Dear Perugia,

I’m down to my last ten days studying abroad here, and honestly, I’m not handling it well.

I arrived at the beginning of January, and now somehow it’s already the middle of April. These have been the fastest months of my life. Months packed with memories I know I’ll carry forever. There is so much I’ll miss about Italy, but even more than that, there is so much I’ll miss about you, Perugia.

I’ll miss the friendships you gave me. Landing in a foreign country is equal parts exciting and terrifying, and there’s something so comforting about being surrounded by people feeling the exact same thing. Somehow, strangers quickly became some of my favorite people. These friendships helped me grow in ways I never expected, and now I get to say I have people I care about scattered across the world, which feels both beautiful and slightly inconvenient for future reunions.

I’ll miss your cappuccinos. Truly, you haven’t had a real cappuccino until you’ve had one in Italy. They arrive topped with the cutest little foam designs, almost too pretty to drink. Almost. Because the second it hits the table, it’s gone in ten seconds. Some mornings it felt less like coffee and more like an emotional support system.

I’ll miss my walk to class. I never once struggled to hit my step goal here, mostly because your hills refused to let me be lazy. Every uphill battle was rewarded with a view so beautiful it almost made me forget my legs were on fire. Almost.

I’ll also miss the high school students I had the chance to volunteer with and teach. Getting to know those high schoolers was one of the most unexpectedly rewarding parts of my time here. They were so fun, so easy to connect with, and every class left me smiling. I loved getting to share pieces of American culture with them, but what made it even more special was how much they taught me in return about Italian culture, humor, and everyday life. It never felt one-sided. I’ll miss them so much.

I’ll miss your mini metro, my favorite tiny rollercoaster disguised as public transportation. It somehow managed to be both practical and adorable, which feels very on-brand for you.

I’ll miss Francesco, your dog that somehow belonged to no one and everyone at the same time. He became such a familiar part of everyday life, always wandering your streets like he had somewhere important to be. His bark was impossible to ignore, but somehow that only made him more memorable. Sweet and always around, he felt like one of those little things that made me love you even more.

I’ll miss your cobblestone streets, equal parts charming and personally offensive. Yes, dragging giant suitcases over them was humbling in every possible way, but on every normal day, they made even the simplest walk feel cinematic. Whether I was heading to class, aperitivo, or absolutely nowhere, your streets made wandering feel like the destination.

I’ll miss my classes at the Umbra Institute. You gave me the chance to take classes that were genuinely fun and inspiring, like Art Therapy and Photography, two of my favorites. Photography, especially, taught me how to capture at least a fraction of your beauty, even though no picture ever quite does you justice.

I’ll miss your Baci, because honestly, no chocolate at home is going to compare. With so many flavors to choose from, my heart belongs to the original dark chocolate. Perugia, you really knew what you were doing with that one.

I’ll miss your sunsets from the hill. Some of my favorite nights were the simplest ones: sitting with friends, watching the sky turn colors over the city, and pretending time wasn’t moving so fast.

And of course, I’ll miss your aperitivos. America, we need to talk! Why is this not a thing? Some of my best memories were made gathered around a table with friends, snacking on chips and pretzels, sipping spritzes, and somehow turning a quick drink into hours of conversation. So many friendships were strengthened over aperitivo, and I fully plan on importing this tradition back home.

Perugia, you have been so good to me. You gave me unforgettable memories, beautiful chaos, random alleys that somehow always led somewhere magical, and a version of myself I’m really proud of.

I’m beyond grateful for the chance to call you home, even if only for a little while.

I hope this isn’t goodbye, just a see you later.

Love,
Addi