Here I am, waking up to another day in the place I left behind. California is beautiful right now, today. The sun is out and everything is green and open. Much different than my beloved Florence, it is amazing that there is room in my heart to love and be at home in such vastly different places. I count myself lucky.

The trip back was incredibly long- about 25 hours of travel-but extremely smooth. On the flight from Rome to New York, I ended up sitting in front of an older couple from Napoli. I had also sat next to them on the train, and kept bumping into them during check-in, security and shuttling from terminal to terminal. Finally as I took my place next to the window (the best place for a dreamer), we acknowledged each other and began to chat in Italian. The dialect they used was a little hard for me to understand, but we managed. The plane filled and we eventually began our journey.

None of the flight attendants spoke Italian, so I was called upon to translate for the couple behind me, who did not speak English. I helped explain what was being served for lunch and relay their order to the attendant. As forms for Customs were passed out (English and French only), I helped the couple fill out their forms, while the attendant looked on. I also discovered that there were two Brazilian women in front of me who I chatted to in a mix of Portuguese and Italian. The flight attendant also approached me several times to ask me how to say a word in Spanish. It was a working flight for me, and a smorgasbord of language.

Usually I am very quiet and keep to myself when I fly. For some reason, this trip was peppered with conversation. Everybody I sat near or around was pleasantly chatty, and I filled hours exchanging ideas, observations and principles of living with strangers. The man who sat next to me from New York to Los Angeles was an older man with a lot to say. He looked about 65, but revealed his age to be nearing 81. He was extraordinarily impressed by the brain. He made exclamations over it again and again, while bemoaning an age where people need to distract themselves constantly with internet, books, games and anything but just being with themselves and thinking. He told story after story of his youth, how he raised his children, how he constantly tested himself and his family and applied common sense and intelligence to everything. He told me that he believed that nobody “had a life” but they were merely expressing life, because when they passed, life would go on. Convinced that the only way to live is happily and fully, he knew the importance of spreading positive energy. He was exceedingly interesting and kind.

The short flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco was also pleasant and filled with conversation. I sat next to a man who loves Florence. He goes whenever he can with his wife and is planning another trip in November. He asked me for little gems of knowledge about the best non-touristy places to eat and visit. When we landed at SFO he offered to let me use his phone to call my friends who were picking me up, and if they weren’t there, offered to accompany me to the travel lounge at the terminal of which he is a member, so that I could wait in comfort. I thanked him kindly and instead made my way out towards the doors to find my friends.

This trip highlighted for me the importance of conversation and the need people have to connect. It showed me the international currency of kindness and most importantly, reminded me how lucky I am to be able to connect in so many different languages with people of all ages and from all walks of life. It felt wonderful to say “I live in Florence” and filled my heart with joy to know that as hard as it can be, I am living my dreams. I followed my heart to a city in the heart of Italy, and every day, while freezing and jobless, I thank my lucky stars that my soul refuses to let me settle and instead pushes me to ever greater heights, often over an ocean.