When people ask “what was your favorite day ever?” I’ve never had an answer. It’s not that I didn't have a favorite day ever, I’m sure I have but my mind seemed to always run blank. A thing I do is “bookmarking” memories, or trying to at least. I want to catalog every detail of the specific moment. It’s almost as if, instead of living presently in that moment, I’m expecting it to leave me. I’m consciously trying to remember it, before fully living it. I’ve wondered, if I remember everything so vividly, how do I not know my favorite day? But, as I was sitting in this one night in particular, I knew this was it. I was living my favorite night ever. I knew with every part of my being because I wasn’t bookmarking anything. I wasn’t trying to catalog this memory into my brain, I wasn’t telling myself to remember this, I just knew I was going to. And that was the confirmation, and truth that I needed.
So this is my favorite night ever:
I’ve been in Italy for no longer than a week and already need something more exciting (granted I had just practically left my job and flew halfway around the world with no return ticket or plan). Time to book a train ticket to Milan to head out on my first real solo adventure! Despite the language barrier and lack of itinerary, I had no doubt that this was where I needed to be.
Only hours after the decision was made I arrived in this beautiful, grandiose train station full of European stores, small cafe’s (and bathrooms that you have to pay to use - which was the one minor inconvenience at the time). I stepped outside into a dark summer night. The air was warm but thankfully with a swift enough breeze to cool me down from the over-stimulation of finding myself outside Milano Centrale (not the safest place to be for any solo female, let alone a fully American one). There were rows and rows of vespas parked, large rowdy groups of Italian chain smokers marking their territory against the other Italian chain smokers and of course in every city we have the (too) pushy street vendors and cat callers - only now we have no freaking idea what they’re saying in the first place. After walking in a few circles - like literally walking around the same block and finding myself in front of the train station time after time, I found my hostel. My very first hostel stay. Now this was a big moment. I remember sitting in my best friend's room watching “How to Travel Cheap” YouTube videos and fantasizing about our stays in various hostels during big foreign excursions in our twenties. And here I was.. drinking complimentary wine from my hostel surrounded by a bunch of strangers all speaking vastly different languages.
I had made a friend and we had planned to meet back downstairs in 5 minutes to go out to some bars - let's just mention how long it took to make these plans as her accent was so thick from a language I hardly even recognized. Still, we persevered through with a lot of question mark faces and friendly laughs. Maybe a little google translate too, shamelessly. I walk into my room with my assigned bunk bed and locker for the night. Not bad and nothing to comment on. Literally just bunk beds and a locker to hold your expected one bag with a simple bathroom. I changed real fast into my favorite thrifted shirt. The wine was starting to tingle its way through my body now and my cheeks were flushed, with both excitement and alcohol. We met downstairs timely, however plans quickly changed as we ordered a couple glasses of wine too many, and got distracted and pulled away more and more from our plans. The hostel itself was its own party.
We were suddenly outside on the rooftop, originally looking to seek out something undisturbed with a beautiful view and fresh air (probably feeling a bit queasy now) but instead finding ourselves in a crowd of people, from all across the globe. I got pulled into this one group almost immediately because this one New Yorker knew I was also from over there. Well, New Jersey (same thing?). Somehow everyone always seemed to know I was from the east coast, which was quite shocking to me. I made friends quickly, and even exchanged some flirty looks. Lets not forget - the wine kept coming. This entire time I am going through glasses, being offered glasses, and splitting bottles with my new friends. We can safely say everyone on this rooftop was definitely having a good time. I mean we were in the center of Milan on a summer night, finally able to travel again and meet interesting people after COVID had locked down all of the borders - especially Italy’s. Everyone seemed surprised to see an American too (I guess because of the travel restrictions) but what struck me the most is how well everyone spoke English. We’re taught all of our lives that America has the best education system- meanwhile here I am with 10 years of Spanish and 4 years of French under my belt and still barely knowing how to count to 10 in either.
I walk inside to find this random game room. I sit down at this table playing cards because duh, I’m the master at any card game. Obviously I forgot to consider that we would be playing a game I’ve never heard of with a bunch of Portuguese teenagers who don’t speak much English. The two girls would help me the best they could when it was my turn but despite their good intentions, it wasn’t much help. I was less for the game anyways, and more for the opportunity. I was so happy to be sitting in that circle with their Portuguese friend group, not knowing anything they were saying but laughing with them anyways because I was just so happy to be there, with them. I knew I didn’t belong, but for one game I allowed myself too. By the end of it there was even a small piece of me saying I could, I could belong here.
Fast forward a bottle of wine and a couple of inappropriate decisions made later, and here we are. Realizing we are in the night. Everyone has started dwindling out, yawns are being made and things are slowing down. For some reason everyone can speak each other's languages too, or maybe all the wine confused me into thinking it all morphed into one. I was sitting now with my two best friends I made over that night. One was a girl a couple years older than me from Amsterdam. We had realized there were both Gemini suns Sagittarius moons and that started a friendship that has still stayed alive. She loves to travel too and we have so much in common. The other was an American boy, you could tell he was just trying to find himself too in this crazy world, just like me. I was sitting there, sweaty and now dizzy, not knowing what anyone around me is saying but I may be drunk enough now to feel like I do. In the midst of all their laughs, and country - comparing, I was feeling. I wasn’t thinking, but feeling. I finally had that feeling I’ve been seeking for. I finally just allowed myself to be fully present for once, instead of anticipating the end. I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. That night I felt so free. I was just so myself there. I could’ve been anybody I wanted to be that night, but I chose me - present me. I felt more like myself talking to strangers in a foreign land than at home with people I’ve known forever.
Now if you were to ask me about my experience the morning after? The only three words I have bookmarked are severe, migraine, and death.
beautiful words
Sounds amazing.