Freedom in Freiburg: Escaping the Prison of Milan

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I recently made a trip to Freiburg, Germany, and boy, was it a few days of reprieve from the onslaught of life in Milan (I came back from the US a little over two weeks ago, and Milan didn’t wait a second to put me in a chronically awful mood…).

Even if I didn’t choose Germany as my expat destination, I certainly have more respect for it than Italy 😅.

When I was actively putting an effort into Italian, I came across an interesting “quirk”: when trying to translate a phrase from English to Italian in my mind, I would often first think of the phrase in German.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to say “How much does that cost?” in Italian, but “Wie viel kostet das?” hit my brain at lightening speed. When I shared this phenomenon with others, no one seemed to relate.

Perhaps this is only an issue only receptively bilingual folks can relate to—those who have become familiar with multiple languages passively, but are not 100 percent fluent in any of them except their native language (aka, me).

When it comes to Germany, my brain loves the order. The order in the grammar of the language, clear-cut rules (even if they’re a pain, you know what to expect), and a sense of practicality.

This is what drew me to the language in high school, along with the fact that it was a unique offering for language class. Most high schools offered Spanish, maybe French, but German was definitely a not so common offering.

Not to mention, my teacher was an exuberant second gen Chinese American who was probabaly more in love with Germany than any blonde-haired, blue-eyed man straight out of the Black Forest 😅.

German was my favorite class in high school because it brought relaxation after tense periods of AP science and calculus classes (the latter gave my digestive problems, no joke). I was Herr L’s star student (of course, my type A personality wouldn’t have it any other way) and I was known as Inge in his class (we had to pick German names for class, and I actually picked Inge because it sounded like a word in Tamil! 😁).

After high school, I tried to continue German in college, but my type A personality was scared to fail. After getting a C+ on my first assignment (an essay), I panicked. I dropped the course because I wanted to focus on making sure I didn’t fail my “more important classes” that would get me into med school 🙄.

My life went a different direction eventually, and obviously 😅. I chose Italy with intention, in that the next step was professional, but not only that…

I didn’t go to Italy for a boy like many other American girls, but I can’t deny the fact I wanted a piece of that Italian romance too! To be honest, I don’t think I would have taken that risk in finding love anywhere else…especially Germany 😂!

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All of this is to say German and I go way back, and my weekend in Freiburg definitely brought me much-needed peace.

On my way to Freiburg, I felt exhausted and perturbed. The exciting event I was referring to in my last post was indeed a job interview for my dream role (well, technically I’d like to write a NYT bestseller and live off the book’s income, but ya know, plan B 🙄…), and although I did well, I was passed on for an internal candidate.

The news hit me HARD and I was left in a funk for several days. Being in Milan didn’t help either…I knew I’d have to get back to my job search grind, and the unknown of that gives me anxiety every single freaking day 😔.

So this was on my mind as I sat aboard my first Flixbus (comparable to Megabus in America!). When I got to Freiburg a little over six hours later, I was still in a sour mood, but the quiet walk over to the hotel eventually softened me up.

I mean, there was a Dean & David (German fast casual chain with vegetarian and vegan options!!) next to the amazing Super 8 hotel I was staying at. I fueled with a halloumi salad and fruit and nut brownie before checking into this spectacular room:

Maybe it’s because I don’t like my life right now, but this hotel room got me feeling all sorts of emotional. Being able to leave Milan, even if just for two days, felt like I was able to escape a year-long stay in prison.

Taking multiple hot showers. Not having to worry about keeping the gas off to save on heating. Two comfy beds (lol, just cause I guess?).

Meeting my friend for dinner later was also such an uplifting moment. I felt incredibly relaxed, and so grateful we were able to meet up despite our crazy schedules. Good company truly does make life’s stresses feel a lot less daunting…

The next morning was wonderful as well. I slept in, had an amazing pancake breakfast, and walked around in the old town square, reveling in Freiburg’s humble cuteness.

I woke up happy that morning. I could feel it in my bones and my voice, and there had to be a reason for it.

That afternoon, I walked into a local store (Kaufland) and stocked up on vegan snacks and unique Pringles flavors not offered in Italy. Cheese and Onion, these Italians are missing out…

I prepped myself for a long run, and used it as an excuse to climb up to the Schloßberg and treat myself to incredible panoramic views of the city, as well as trail into the Black Forest. After a rewarding 14 miles with steep incline, I treated myself to dinner at Dean & David: vegan green curry and a golden milk latte.

My short stay in Freiburg was perfect, because it fed my soul without me expecting it to.

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Living in Milan has forced me to compromise and expect less than what I deserve, which is why I think it depresses me while other places restore me.

Despite what other expats in Italy say, things are not good here. That’s the truth. The cost of living is high, and the salaries are abysmally low, even for a post-doctorate like myself. People often tell me “I’m rich compared to others in Italy“, which is a frightening thing to hear…it means most Italians are living right above or close to poverty level when compared to American standards 😧. People also tell me that “well, you can leave whenever you want“, though it’s not that simple.

I need an exit plan. A parachute. A road map.

Yes, I’m tired of living like a nomad. I’m proud of the fact I am capable of being a minimalist, but I’d love to establish roots and live the life I truly deserve. Striving for that when your current situation numbs you is one of the hardest challenges I’ve had to face.

I wish I could end this post on a more positive note, but reality sometimes prevents glimmers of hope from poking through. Freiburg was a blessing, a promise that I am capable of happiness. My recent, multiple trips to Houston and Austin too. The universe is asking me to be patient and brave. I hope I can continue to do so, and that the light at the end of the tunnel is near.