755. Letting go.

I've been feeling introspective and, as I've mentioned before, when that mood hits I don't like sharing what I write.

Plus, I've had more than a few disappointments since moving here and I'm really missing the support network of my friends back home.

I'm hoping that this is a normal moving-to-a-foreign-country experience and that I'll be in a better space sooner rather than later. When I first realized the challenges before me, I speculated that February would be the month in which things got easier, or I more accustomed to this new life. I'm still hopeful that this is the case.

I found out last week that along with many others, my storage space back home got broken into. Thankfully I have R back home who is taking care of the practical matters of police reports and insurance forms. Still, I wish I was back home. Apparently the limit I can recover from theft (with a $100 deductible) is $1000. That barely covers the cost of the gorgeous over-sized ceramic vase I owned made by a very talented San Francisco artist. And what about the things stolen of more sentimental value? The hope chest my parents gave me for my high school graduation was one of the items stolen. As far as I'm concerned, that's irreplaceable.

To top it off, my camera has gone missing.

Woe is me!

Well, I'm tired of feeling down. I'm heading to the train station: Venice for 20 euros round-trip or Milan for about the same. Wish me fun.