Less than a year ago, I left everything I knew in the US — job security, friends, and financial stability — to start over in Italy.
For five years, I worked in New York City as a culture writer, my dream career. I’d always wanted to climb the corporate ladder, but the higher I got, the more my identity became intertwined with my job title.
The issue is that not all of my life goals were work-related, so in the fleeting moments between filming TV segments and attending meetings, I wondered when I’d find the time to do things like learn a new language or experience a different culture. My limited annual leave just wasn’t cutting it.
The more I flirted with the idea of attending culinary school in Paris or practicing samba in Rio, the more excited I got about moving abroad.
After working through the logistics, I submitted my resignation letter at work and landed on Florence, Italy, as my new home.
The transition to life abroad was lonely and disorienting
Justine Golata
From the moment I landed in Italy, my life looked and felt different.
Although I had some stable footing — I signed a lease in Florence and enrolled in an intensive Italian-language program — I lacked the routine I’d had for years.
I told myself I could rely on the occasional freelance writing gig until I came up with a more concrete plan, but my world felt completely off-kilter. Without a 9-to-5 schedule holding me accountable and giving me structure, the days seemed to escape me.
I spoke almost no Italian when I arrived (despite taking an online course the month before I left), and the language barrier left me feeling isolated in social situations where I’d normally be one of the chattiest people in the room.
My go-to creature comforts weren’t landing the same way either. In New York, I’d picked up comforting habits like grabbing a frothy afternoon coffee or raiding the romance section at my favorite bookstore on tough days.
I tried to replicate them in Florence, but Italians don’t drink cappuccinos past 11 a.m. (they switch to espresso, and I was trying to assimilate), and the English book selection at the shop near my apartment was limited, at best.
As I adjusted to my day-to-day life in Florence, I had moments when I realized that putting my professional success and stability on hold to pursue personal goals was more complex than I’d expected.
And because Florence is in the Central European Summer Time, which is six hours ahead of New York, the time change made it difficult to lean on my US-based support system.
Slowly, I adapted to my surroundings
Somewhere between relaxing in piazzas and perfecting my espresso order (al banco), I realized I’ve picked up quite a bit since moving overseas.
For example, I showed up in Italy speaking almost no Italian, but seven months into my move, I can hold a basic conversation without stumbling over my words.
The slower pace in Italy has also taught me that there’s a difference between being productive and having a dysregulated nervous system. In Florence, I started to feel like I was gaining back years of my life I’d sacrificed to hustle culture in New York.
I’ve also grown more open and self-assured. My calendar is full of trips with friends I didn’t know six months prior. Although visa applications and logistics used to send me into a tizzy, I now feel confident I can handle whatever is ahead of me.
Although I miss parts of New York, I’m confident that my move was the right decision
Justine Golata
I’m living off a declining account balance and don’t yet know my next career move, but I have never regretted taking a risk and relocating here.
How could I when I can watch the sunrise from my apartment before stopping for an espresso at the café around the corner?
I’d still take a New York bagel over a cornetto any day, but the nostalgia I feel for my old life isn’t enough to make me want to return. Moving to Italy has completely opened my world.
Florence may not be my forever home, but it’s made me want to live a freer, more fearless life. I don’t know what my future holds, especially for my career, and that no longer makes me feel like a failure. It actually excites me.
There are more countries I want to see and languages I’m determined to learn. Maybe I’ll still go to Paris or Rio, destinations I’ve dreamed of for years. All I know for certain is that the world is big enough for me to reinvent myself.
