Something special about this city. It made me feel love.
Waking up to church bells, taking a well deserved shower (heat!), walking my way to Giovanni Cova & Co and having the usual. Macchiato, chocolate croissant, and a little dessert. What is my route today? Visiting Triennale? Biking my way to Navigli? Shopping at Brera? No matter what, I loved not rushing. In every single city I visited, I ran between the important places to must see. One week is pretty long for Milan, but that’s the beauty. I wasn’t a tourist there, I lived the city. I ate at local restaurants. I biked everywhere. I drank mineral water. Spoke a little italian. Had lots of coffees and pastas. I felt home, maybe more than my actual home. This made me question the concept of home really. Is it the place, the people, the language or the feeling. I guess it is the feeling. You can be alone interrailing but feeling home if you are happy. I didn’t want to come back. I am living in New York now, the biggest city, the capital of the world, the big apple. I lived 20 years in a chaotic city like Istanbul, and moved to another. Between these, Milan was a bliss. I know I will go there next year. I know I might actually live there later. I know there will be tons of cities that I will fall in love to. But this is my first. The first city I fell in love, I felt so happy. You don’t forget your firsts.