How lit Italy really was: part one

How do I even start this? From the moment I was trekking those steep hills of Roncegno? Walking to the Lake in Levico Terme? Getting lost in Venice and getting this slight paranoia as to how narrow their roads were (they were more like alley ways really, the roads were canals)? Or getting the culture shock of my life when I walked out of the train in Milan and above me was a huge archway with cherubs and a Dolce and Gabbana ad greeting me with high-end fashion that I simply heard about.


I’m telling you, it’s hard writing this. Because that was how epic Italy was. Or as my millennial mind will allow me to describe it. It was freaking lit. So my alter ego and I have decided that we’ll start this from the moment I left the continent and I was seated next to this Muslim woman from Jeddah and her beautiful child that was so tamed, the word disciplined was an understatement. She was going to America for a better life. That’s the moral of my plane ride. It was the sign to the beginning of an adventure. And mine was in Europe, in the land of pasta, wine and people that smoked a lot.

That was one of the most evident things. The people (not everybody of course) smoked a lot, age didn’t matter. But can I blame them? The place was freezing when I got there. It was -4 degrees and my Kenyan-self had never experienced temperatures below 15. But the best part of this cold weather was the snow. Damn snow is pretty. From the window. When you touch it, it’s like putting your hand in the fridge for half an hour. My fingers were in shock and my glove was the only comfort I had. Then my pocket. So yeah, I had this epic relationship between my hand, my glove and my pocket. However, the biggest question is: Did I slide on the ice? The answer is: Yes. Twice.


Far from my icing my ass, I met people. Yep, there’s that aspect. As stupidly as I put it. I didn’t just go there to wander in Milan and hope the gondola didn’t sink in Venice while I sat in it and the dude in the movie-depicted striped jacket rowed me to Saint Mark’s square. I worked in a community, I taught teenagers English for five weeks. And let me be honest, cause on paper, I tend to be bolder with my thoughts. My alter ego thinks so too. Those kids were wild. Class was like a tornado and a tsunami had a child and that kid was on Thanos level 9, because Thanos himself is on level 10. But these kids were that good. And the funniest part was I couldn’t get mad, because the moment these kids tied those aprons and went into the kitchen and food came out. I truly knew I was in a professional school for chefs and servers. Damn I miss that food.

Dear Reader, these kids made awesome food. I used to wait for 12.30 p.m. daily because I knew lunch was going to be worth-it. Appetizer, first course, second course and my favorite part dessert. These kids could whip up a good looking scrumptious high-level chef meal. And I ate everything. It was just that good. But apart from the wonders their hands could make, I got to interact with them. They weren’t just noisy and unruly. They were young, noisy and unruly. Hahahaha. Didn’t see that coming, did you? But seriously, they were awesome. Those that could interact with me, because English isn’t well spoken in the country, were such lovely and interesting students. Shout out to Gaia (might send this to her).

Lastly, did I fulfill my AIESEC mission? Did I fulfil mankind’s potential or did I just eat my way through Italy and not gain weight? You know what? I did it all and so much more. Thank you to AIESEC in Trento of course and Maia, my EP buddy and you dear reader for not thinking I was crazy for having an alter ego, her name is Scarlet. She wanted to be mentioned in the closing credits. Lol.



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