I.ii. Franco-forte

“A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what is expected a man should see”
- Samuel Johnson

   I had been preparing to leave, or at least going over the process in my mind, for quite some time, so my departure seemed to have gone as well as I could have hoped. I had somehow managed to fit nearly everything I could possibly need in one year into a few suitcases worth. The first few months would be the most difficult, as they entailed getting along on my own with relatively little help. From November onwards, though, I would be having a steady stream of visitors who would form a vital lifeline for me between the old world and the new. For the start at least that lifeline would be tenuous, and I preferred things that way. The only thing between myself and Italy was a two hour stopover in Frankfurt. I presented my passport, said nothing, and slipped into Europe unbeknownst to anyone…