Letters to the Cities: Milan

Dear Milan,

You tested me from the very beginning. I had imagined warm evenings on cobblestone streets, but you met me with rain and cold. I had no jacket fit for your weather, only a flimsy windcheater from the plane. That night, dragging four heavy suitcases through dark, wet streets, I felt your weight pressing down. Even hunger became another trial — a bus stop sat just minutes away, but I didn’t know you well enough to see it. So I walked forty-five minutes in the rain to buy food, wondering if this was how you welcomed all strangers.

The Challenges of Arrival

The days that followed weren’t easier. Your trains confused me, your timetables scolded me, and your discipline left me scrambling. I stumbled late into lectures, jet-lagged and hungry, trying to make sense of you. That first week, you felt chaotic, relentless, almost unkind.

Discovering Hidden Gems

And yet, somewhere between the confusion and the rain, you revealed slivers of yourself. A glimpse of the Duomo. The quiet rhythm of San Babila, lined with luxury windows and gelato stalls. A green park near home where the sun softened your edges. Little fragments, hints of a soul I never got to fully meet.

Food and Culture

Food made me feel like an outsider again. Being vegetarian, I could not trust your plates — pasta, bread, even the simplest meals seemed uncertain. But then came something small, almost silly: your Fanta. Sweeter, brighter, somehow better than anywhere else. A little sip of joy in a place that felt so heavy.

The Balcony Experience

But Milan, my favorite part of you wasn’t in your streets at all. It was on the balcony of my flat — wide, open, and endless. There, under your changing skies, I found you softer. I watched sunsets burn and fade, the moon rise in quiet beauty. With music in my ears and laughter with my flatmates, I felt closer to you than in all my walks outside. You lived in those skies for me, Milan — not in monuments, not in stations, but in the horizon that made me stop and breathe.

Reflections on Milan

You weren’t what I expected. You were messy, cold, and, at times, unforgiving. But you taught me that beginnings don’t have to be beautiful to matter. If I return, I’ll come earlier, slower, ready to meet you properly.

Until then, Milan — keep your skies waiting. I’ll be back to read them.

Coffee of the Day

Black Coffee – Bitter on its own, softened only when water joins in. Milan, you were just like that for me: harsh, cold, and unkind at first, but my friends became the water that made you bearable.

Conclusion

In the end, my experience in Milan was a journey of discovery. Each moment, whether challenging or beautiful, contributed to a deeper understanding of this vibrant city. I learned to embrace the chaos and find joy in unexpected places. Milan, you are a tapestry of experiences, and I look forward to weaving more memories into your fabric.

~The Stressed Potato