At around 16.00 on the 27th September 2009, my train pulled into Perugia. I exited the station and stood there confused. A taxi driver saw his opportunity and took me to my new address for an extremely high price. I called my new flatmate and asked him to let me in but he was out playing football. I sat on my suitcase and waited for him to come back. When we went up to the flat, my room wasn’t ready.
3 years and one day later, it was with no small amount of excitement that I got off the train at Perugia. I went up to the station-centre shuttle, put my 1 euro 50 into the slot, got my ticket, went through the barriers, up the stairs and onto the mini-metro. After the second stop, I looked up out of the front window as the town came into view, which I knew would make me smile. Another four minutes, I reached the centre and walked up the escalators. I was sweaty and groggy from a long journey so was keen to keep my head down and dodge socialising for the time being, but I bumped into two people during the short walk across town, ‘Bentornata!’ - ‘Welcome back!’
My friends were waiting for me in my favourite bar, I freshened up and we headed out for aperitivo in my other favourite bar. The fun rolled in a way that only Perugia can deliver. I’ll drop the detail because you’ve got the picture - it was 42 hours of effortless, comfortable happiness.
It had been nearly a month since I’d seen anyone I know. Now, it would be a gross misrepresentation to see loneliness, nostalgia or homesickness as a notable feature of the early stage of my Sicilian experience. However, new beginnings, for all the excitement and rewards that they do provide, are strenuous. In Perugia, though, I could not have felt more at home. I was surrounded by the easy company of my friends, it was great to catch up, and I laughed until my sides hurt.
After the blind happiness of the anticipation and the arrival, I found I was juggling a strange mixture of feelings. Familiarity is comforting. Comfort and familiarity are, I guess, two sides of the same coin. New starts are exhilarating, challenging, unpredicable, and by their very nature unfamiliar and unsettling. If I had wanted to, I could have spent 2012-3 back in Perugia, but the unfamiliar reaps rewards; if we get too comfortable, we stop learning. But when I arrived in Perugia, it was like the part of me that had been working overtime to adapt to my new life breathed a sigh of relief. I have every belief in what I’m doing in Sicily, but being in Perugia was like balm for my soul. I relaxed fully for the first time in the month, and it was bliss.
I found leaving Perugia this time a real case of mind vs. heart. My mind hasn’t for a moment believed I made a wrong choice in my year abroad destination, but these thoughts couldn’t touch the lump in my throat as I felt like I was being thrown out of home.
I guess the balance between comfort and change is an issue that follows us around forever. This wasn’t a serious crisis of confidence, my craving for familiarity hasn’t been strong enough to contaminate the good thing I’ve got going with Modica, but it’s not always easy to know how much we should put ourselves out of our comfort zone. Comfort makes us happy, but it’s dangerous: in the end it’s the new experiences that make us learn, and the it’s the learning experiences that make us most happy in the long run. I remember very well how full of challenges my new Perugia life was three years ago and we all know how well that turned out. But, you know, it’s really nice to spend your time with your friends and family, doing a job or a course you’re good at and living in a place you know like the back of your hand. What I mean is that you don’t always feel like doing something really new, and it’s not like I can keep on moving to a new European city hoping it’s the best way for me to grow as a person and learn about the world. It’s difficult to know when it’s best to stick with the good thing you’ve got going on, and when you’re getting stagnant and it’s time to change.
My plane landed in Catania, Sicily, at 16.35 on the 2nd October 2012, the airline was lucky to have made up a careless delay leaving Rome. Upon exiting the airport, I found out there was a transport strike, but nobody could tell me whether there would be a bus to Modica or not. I got back in the end, much later and by a roundabout route. I felt a weary resignation to the situation rather than stress. Arriving back to Modica, I felt relief, not just at the journey being over but because I could sleep in my own bed in my little apartment. I drafted this post in the little bar I live next to, having been welcomed back by the waiter. I’m writing this up after popping into school and being greeted with a load of confusion, nobody seems to know what I should be doing and everyone who deals with me is somewhere else, my mentor isn’t back till the 12th October. I’ll explain some other time. It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not anything I can’t handle. It’s a fine balance, getting yourself some interesting and rewarding challenges that keep you on the end of the seat but don’t make you fall off.
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