I am in
Italy, on vacation. Staying at my parents' house, and trying to understand the way I feel towards this country (or, more specifically, towards this particular part of the country, between
Milano and
Parma).
Would I want to live here again ? It is difficult to say. At times, these days, I felt as if I were not really here, as if this was just a dream with the reality/insanity of
Mexico City (the place where I have been living for the last year and a half) hiding just around the corner.
My girlfriend is here too, and I see that she looks at me with worry. She clearly sees that I may take a sudden and important decision.
Living in Mexico is OK, there is no complaint. But maybe I would like to be somewhere (and with someone) that is more than OK, in fact I would like to live in a way that is fucking great, not just OK.
On the other hand, the country has been good to me (it even force me to write on becoming a boss). Nonetheless, it is not my country, and despite all the adaptation effort I do, I strongly suspect that it will never be.
So, what happens is that I define myself by my otherness, which is certainly a peculiar way of life, and an occasionally tiring one.
I feel suspended. In this I am helped by the weather, which is the typical Padania weather for late summer: warm, humid and very hazy. The sky is more white than blue, there is no wind, birds chirp. How different from the definite Mexico City weather, where it is either hot and dry and sunny, or pouring rain.
Anyway, my parents want the phone line back. Loggin out for today, will write more later. And I have written a postcard for ideath :-)