I didn’t speak Italian. Somehow, this important observation hadn’t crossed my mind until I stepped off the plane.
So much had gone wrong that day; my luggage was lost, the flight hadn’t gotten my dinner and for some reason I was annoyed at my mom. But the second I stepped off of the plane and into the Venice Airport, my hunger and annoyance disintegrated.
My anxiety was quickly replaced with curiosity: all that was on my mind was the unknown; the taste of coffee, the climbs on mountains and the new language. All ponders that would be answered with time.
