I figured I'd start each of these photo-heavy posts with a short description of a favorite memory, one that correlates with a photo. But I'm quickly realizing that our favorite memories weren't all photographed. As Jacob pointed out, that's what makes them so sweet.
So when I look back on our time in Milan, my most cherished memory is our first night: a home-cooked meal at Alexa and Lorenzo's apartment. (They're the ones who were getting married in a few short days.)
We navigated our way across town without any hiccups and felt proud as we strolled up to Alexa and Timo, her rescue pup. Timo is shy with new visitors, so we schmoozed him with treats and coos before entering his space.
Once inside, Jacob and I joined Michelle, Alexa's childhood friend, at the kitchen's island where Lorenzo put finishing touches on our dinner: pasta puttanesca. (I recently looked this up. It directly translates to "pasta in the style of a prostitute.")
We poured a few glasses of wine. Then a few more before settling around their family-sized dining table. The room filled with chatter about their upcoming wedding and their life in Italy. We asked tons of questions: What do Italians think of America these days? What's the cost of living in this neck of the woods? When can we come back?
We laughed as we slurped up our spaghetti noodles. Timo became particularly fond of Jacob, resting his head on his lap. We capped off our meal with sips of Braulio, an herbaceous liqueur that tasted almost like an evergreen forest. Lorenzo loves it, said it's good for the gut; we weren't so sure.
The rest of the night included limoncello, which we learned you aren't supposed to throw back like a shot, more dreamy talks of moving to Italy and finally a brisk run to the metro station to catch the last ride of the night.
We spent the next day, which is mostly what’s pictured below, feeling a little more like locals with Braulio in our gut and our sweet, sweet hometown connection.