I’ve delayed writing my final email because 1) procrastination and 2) it means this period has sadly come to an end. I previously didn’t share how I planned to solo-travel for my last 2.5 weeks in Italy because I didn’t actually entirely know myself. My fate was largely decided by recommendations from teachers in Torino, ideas from new friends, and suggestions from complete strangers along the way.

When folks learned I had never visited Venice before, everyone said it was beautiful, romantic, and that I had to go see it for myself. After visiting Bologna with Barry, my first train took me straight to Venezia Santa Lucia. There were no roads in Venice, only canals and walkways, so I lugged my three bags through the twisting, narrow alleys of this unique city floating on water. Even though it rained while I visited, I think I understood its charm. There were holiday lights hung all throughout the city with a grand Christmas tree in the center and beautifully carved gondolas sailing under steep, curved bridges–it was a maze of eye candy!

Through the magic of “Find My Friends”, I discovered I was coincidentally near some family friends, so I spontaneously caught up with Alessandra and Hannah for some high-quality company over seafood risotto (thank you Nayun for connecting us!). Per their recommendation, I spent the next day exploring Murano which is a nearby island dedicated to glass-blowing. The glass-makers moved out of the main island in the late 1200s because it was a fire hazard, but also to guard their glass-making secrets from rival cities! Intent on discovering their secrets, I ferried to Murano to visit the esteemed Glass Cathedral. The glass master Michele effortlessly turned honey-like molten glass into an inflated heart, fish, and phoenix within minutes. The process looked fairly doable from my seat, but after trying to shape the molten glass myself, my ugly blob revealed it was far from easy. My overall opinion of Venice: if you’re looking for delicious Italian food, affordable coffee, and an authentic local experience, it’s not worth your time (the city is filled with >50% tourists on any given day!). But if you’re very intrigued to see what a city built on water looks like or you love glass-blowing, go right ahead!

My next plan was to train to Verona, however, one of my fellow teachers recommended I visit Vicenza–a smaller city known for its beautiful architecture. I trusted her advice and spent a day wandering this incredibly cute city. I can't think of a better word for it. Within moments of walking past the towering city walls, I found myself among these adorable elder ladies purchasing their daily groceries at an outdoor mercato and buying pesce fritto (fried fish) for lunch (which I obviously had to do as well). What immediately struck me was the stunning architecture on nearly every block, which I soon learned was designed by Andrea Palladio–arguably one of the most influential architects in history. Walking through the exquisite Teatro Olimpico, the first indoor theatre ever built, I learned that Palladio developed its blueprint in just one year in 1580! As I slowly meandered past the city's churches, palaces, and villas in the countryside, it was clear he experimented with different materials (some withstanding the test of time, some not) and was heavily influenced by Roman and Greek architecture. Not a single English word in earshot the entire day, I enjoyed listening to the music of Italians chat away and pretended to be one of them myself.

I finally settled into Verona, which easily became one of my top three favorite cities in Italy (Shakespeare was onto something with setting "Romeo and Juliet" here). If you're a history geek, art lover, food/wine connoisseur, or avid hiker, do not miss it! With a 24 hour tourist pass in hand and time ticking, I became a woman on a mission to absorb as much as possible. I won't bore you with all 15 stops I made, but my first highlight was the Arena di Verona covered in pink marble that sparkled under the bright sun. Built in 30 AD (older than the Colosseum!), this Roman amphitheatre was initially used for gladiator fights and is now famous for being the world's largest open-air opera house. From the top of the Torre dei Lamberti, I could see the whole city curled inside the Adige river, with Roman bridges, castle walls, church towers, and even the tiny courtyard balcony of the Capolletti family (which turned into a symbol for one of the world's greatest love stories). Trying to beat the sunset, I ran over to appreciate the barely standing Teatro Romano–Verona's oldest structure built 2100 years ago; Andrea Palladio actually helped redraw the blueprints when it needed reinforcement. At the perfect time, I climbed the winding stairs and charged up the hill to Castel San Pietro to soak in the beautiful pink and purple dwindling sky.

A neat little detail I appreciated in the city... there is an original piece of Roman road that passes under a historic arch (Arco dei Gavi) and you can see old track marks in the stones left by the Roman wagons from years of riding! This is just one small piece of evidence among the more significant and ancient cathedrals, towers, and bridges, but it kept striking me that I could see, hear, and feel thousands of years of history before me all in the present moment. We don’t really get that in the US since it’s such a (relatively) new country. I miss living in a city with its history so remembered and alive.

Next up, I made a big pivot out of Italy to visit my dear friend Hélène in Zurich. It was a needed break from traveling alone the past week. Not that I was feeling lonely, but I was craving some good ole genuine friend connection. On my 5 hour train ride over, I sat next to this seemingly shy 18 year-old boy. After brief interactions about the train schedule, he offered me a chocolate, I offered him some nuts, and we started chatting away! I learned he was from Egypt, moved to Italy a year ago after traveling in Europe, and is now working as a cook in Milan. It was especially fun talking in Italian with someone who also recently learned (our only overlapping language). It was the first time I couldn’t use English as a fallback if I didn’t know a word, forcing me to describe something with other Italian words instead. But when we were at a true loss for words, he used Google Translate to translate Arabic to Italian, and I (obviously) translated with English.

Once arriving to Zurich with Hélène and feeling restaurant-ed out, we headed to the farmers market to find fresh fruits and vegetables to cook for dinner and to prepare a winter salad for a friend’s potluck. I found myself getting unusually excited at this farmers market because I wasn’t just a tourist looking at the produce; I was actually here intent to buy food that I planned to cook. Day-dreaming our ideal recipes and discussing what to buy while walking back and forth between the stands was such a joy. That is the crux of traveling that I love (maybe that’s just living?). When you’re actually immersing yourself in the locals’ daily culture, not just observing it from the outside.

Hélène was working at a seasonal candle store before the holidays, so we spent a few hours over the course of the weekend slowly making beeswax candles together. Oh, what peace this brought me! We joined her housemates at the Christmas singing tree which was literally a tree of children standing and singing out-of-tune holiday songs. Oh, how this made me smile! The following day we arrived at a friend's potluck party where I reunited with a handful of people I hadn't seen in 12 years. For context, I met Hélène from a high school exchange program where we stayed in each others' homes for a month each, so we got to know each others' classmates quite well. Getting to see Omar, Remi, and Elwin after all this time felt surreal, but their faces and energies were still so familiar. By the end of the night, we were laughing all together, looking at old, embarrassing photos and reminiscing about being 16 years-old together. Oh, how this filled my heart!

The biggest unknown in my travels came right about now. Around a month and a half earlier, I sent out about ten cold emails to chefs of pasta classes and cooking schools, sharing my love of cooking, and asked if I could cook with them, watch and observe, or even just clean their dishes. It was a long shot for sure. It didn’t work out with any of them... UNTIL two weeks before this point, Giorgio from the Florence Food Studio responded saying he could possibly make it work. We hopped on the phone and figured out a plan where I could essentially do a condensed internship over the course of a short week. He helped me find affordable accomodations near his studio, I booked my train ticket, and was on my way to Florence!

Before starting my cooking adventure with Giorgio, I took two days to explore Florence and its outskirts. My first day I played tourist admiring the David statue at the Galleria dell’Accademia, learned about Italian unification while eating a prosciutto foccacia sandwich, and wandered artisan markets to find the most bitter olive oil and the sweetest local honey. When ordering my sandwich, I decided to leave the fate of my next day in the sandwich man’s suggestion: to visit Siena!

After an hour and a half of knitting on the train (a new hobby discovered while there), I arrived in Siena tucked high in the hills of the Tuscan countryside. Even though there are only 55k people living in the city, it's split into 17 different contrade: fiercely loyal districts with their own symbols (animals/objects like the giraffe, unicorn, she-wolf, etc) and deep-rooted traditions. After eating homemade egg pappardelle with wild boar ragu and trying the local delicacy panforte with almonds and dates (yes, I am trying to make you hungry), I took myself on a scavenger hunt to find each contrada's emblem, walking through the most charming city yet (my second favorite Italian city). The quiet, rolling hills beyond the city walls, the dark green, lanky trees hugging the city's cathedral, the faint sun setting above the staggered pastel-colored apartments with roof tiles old enough to tell mystical fairy tales–it was charm packaged in city form.

Now for the part I looked forward to most of all: the cooking!! I met head chef Giorgio for the first time inside the nearby macelleria (butcher) to buy beef and chicken thighs. From his online profile, I thought he’d be a gruff and serious kind of guy, but he was gentle and kind, immediately explaining why he was picking these meats and how we we’re going to cook them. When we got back to his food studio, I tied an apron behind my back, put this silly white and blue striped cap on my head, and together we spent hours prepping ingredients for a dinner party the following day. We cooked polenta from scratch, cooled it down in the freezer, and cut it into squares to later be fried. I peeled and diced pears to cook in marsala cooking wine, vanilla extract, and star anise to make a puree for inside a choclate soufflé. I watched him expertly sear the beef and then learned how to carefully seal it in a bag with herbs and spices to sous vide. We boiled potatoes and made gnocchi from scratch, Giorgio teaching me a trick to more easily shape the soft pasta. For the gnocchi sauce, we boiled and blended cauliflower, seasoning with parmiggiano reggiano, heavy cream, and a dash of nutmeg. During all of this, we were constantly cleaning dishes in an industrial-sized dishwasher that made everything squeaky clean within 2 minutes. By the end of my time here, I probably washed thousands of plates, forks, and spoons.

After our lunch break, I came back to meet more of Giorgio’s team. There were two younger girls Alessia and Heline that helped with prep and assistant work, and also two older women Elena and Elena that shared the main chef-ing work with Giorgio. At the end of our week together, it felt like I joined their little cooking world and created a community of my own in Santo Spirito, Florence. But before the trust was earned and the friendships were made, they put me to work and tested my abilities, chopping onions until tears formed, cleaning and cutting celery, dicing carrots as small as possible, and endlessly stirring ragus and soups that needed constant attention. The afternoon was full of prepping ingredients for the pasta cooking class and dinner that evening. We made pappa al pomodoro for their appetizer (fresh and jarred tomatoes with garlic, red onion, and basil, blended together with stale bread and topped with stracchino), prepared a ravioli filling (with ricotta, pear, parmiggiano reggiano, and pecorino) and sauce (butter and sage), and cooked pollo in fricassa for their entree (chicken coated in flour with egg yolk and lemon juice to thicken the sauce). I helped weigh baking ingredients on the scale, made a mess sifting flour, adjusted recipes for gluten allergies, became well-acquainted with the immersion blender, and generally learned the dance around the kitchen. Meanwhile, Alessia was on the other side of the kitchen baking heavenly schiacciata to snack on (which is a thinner, crispier, and saltier version of focaccia, literally meaning “smushed”) and prepping the dessert zuccotto, slicing spongecake and making sweet cream gelato from scratch. And the whole day there was Italian Pop/Rock music playing in the background, folks belting out the choruses when a banger came on.

Two new food-related words that Giorgio taught me:

- mantecare: to make something creamy (like when you add pasta water to emulsify a sauce)

- schifato: to not feel comfortable sharing food or utensils (most Italian dining doesn’t involve sharing beyond the antipasti, so surprisingly a good number of Italians are schifato from hygiene concerns). I am most definitely not schifato

I couldn’t bear to leave out any detail from my first day because it was pure heaven for my five senses. Even though it was quite a long day working straight from 10AM to 11PM, being at the food studio and with this team left me buzzing with energy. After chopping, chatting, and learning Firenze cuisine secrets, I nearly skipped home in joy, soaking in my favorite day over the past three months. This email is already far too long so I will spare you the remaining details, but kitchen highlights included:

- Watching Elena experiment with breading tiny quail eggs and frying leeks to make it look like an egg in a nest

- Eating the “ugly” yet rich, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate soufflés when they weren’t fit to serve

- Learning how to make ragù di polpo (an octopus ragu) as it had a different process than your normal meat ragu. Cook it with olives to let the sauce absorb the flavor, but then take them out at the end

- Serving heaping plates of tagliatelle al ragu to a party of 28 people at the food studio who oohed and awed when the food was set down in front of their noses

- Making four massive containers of lasagna while Elena told me how she used to make dinners for over 1,000 people in Siena during the Palio di Siena, that she used big clothing bins to mix the pasta and sauce together because they were the only things big enough, and how once she and her best friend got in a fight over how to cook stuffed zucchini

- Working a holiday dinner party of 10 people with Giorgio at a client’s very cozy Firenze home. Elbow to elbow in the kitchen plating dishes, I felt so grateful and lucky this man blindly trusted me to be a reliable right-hand woman for this job (I could’ve very easily dropped a plate on someone’s lap or messed up the sauce!)

If you chatted with me during my three months away, you would know I had a mission to buy myself an Italian jacket. Lo and behold, on my very last evening before flying home, I randomly stumbled into a quiet hidden gem, Marco’s Leather Store, and found this stunning deep red, fitted jacket that felt like it was made for me. While on the surface this is just some material good I bought myself, it felt quite symbolic and full-circle for my time in Italy. I set out with several goals to acheive and questions to answer for myself, and this was the last one I had yet to resolve.

At this store, I met some Americans living in Naples and we started chatting about why we were all here. While telling them bits and pieces of my story and how I learned Italian, pride and confidence suddenly overtook me. Saying these things outloud, I felt so proud of my decision to come here and full from all of the experiences and memories I had just created. I learned how to live and operate in a brand new city, putting in the effort to create community. I navigated teaching angsty high-schoolers. I got over the humps of embarrassment when saying things wrong in Italian, ignored the English responses, and solidered on in Italian. I didn’t pressure myself to plan everything ahead, but flew by the seat of my pants. I cold-emailed my way to working in an Italian kitchen!

I felt so very grateful that I was even in a position to do this at all. There was a blaring awareness and satisfaction that I squeezed as much as I could’ve hoped out of every second on this adventure. Every bit was challenging, interesting, engaging, beautiful, peaceful, spiritually rejuvenating, and wonderfully present. Even though I didn’t prioritize my health for the last three months, I don’t regret a single bite.

Abbracci e baci,

Bianca

It’s been a little over half a month since I emailed you last and much has changed. I finished my time teaching in Torino, spent a long week with my dear partner Barry in Emilia-Romagna, and am now solo-travelling around Italy—goodness, time goes by fast! Here are some more memories, reflections, thoughts, and opinions...

In my last two weeks in Torino, I packed in as much as I could with my free time left. I tried a classic piadina with mortadella and pistachio pesto, saw the automobile museum to learn about the history of Fiat, watched a dramatic piano recital at the local conservatory, witnessed Jannik Sinner win the ATP finals at a massive viewing arena, and finally bought myself nice Italian boots. With little time before leaving, I also wanted to take the time to properly say goodbye to those who had made my time so wonderful. The biggest and longest goodbye was telling all 36 classes that it was my last class. Even though I only taught around 4 lessons per class, these goodbyes made me realize that I had actually made a pretty positive impact on the students. While initially bittersweet when I told them the news, their shocked “oh no!”s and genuine “thank you!”s honestly made me feel really full, that I was somehow already someone to miss, that I had provided something worthwhile to them in the classroom. I definitely came into this experience with a selfish motivation to figure out if teaching was for me, but it felt really satisfying to leave this period knowing I also gave something in return. Look at what one adorable class left for me on the chalkboard!

Around the 1.5 month mark, it really felt like I was building a community here. My tennis buddy Edo invited me to his birthday party where I saw others from our gym and I also met new ragazzi around my age. We shared classic Piemontese anitpasti, all ordered our own pizzas (they don't share their pizzas here), and drank only red wine as I learned most Italians don't drink white (as least in the winter). I'm proud that I held my own speaking Italian to these new friends! After dinner, we headed to the "disco" and I have to admit that the club scene in Torino is pretty fun. A new friend from this birthday party invited a few of us to her tapas wine bar opening, so I got to enjoy an open bar and charcutierie heaven. Another night as I walked home from running errands, I received a text to join some folks at an art show nearby, ironically with a slam-poet from Brooklyn! Life felt alive with that kind of spontaneous fun when you have friends around (being in a small city helped).

I also continued seeing (and messaging for practice) my language exchange friend Ilaria. The last time I saw her we had fun practicing Italian and English over dinner at a traditional piola (it’s a more casual and cheaper type of restaurant). I learned more about her work in art restoration, her family’s restaurant in Liguria, and received an official invitation to visit her by the sea! Hopefully these examples are enough to show you that Italians are much quicker to invite new friends to events and generally spend time together, which I think helps foster a strong sense of community. It made me realize in America (or at least the spaces I’ve been in) that people are often shy to engage with new people, so it can take a long time to build a friendship with someone. Maybe we all could embrace this type of Italian outreach more!

I also had a chance to say goodbye and thank you to all the teachers I worked with at the high school. We organized a lunch at this fantastic restaurant that only serves baked potatoes where you get to decide your fillings–an absolutely brilliant concept. We shared gratitudes about our time together and also, naturally, argued about where the best cannolis are made. Three teachers from Sicily claimed that the sheep’s milk in their ricotta is the best because of the salty Sicilian ocean air. Two teachers from Sardinia brought some strong rebuttals to this claim... Italians certainly love to talk about food (which always made it easy for me to jump in). All in all, I feel really grateful to have met these kind and patient human beings who showed me a whole new world of caring for students as if they were their own.

Finally, I wanted to say goodbye and a massive thank you to both of my host families. Honestly, there’s not much to say other than we ate a lot of great food, looked back fondly to cherish our memories together, and had long, drawn out goodbyes. One small but fun detail worth mentioning is that my first host family insisted we order, not one, but two rounds of grappa since I hadn’t tried it yet. This drink is a traditional Italian spirit made from the left over skins, seeds, and stems after winemaking, with an alcohol content around 50%. Grappa combined with a bottle of red wine led to a truly silly, goofy, and playful night in all the best ways. I’m going to miss them a lot.

The next chapter took root as I trained out of Torino and through Milan to explore the Emilia-Romagna region with Barry. Reuniting together was just pure fun for our five senses as we walked through charming cobblestone streets of old Italian cities, listened to local music, practiced cooking pasta from scratch, and gorged ourselves with probably the best food and wine this country has to offer. In Parma, we enjoyed a piano concert in Marie Louise the Duchess of Parma’s old house and ate the softest, melt-in-your-mouth prosciutto, salami, ham, and coppa.

In Reggio Emilia, we took a fascinating tour detailing the process to make parmigiano-reggiano over 12 months and aged balsamic vinegar over 30 years. Tip: if your "parmesan" doesn't have "reggiano" or "DOP" in the name or on the label, it's not the real deal. I loved seeing how the art of making parmigiano-reggiano has maintained so much of the original, manual process and barely uses any machines. Starting with 6AM cow milkings, the cheese makers take hundreds of gallons of their whole milk mixed with last night's skim milk and heat it gradually in large copper vats. The masters, with minimum 15 years of training, can sense with their hands when it's the right temperature to add natural whey starter and calf rennet which allows the milk to curdle. I won't bore you with every detail, but know it's thoughtful, intentional, and made with so much care. And if you want my opinion, 24-month aged parmeggiano is the best age.

Modena fully stole our hearts when it came to its food and charming city styel. We ate the most soul-nurturing torteillini in brodo and tagliatelle al ragu in an unassuming second-floor grandma’s trattoria. We dined at a couple insane restaurants inspired by Massimo Bottura–arguably the best chef in Italy—sipping on incredibly creative balsamic vinegar cocktails and tasting a mind-blowing dish with five different ages of parmigiano-reggiano master-minded together. We wandered the pastel-colored streets, soaking in the local holiday markets, and walked through Enzo Ferrari’s museum where I got a crash course on car engines.

Bologna absolutely kicked butt at making lasagna verde and upped the ante when it came to tagliatelle al ragu (any sauce called a "bolognese" is a meat-based sauce, no fresh tomatoes). Per my host family's recommendation, we picked up piping hot lasagnas from a pasta shop window and ate them in front of the nearby basilica. We tried the best mortadella we have ever and likely will ever eat at a place called Mo Mortadella, and we later learned this spot is backed by the Mafia! Around 2-3 years ago, Bologna popped off as a tourist destination (one reason being an episode of Stanley Tucci's TV show, "Searching for Italy" on Bologna), which meant there was more money to make in the city, which unfortauntely meant the Mafia came to play. We learned this lore from a local chef Luigi who taught us how to make riccota tortelloni (bigger than tortellini), proper taglietelle al ragu, and tiramisu from scratch. Our cooking class started with buying the fresh ingredients from a local mercato and drinking home-made cappuccini. I will very much miss Luigi and the fresh, healthy, and accessible produce in this country.

One last memory to share: on Thanksgiving day, we walked up through the Portico di San Luca–a nearly 4km covered pathway built in 1655 to reach a church uphill and now an UNESCO world heritage site. We sweated our way up the long and winding path with nearly 400 stairs in the late afternoon, eaves dropping on strangers' conversations. I was simply in awe of the beautiful, rolling hills beyond the church in the countryside. After some time to soak in the sunset, we walked down freely, taking turns to share our gratitudes while enjoying the cotton-candy colored sky.

By the end of our 10 days together, we were pasta-ed out and we sorely missed garlic and spice (as northern Italians do not mess with these ingredients), but I got Barry to start appreciating red wine and he officially completed his 5 year plan to make me a coffee drinker. I don’t have any philosophical takeaways like my last email, but it was seriously such a wonderful and fun week playing tourist together. Beyond food and wine, we explored many different cafes, ventured through museums to learn about the history of Italy, and yapped about nearly every topic under the sun. Finally on Sunday it was sadly time to part ways... After a more difficult than expected goodbye at the Bologna airport, I lugged my three bags and myself to the train station to begin my solo-traveling journey. In cliff-hangar fashion, I will stop here and save my final two and a half weeks of adventure for the last email I send to you!

I hope you all enjoyed a delicious food-filled Thanksgiving with family and/or friends. As much as I’m loving my time here, I miss home, my routines, and my communities. Come December 16th I will be back in NYC and am excited to see you soon!!

Abracci e baci,

Bianca

Each time I sit down to write this email it feels harder and harder to synthesize my stories, thoughts, and reflections. I’ve tasted too many delicious home-made recipes—both creative and impressively simple—to pick just one. I’ve smelled the most refreshing crisp air in the Alps and filled my nose with the most pungent of garlic aromas. I’ve enjoyed watercolor-like scenes of foliage, creatively-designed lights in the night sky, and gasp-worthy views of mountains in the distance. I’ve connected with strangers both shockingly generous with their snacks and unnecessarily insistent on sharing their marmalade recommendations. I’ve wandered into so many thrift stores that I thought a coat rack in a cultural center was a thrift store. I will certainly struggle to keep this email brief!

Let me start by setting the scene. Last I wrote to you, I had just moved homes and started living with a new host family in a nearby neighborhood called San Salvario. Like my last host family, their home is filled to the brim with impressively healthy plants and the brightest natural light possible (a skylight on the 5th floor will help you with that). The mother Francesca is a professor of neuroscience at the University of Torino, wakes up at 6:45AM every day to walk her two energetic border collies for an hour, and is very generous with her time, attention, and love. The father Luca is a sustainability-focused mechanical engineer by day and an activist by night; he always brings home fresh produce from their farm in the country-side so that we can all cook creative, healthy, and efficient meals together. Their son Pietro is a sweet yet quiet soul, in his last year of high school (so he’s currently figuring out what he wants to study since you have to decide before going to university), and is a rockstar on a competitive swim team. Luca’s mother Elena is a special person in this family who I’ll talk about more soon.

Our first full day together we adventured to the Alps! Early on Sunday, we drove an hour and a half to a small village called Bonzo where we began our trek up the mountain. It was a windy and foggy morning, but the snow had freshly coated the tips of the mountains the night before. Francesca has a daughter around my age who is married with an adorable 2 year-old son, so they met us to all hike together. On our journey up through the foliage, I learned about Francesca's neuroscience lab and different research projects. I described the brief cognitive music research I did in college and we immediately bonded over our shared love of the brain. At the top, we stopped to picnic for lunch at a vast, open field, and then took our sweet time coming down the mountain as the sun began to set. We ended the day in Francesca's mom's cottage, warming up next to a wood-burning heater. We drank tea out of a proper teapot and snacked on sweet torcettini, a type of biscuit made with miele (honey) from the Alps. I chatted with her mother and found that my Italian thrives best when talking with the elderly. They're patient, kind, and don't know English, so I was forced to speak Italian. I could go on and keep describing what we ate for dinner, but know that it was the kind of day that truly filled me up inside and out.

A big part of my near-daily routine has been going to this family-owned gym called "Ginnic Life" (I have no clue why it has this name). Every time I go, I see the same, regular faces so we've become familiar and friendly with each other. We started chatting about our workouts, then about our interests, and with one person, we bonded over tennis. When I was offered to join them for a lesson, I jumped at the chance to finally play (it's one of the biggest sports here!). Now we've been playing tennis every Tuesday and Thursday with Coach Bepe on clay courts right next to the Po River! My forehand is slowly but surely getting better...

Recently I received a coveted invitation to join the University of Torino’s neuroscience lab for lunch. I met and chatted with PhD students, post-docs, and full-time researchers. All but one are women (!!), and a couple of them are doing fascinating research on prenatal babies’ behavioral development. I learned that both canoeing and coffee have been scientifically proven to improve your arithmetic skills. When asked if I wanted to participate in an experiment measuring tactile and auditory responses in the brain, I immediately said yes and followed them to the lab. That afternoon they used EEG to measure my brain waves while I tapped a table after getting zapped by an electric buzzer or hearing a beep (or both). I wore this very silly cap and learned that I have a perfect brain (jk, my results matched their hypothesis!).

Another lovely highlight to share is that my partner Barry came to visit Turin for a weekend! Around three weeks into living here, I shared in a voice memo that I was feeling a bit lonely in the evenings, missing a friend to go out with and share aperitivo. When he heard this, he immediately booked tickets to come see me for Halloween weekend and we did not waste one minute once he arrived! It brought me so much joy to share my favorite spots and routines with him, like pointing out the schools where I teach, walking through Parco del Valentino where I run every week, and taking him to my favorite bakeries and cafes. His visit also gave me an excuse to check out a couple fancy restaurants and cafes I’d been eyeing for a special occasion. We were surprised to find that dipping focaccia in your cappuccino is actually a delightful sweet and savory combo. We visited the original cafe where they created bicerin (a traditional hot drink consisting of three unmixed layers of espresso, hot chocolate, and whipped cream) and thoroughly enjoyed every sip. We dined at a spectacular traditional Piemontese restaurant that delivered the most savory agnolotti yet, stuffed with incredibly tender meat–we had no notes. Another restaurant demonstrated risotto’s true peak and harnessed it as a vehicle for other-wordly flavor goodness–I’m talking 30-month aged parmigiano reggiano and melt-in-your-mouth bone marrow coating the creamy risotto. Did I mention we love food?

(Thank you Barry for flying all the way to Italy for just 3 days and for seriously powering through the jet lag!!)

One morning I received a text from Luca's mother Elena asking me to join her for a stroll in the countryside. Her family owns part of a farm in a nearby town called Moncalieri and they used to live there years ago. At 2pm after school that day, Elena picked me up in her red Panda car and we drove to the farm to enjoy sandwiches and little pastries on a bench while admiring the view. As I stumbled through my Italian, I learned that she was a very competitive swimmer when she was younger, setting record Italian race times and even went to the Olympics! When I asked her if she was proud to be Italian, she said no and that national pride can create divisions between countries; instead, she told me that she's proud to be a human on this planet. If you met this woman, you'd think she was a decade younger than her true age given her vibrant, spirited personality and ease at which she walked through the hilly forest. At the end of our stroll, we neared her friend Anita's home and knocked on her door to say hello. Within seconds, we were sitting at Anita's dining room table with another one of her friends, saying yes to espressos and biscotti. As these three nonnas and I yapped away, talking louder and louder over each other, I felt like I was living a true Italian sitcom. We said our goodbyes so Elena and I could finally make our way to the vegetable garden to harvest cavolfiori (cauliflower), lattuga (lettuce), and cicoria (dandelion greens). We even popped by the small barn to say hello to the chickens, geese, and rabbits. Finally at golden hour, she finished her tour of the farm as we admired the stunning red-orange-yellow leaves from the permission trees. I wish I had more photos to share, but I think this afternoon was the most relaxed, present, and at peace I've felt the entire year.

The final memory I must share with you was my reunion with the Soffioni family. During my first week and a half in Italy, I volunteered at an organic vegetable farm in a town called Buttigliera d’Asti, and the family who owns this farm invited me back for a traditional bagna cauda dinner. They picked me up at the train station and gave me the biggest hug as if no time had passed at all! I can’t tell you how lovely it was to have this feeling of coming home, of reuniting with people who made me feel like family. The way bagna cauda works is that you clean and cut a bunch of vegetables (imagine grilled king oyster mushrooms, roasted bell peppers, the freshest of radishes, cabbage, fennel, broccoli, roasted cauliflower, soft potatoes, pumpkin, and more), and then create this beautiful concoction of olive oil, garlic, and anchovies blended together (algae if you’re vegetarian or vegan). So how was bagna cauda on a vegetable farm that specializes in garlic? It was an absolutely ELECTRIC feast! Like fondue but kilometers better (see what I did there). We also enjoyed local cheeses, cured meats, fresh bread, chocolate salami (don’t worry there wasn’t actual meat in this), and several bottles of red wine. Many friends of the family (I had met my first time on the farm) joined for dinner, as well as two other farm volunteers. By midnight we were full of food, wine, stories, and laughter, and unfortunately, our breaths reeked of garlic.

About two weeks ago, I noticed the days have been going by faster and faster. I think it’s because I’ve settled into a routine in this city–going to school, the gym, tennis, dinner with my host families and new friends. I know how to walk around Turin without a map now. As I walk to and from school, I’ve started noticing the same faces with similar schedules. I’ve even built a rapport with the barista who makes my coffee at a cafe near the tennis courts.

Crazy enough, I only have a week and a half left teaching in Turin before I leave for my next adventure in Italy. I’m sad to leave this city I’ve grown to know and love, but I realized I’ve already answered so many questions I had about teaching. My main thoughts are:

- I appreciate and respect teaching so much. It’s an incredibly important job and a difficult one to do well. I love the moments connecting with students, chatting in breakout groups or in the hallway. I love witnessing them be curious, intrigued, or excited when they learn something new

- I think I’m actually pretty good at teaching (and the other teachers have told me I’m quite natural and confident in the classroom!)

- Given all that, I don’t want to fully jump into a career of teaching now. I think it’s missing an element of creativity that I’m craving (not that teaching doesn’t require creativity! I just miss making things). But I strongly believe this path is something I’d like to do when I’m older

Some general reflections while I’ve been here:

- I’ve realized the lens in which I view myself and how I believe others view me is quite negative. I’m slowly changing it to be filled with kindness and positivity

- At this point, I’ve convinced myself that if I move to a brand new city, I am capable of making new friends and building a community. But starting from scratch here sure as heck made me grateful for the relationships I have back home, because those kind of special communities and connections take a long time to build

- Saying yes leads to a much more memorable life

- People love helping, so let them help you

- You don’t pay for a new shirt with your money, you’re paying with your time (you spent working)

- If you’re okay making mistakes, it’s easier to learn

- A language barrier doesn’t mean there will be a relationship barrier

- I think the greatest joys in life are when you bring people together (and doing so consistently and often). Life isn’t meant to be lived alone

Okay this email is far too long! Thanks for reading and sticking along for the ride. Sending lots of love to you all. I hope you’re enjoying the Fall foliage and leaning into the coziness of the season. Ciao ciao for now!

Abbracci e baci,

Bianca

After exactly a month of living in Italy, a fantastic thing occurred—I dreamt in Italian for the first time! I’m learning so much of the language through speaking with my host family, non-English teachers at school, random elderly folk, people in cafes, restaurants, and stores (even though they speak back to me in English, I stand my ground and continue in Italian). Outside of that, I’ve also been spending my free time studying Italian vocabulary and grammar, watching TVs and movies in Italian with Italian subtitles, AND I started using this language exchange app called “Tandem”. I finally made a friend my age named Ilaria through this app, and we’ve been meeting over coffee to practice my Italian and her English (and sharing some great music too—that’s how I discovered “Aglio e Olio“ and “Pesto“ are actual songs, but “Casomai“ is probably my favorite so far). In just over a month, I’ve improved so much more than I ever did in one semester of Italian in college.

After saying the wrong Italian phrase upon leaving a store the other day (near this square pictured above), the owner (a stubborn old man with a long and curvy mustache) was determined that I understand Italian greetings. Here is a mini lesson on what I learned:

- If it’s anytime of day when the sun is shining, it’s acceptable to say “Buon giorno”. You can say “Buona giornata” when you leave a place

- If it’s after 4pm, however, most folks start using “Buonasera” when they greet each other (even if it’s light out). You can use “Buona serata” when leaving

- If it’s past 10pm or the last time you’ll see someone for the evening, say “Buona notte”

I’m writing to you at the halfway point of my time teaching English in Torino. After the first two weeks of only introducing myself in classes, I started teaching several new lessons these past two weeks which made my days increasingly more interesting:

- Explain what it’s like to live and work in NYC as 2nd years are focusing on work experience and CVs (we also listened to “Empire State of Mind“)

- Read Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall” and explore walls as a theme with 3rd years (I decided to share a song from Hadestown the musical, “Why we build the wall“ aptly suited for the lesson)

- Talk about gender discrimination in the workplace, in travel, in families, and generally in the world with 3rd years

- Discuss the American Civil War and listen to “Civil War“ by Guns N Roses with 4th years

- Teach Transcendentalism through Prince’s song “Walk don’t Walk“ and Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of the Open Road“ with 5th years

- Bring awareness to the history of Native Americans, how they’ve been prisoners of war, and how it’s shaped American history (a really moving TED talk here if you’re interested)

As you can probably tell, I’ve enjoyed bringing music into the classroom! I use songs as a listening comprehension exercise where the students need to fill in missing lyrics. For 75% of the classes, I’ve been preparing class activities by myself, so I’m honestly re-learning a lot about American history and becoming a pro at printing and photocopying using an old-time printer. I didn’t expect to be teaching Italian students about the American Civil War, Transcendentalism, or Native American history, but here I am simultaneously teaching and learning. It’s neat that students are not only learning the English language but also getting exposure to American and British history and culture. But am I the most equipped to be teaching these topics? Who knows, but they trust me more than I expected!

Some fun things I’ve been up to outside the classroom:

- Attended live Baroque music with an average audience age of 72

- Checked out some pretty incredible photography. I saw an exhibit on Lee Miller depicting the post-World War 2 era and the World Press Photo exhibition with other teachers in the city

- Bought many beautiful and exotic plants with my host family

- Attended dinner parties with new friends and friends of my host family (the Italians really know how to bring people together and make it look effortless!)

- Danced at the disco and seeing some cool underground DJs (it surprised me to find that people up to their 70s go to the club here!)

- Wandered museums like Egizio (the world's 2nd biggest Egyptian museum), the Cinema museum, and the Palazzina di Caccia di Stupinigi (an old palace in the countryside)

- Met other internationals and Italians at meetup events to practice Italian

- Joined an Italian gym and learning that Janik Sinner was recently there

- Learned that the return policy at some Italian stores does not work the same way as it does in America (you get a credit on a piece of paper that can only be used at certain stores, weird)

- Attended an Italian stand-up comedy show. I crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t be picked out, but we caught the emcee’s attention when my friend translated some jokes for me. Eventually my American identity was leaked

- More thrift shopping than I can to admit at the local flea markets and vintage stores

- Attended a food festival called Buonissimo where they had little snacks and a free wine tasting

Last weekend, one of my dear friends Hélène from Switzerland visited me in Torino and we had a ball exploring the city together! The time I’ve spent here so far made me a pretty solid tour guide... we enjoyed late-night aperitivo, sipped on bicerin (a classic Piemonte drink with whipped cream, coffee, and chocolate), ate tramezzino (small, crustless sandwiches), splurged on fancy Piemonte food like Vitello Tonnato and Agnolotti, rode a transparent glass elevator up to the top of the Mole Antonelliana to get 360 degree views of the city, wandered an autumnal festival eating everything in our path, and had an easy, continuous flow of conversation through it all, reflecting on our past selves and how we’ve changed over the years. Even though I’m surrounded by so many people here, the last couple weeks have felt a bit lonely at times, or rather, missing the people with whom I’ve built strong connections. It nourished my soul to have quality friend time with someone I’ve known since I was 16!

Another notable memory was just the other night—the last night with my host family before switching homes—where they surprised me at the coziest and most charming osteria in the city: an Abruzzese restaurant called “Da Giannino”. Simply mentioning my family is from Abruzzo has led to some of the kindest and most thoughtful moments here. For antipasti, they wanted me to try Olive all’Ascolana (olives stuffed with meat) and Pallotte Cacio e Ova (cheese and egg balls made with pecorino), and of course we had to eat Arrosticini (traditional meat skewers). For primi, I tried a Melanzane Ricotta Guanciale pasta bigger than my face (I could not finish it which was a first for me). And for dolci, we shared Cantucci which is a plate of biscotti that you dip in a sweet orange wine called Vin Santo. With an iconic Montepulciano d’Abruzzo wine paired with dinner, the walls decked out with old photos and clocks from Abruzzo, picnic-style red and white checkered tablecloths, and classic Italian banter pouring throughout the restaurant, it was a night to remember.

As a fun, little send-off: did you know dogs are allowed in nearly all Italian restaurants?! This little guy (Muzzi) joined us everywhere we ate out :) Catch you in a couple weeks for my next update - ciao ciao for now!

Abracci e baci,

Bianca

PS I finally learned what this hand gesture actually means...

It means, “What do you want from me?!” and absolutely nothing else

Ciao ciao ciao!

In my almost three weeks here, I wrapped up my time on the vegetable farm and started teaching high schoolers English in Turin. How is it going by so fast?!

If it wasn’t clear from my first email, food has been an absolute highlight so far (and continues to be). At this point, it feels like I’ve eaten my body weight in pasta, risotto, and focaccia. I’ve come to fully appreciate anchovies and raw beef, which young Bianca would’ve never dared to try. And I finally tried an Abruzzo tradition of grilling arrosticini on a furnacella, stuffing myself with over 20 skewers of beef, chicken, and mushrooms.

When I told my farm host family that I love to cook, they overwhelmingly leaned in to sharing classic Piemonte recipes (like Vitello Tonnato which is boiled beef with a tuna/anchovy/caper/mayonnaise sauce) and their versions of ragu lasagna, pesto, bruschetta, the list goes on. For my last evening, they imported the arrosticini straight from Abruzzo (where my father’s family is from) to grill and have a party! I felt so grateful to be surrounded by such welcoming and thoughtful people in just my first week.

The most surprising learning on the farm was simply seeing how fast vegetables can grow in the right environment. A couple afternoons it rained on the farm, leading to impressive growth in the cabbage patch. There’s only a 5 day difference between these two photos below! Also, zucchinis simply blew my mind. I picked every possible zucchini to sell in the produce stand, and somehow the next day there would be enough zucchinis to fill two baskets again. And don’t get me started on how much they grew from Friday to Monday...

Goodbye Buttigliera d’Asti and hello to Turin! (check out the Alps in the background of both photos!)

My first day in Turin was somehow filled with even more adventures! My host father Alessandro immediately met me with kindness and open arms at Porto Nuova train station. We walked back to their home in the historical city center which was filled to the brim with thriving plants, excellent lighting, and some of the best interior design I’ve ever seen (makes sense since my host mother used to be a designer). Within minutes, Alessandro took me on his motorcycle to shop at Porto Palazzo–the biggest open air market in Europe–to get ingredients for dinner (he used to be a chef and never disappoints family dinners). The produce here is clearly coming straight from the farm, of such high quality, and extremely affordable–we got 1kg of spinach for less than 2 euros! After walking around, what initially sounded like an offer to get an espresso turned into an offer to share a sweet Vermouth in the tiniest bar called “Vermuttino”. I felt like Lizzy McGuire zooming through Turin on the back of his motorcycle as we headed back to my new home (don’t worry Mom, I wore a helmet!)

The afternoon was filled with the sweet sound of John Coltrane playing on their record player. My host mother Germana is a veterinarian and avid plant lover, so she took me on a tour of all her beautiful plants both indoor and outdoor. Our very first dinner included one of their friends Maurizio who didn’t speak much English, so I practiced my Italian, proud at how much I’ve already improved. We dined over delicious agnolotti, bagna càude, vitello tonnato, and sipped on local wine as we chatted long into the evening. Day 1 of Turin left me feeling so grateful to be placed with such a kind, upbeat, energetic family in such a beautiful city.

I won’t go into every detail, but so far I’ve spent a lot of my free time exploring the large piazzas, beautiful indoor gallerias, striking churches, and open air markets. I’ve tried Ligurian focaccia, seafood, and Piemonte desserts with other English teachers in my high school. And shockingly, I’ve almost become a regular espresso drinker in the mornings.

Walking or running along the Po river and through Parco del Valentino has nearly become a daily routine. Fun fact: rowing is very popular in Turin! The city feels very reminiscent of Boston for this reason. Also, if you didn’t know, Italy is now #1 in the world for men’s and women’s volleyball. Just the other day I took a nice long walk with my host sister Elsa along the river and she caught me in the beautiful sunset.

You’re probably wondering–how is teaching going?! Honestly, it’s been exhausting yet rewarding. Every 2 weeks, I’m scheduled to teach 36 different classes across 3 different campus buildings (all 10 minutes apart from each other) with students aged 15-18. This means that I’ve been giving the exact same introduction presentation over and over and over, but through this repetition, I’ve learned some interesting facts about the student body at Liceo Scientifico Gobetti high school. For example, students mostly play soccer (they call it “calcio” here), volleyball, tennis, and row. The most popular boy names are Federico, Alessandro, Leonardo, and Francesco and the most popular girl name I’ve encountered is Alice. Most students do not practice Catholicism or any kind of religion for that matter (I blindly assumed Italy was still quite Catholic). Students don’t mind having six classes straight from 8am to 2pm, with only two 10 minute breaks. Before school, most students skip breakfast or eat cookies, and after school, most go home to eat lunch with their entire family at 2:30/3pm. At this point, I could do a deep dive into the education system differences between Italy and America, but I don’t want to bore you.

What’s given me joy in teaching so far is meeting all the sincerely kind students and teachers. They are eager to answer my questions about Italian culture, ask me questions about NYC and US politics, and generally are very welcoming, light-hearted, and curious. I’m impressed by their level of speaking–the students’ English is much better than my Spanish was in high school. My time teaching so far has already increased my respect for teachers ten-fold. You don’t get energy from the students but really need to manifest energy yourself to keep students engaged in the classroom. It’s a job that requires you to be “on” all day long, which is not something my previous job demanded of me. This work is certainly a new kind of challenge, but I think it’s also bringing me more moments of light each day.

I’ll leave you with some fun photos of the night I cooked my host family a Korean dinner, the afternoon I baked biscotti with my host sister, and the dinner party where Elsa intently showed us all the “boni” (hot, cool boys) in her class.

If you got this far, thank you for reading my long email (oops). It’s still only the beginning of my time here so I’m sure many thoughts, feelings, and reflections will continue to evolve and change. Who knows, maybe Abroad will change me!

Love,

Bianca

Hello my dear family and friends,

My blood is filled with pizza and pasta as I write to you. I’ve only been here since Thursday, but it feels like an eternity since I’ve arrived with my adventure-filled days, so I wanted to share some of the first highlights!

This week I’m currently living in Buttigliera d’Asti (45min south of Turin) and working on an organic vegetable farm growing cabbage, zucchini, trumpet zucchini, eggplants, tomatoes, sweet peppers, kale, broccoli, red and green lettuce, basil, garlic, onions, shallots, and hazelnuts. The parents, Federico and Manuela, have been extremely welcoming and kind, teaching me how to harvest vegetables, giving me tips in Italian, and sharing useful cooking tips (like don’t add pesto to your pasta when it’s piping hot, or else the color will get darker and the texture will get worse). They have a very cute little dog named Selkie—his name comes from the Italian half human/half seal creature (apparently he looked like a seal when he was born).

Working on this farm has been fascinating, educational, and colorful so far. I’ve learned how to properly harvest vegetables for their produce stand, added organic fertilizer to the cabbage patch, and cleaned hundreds (maybe a thousand) of garlic heads already. I learned that if you can smell garlic before peeling the skin, it’s bad. The kale is so fresh it almost looks purple. Basil shouldn’t be cut from the very bottom so it can continue to grow. Eggplant has very thorny leaves on top so you should pick them from the bottom. On the farm they grow native plants and flowers on the perimeter of the crops to promote soil diversity; they also change where each crop is planted each year in order to confuse the bugs that want to eat the plants.

My first evening on the farm I learned that Federico bought 2 female ducks to accompany the 4 lonely male ducks in the local town’s pond. Along with him, his 11 year old son Leonardo, and 4 year old daughter Alice, we let these ducks roam free into the pond at dusk. Afterward, we picked up local pizza for dinner as a tradition for any volunteer’s first night. I picked a pesto/mortadella/burrata pizza that was so fresh, I got to put the burrata on the pizza myself. Delicioso! That night I learned “pepperoni” in Italian means sweet peppers, not the spicy sausage you expect to see. Apparently Italians get very confused by “pepperoni pizza” outside of Italy!

Besides the first night, most meals have been cooked and eaten all together, and they always use fresh produce from their farm, whether it’s lettuce to make a salad, zucchini and eggs to make a frittata (they have a chicken coop too!), or tomatoes, garlic, and basil to make bruschetta. Slowly but surely, I’m making my way into their kitchen to help cook and share recipes. Something I love about mealtime here is that they don’t rush eating and go on to the next thing, but instead they take their time to chew, chat, chew some more, and chat even longer.

On Sunday, Federico and Manuela represented their farm at a festival in a nearby village. I borrowed their bike to check it out. While my 20 minute ride was quiet, I passed beautiful, bright green pastures, tall mounds of hay, and wheat fields almost as tall as me. The Arignano festival was everything you’d imagine to be a farmer’s market in the Italian country-side. It was sprawling with farmers and craftsmen selling their vegetables, meats, cheeses, pottery and baskets beneath a beautiful medieval castle. These men appeared out of nowhere and started playing traditional Piemonte music and singing tight harmonies. The local nonnas were serving heaping plates of ravioli, agnolotti, and penne for 5 euro a plate. If you don’t know my love for music, food, or markets, you should know my heart was bursting with joy.

There’s so much more to say, but I won’t drag on. Last thing I’ll share–cleaning garlic is teaching me to let go of my perfectionism. When Federico showed me how to prepare the garlic bulbs, I tried too meticulously (and thus too slowly) to unravel the layers before exposing the cloves. He stopped me and said, “It doesn’t need to be perfect. Also, people won’t think they’re organic”.

Fresh pesto and Italian mosquitos,

Bianca