Page 66 - Marie Claire Australia (January 2020)

FROM ABOVE Saskia
“WE LEFT OUR LIVES,
JOBS AND FAMILIES
BEHIND AND MOVED
TO THE OTHER SIDE OF
THE WORLD TOGETHER”
SA S K I A T I LLE R S , 2 8
hen he told me the
news, it sounded so
romantic – a year in
Italy, living la dolce
Wvita! I would write on
the balcony of my spacious apartment,
wander the cobbled streets, make
interesting new friends and spend
the evenings sipping Aperol Spritzes.
Jack and I both grew up in the
same small town, and while we
dabbled in a bit of light flirting over
MSN Messenger as 14-year-olds,
we didn’t get together until we
reconnected at Sydney University.
Eight years on, and newly engaged, our
lives were firmly rooted in Sydney. We
had jobs we loved – his in marketing
for a clothing and motorcycle company,
and mine at a magazine – a booming
social life, tight-knit families, a
brand-new baby nephew and my
93-year-old grandma close by. So when
Jack’s work asked him to relocate to
their Milan office for a year, our neat
world was thrown into disarray. We
agreed this was an opportunity he
couldn’t pass up, but long-distance
was not an option. We were doing
this together, or not at all.
A few months later, we headed
to the airport en route to the land of
carbs and cannoli. Not surprisingly,
our suitcases were overweight. I sat
on the cold linoleum floor sobbing as
I handed my mum photo frames and
packets of Tim Tams too heavy to take.
When we finally arrived in Milan
– sans Tim Tams – after 28 hours of
travelling, two connecting flights and
a tense hour at the baggage carousel,
the culture shock hit me hard.
Unfortunately, I’m someone who likes
66 | marieclaire.com.au
and her fiancé Jack in
Italy; and back home
in Australia before
their big voyage.
rules, and here I was in a country
where I had no way of knowing
the cultural nuances. One hot day
I decided to take a solo dip at the pool.
Dunking my head underwater, I
resurfaced to the sound of a shrill
whistle and an angry woman wildly
gesticulating as she scolded me in
rapid Italian. Turns out I needed
a swimming cap – who knew? I
sheepishly lifted myself out, next to
men with far more offensive back hair. once more up the eight flights to our
Just a few weeks in, Jack had new house, I threw the tantrum of
work mates and was practically a local. all tantrums. I was ready to book a
Already fluent in Spanish, his grasp one-way ticket home – with or without
of Italian was effortless, while I could Jack. But as I sat sulking, he handed
barely order an espresso without the me a water bottle, kissed my sweaty
waitress rolling her eyes and pointedly forehead and hauled my 40kg suitcase
replying in English. I pushed aside up the narrow stone staircase for me.
the tinge of jealousy. All was forgiven.
After navigating endless The Italians have an expression
appointments with greasy real estate they use with great frequency “piano
agents and their dingy one-bedders, piano”, meaning “step by step, slowly,
we finally found an apartment we slowly”. So our reality wasn’t exactly
liked. On moving day, it was 41°C. like the fantasy I’d envisioned. Our
Thin on cash, Jack suggested we apartment wasn’t spacious, but there
ditch the removal van. It was only two was always Aperol on hand. There
train stops, with a short walk at either were no friends yet, but despite his
end. How hard could it be? Midway occasional error in judgment, Jack
through our third trip, about to trudge was still my favourite person.