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There and back again

After almost seven months, returning to Italy was different from what I had expected.
I thought I was having a massive bout of nostalgia, thinking I wanted to come back at all costs.
But no.
Mind you; I was delighted to see my friends and relatives again and to see the places where I had lived for 15 years; I was sorry to leave, but I did not have that tremendous feeling of sorrow that, for example, I had had so many years ago when I left Rome.

During the first months in London, I had a horrible moment when I would have given a kidney to go back. What I have realised now, after coming back, is that what I missed was not Milan, not my language, not my friends, but my home.
A place of my own where I could take refuge, a place where I could rest and be well.
And after finding such a place in London, things changed, and so did my thoughts.

One thing I haven’t been able to convey to friends, talking to them in person, is how much I have changed.
I see the strengths and weaknesses of Italy; I see the strengths and weaknesses of England.
I can no longer make superficial judgements about anything because I know how different the approaches and solutions to the same problem can be. One is not necessarily simply better than the other.

One thing remains: I love Italy; many Italians are unique people who have done beautiful things; there is not only the economic crisis, corrupt politics, and the debacle of ignorance. Again, it is more complicated than that.

We took many photos of the areas of Milan that have changed as if we were tourists. We went to Expo for one evening, and if all goes well, we will return soon to stay there for at least a whole day because it is beautiful, beyond all the usual silly criticism.

But coming back to London has been good. Here is my home; slowly, we are bringing our things there, and it is becoming a safer place to rest. And London is becoming more like me; it is the city I had always dreamed of, it never stops surprising me and telling me something new. Change and new things have become a drug I can’t get enough of.

The journey to get here was a one-way trip. There is no going back, even if I wanted to because I could never see things the same way again. And I am pleased about that.
On an emotional level, there is a lot in this simple article.
Part of me still lives in Milan, as I do in Borgomanero or Rome. But the part I like the most now lives in London.

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