2015-2016). Canceled too soon!
They pointed out she’s going to be looking lopsided pretty soon if people keep wearing her down.
A perfect show!!!
A perfect movie!!! I’m sorry I’m a little late to it.
Sophia, I loved this piece so much. It's so genuine, so raw, and real! Don't feel bad about posting on Insta story that doesn't reflect the "truth" of your travel. That is part of the truths and it's a choice we make to remember the best parts of it! Sounded like, despite some of the difficult feelings you have had, it was overall a fantastic trip! Very jealous!