This has been a year of introspection for me. I didn’t write as much as I would’ve liked for both of my blogs. Looking back, I realize now that I needed some time to reassess what I wanted to focus on for each blog. I’ve decided to separate my two blogs even more. My Living in Florence blog will be only about Florence and in this blog I will write more about being an expat.
Me, My Heart, and I
Celebrating ten years in Florence
When I returned to Florence ten years ago today I wasn’t certain that I would stay as long as I have. In my heart, I knew I didn’t want to never leave, but I couldn’t make such decisions alone. After my five-year hiatus in the US, I arrived in Florence accompanied by my then husband. I had never moved anywhere with anyone and I didn’t know how the move would affect us. Over time, my life in Florence became more important to me than anything or anyone else.
Waiting for autumn to arrive
Autumn should have arrived a few weeks ago in both Florence and Paris. When I was in Florence for the past two weeks, the trees still had green leaves on them and only a few had changed colors and had fallen to the ground. I was hopeful to find autumn in full swing. Initially, it was more of an Indian summer.
I love being an expat
I love being an expat so much that I can’t imagine not being one. I love how two cities that were foreign to me and have now become so familiar to me that I consider them home. I love how living overseas has opened me up, changed me, allowed me to grow, and stretched me to be who I was born to be. I love how I have learned to look past the surface. I love how I see people for who they are and not what they do. I love how communicating with someone doesn’t involve only the words he/she says.
Juggling French and Italian
Before returning to Paris for work almost four years ago, I kept my French in my back pocket. I pulled it out when I needed it, but kept Italian as my “main” foreign language for over 10 years. Nowadays, I have to juggle both French and Italian, and on a daily basis. I speak to my beau and my colleagues in French, I speak to my friends in Florence in Italian, and I write in English. It might not sound that difficult, but being fluent in two foreign languages is like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time. It takes concentration, effort, and a bit of fumbling around.
Embracing Florence and Paris
One of the most common questions I’m asked after I explain where I live is, “Aren’t you going to eventually just pick one place?” The oddest part is that I’m never prepared for the question and rarely have a good answer. I’m usually surprised because I didn’t know that I was supposed to pick just one place. I usually try to explain that I didn’t plan my life to be split between two cities, but I do enjoy it.
Adjusting to the rhythm
As I continue to split my life between Florence and a Parisian suburb, I have realized that when I arrive home I have to adjust to the rhythm of each city. It took me some time to find my balance between the two cities and now that I have all of my essentials in both homes, I travel rather lightly only bringing certain things to each home that I like. With a flight is only an hour and a half long, it should be easy for me to adjust. However, I always find myself stumbling a little when I return to France.
Living my dream
During my run yesterday, many thoughts came to mind about my life in Florence and a Parisian suburb. When I talk to my friends, I understand that it looks like a dream to be living between two different countries and be able to speak both Italian and French fluently. I didn’t get to this point in a day; it took many years of persevering. I remember when I was in my university library studying for my French literature class and how all I dreamed about was living in France. In my early twenties, I would’ve been content waiting tables or working in a bookshop just to live in France. Fortunately, I got a hired by a French software company that sent me to Paris. France drew me into its web after I stayed with two different French families (one month each) right after graduating high school. Florence, on the other hand, called to me after only spending three days in its embrace.
Testing out the third arrondissement
After my three-week stint in California, I wasn’t able to settle back into my “normal” life right away. The day after I returned, my beau and I moved into my friend's apartment in the 3rd arrondissement between the Marais and the Place de la République. For six days while she and her family were away, we lived in their Parisian apartment in a typical Haussmann building. Even though I wanted to ground myself after being away so long, I was willing to put that off so we could stay in Paris.