For the longest time, I have wanted to share my experience. And for even longer, I have debated whether or not I should. As international students moving abroad for a Master’s, an Erasmus, an internship, or a job, we often arrive full of expectations and hopes for our time in a new country. My arrival in Milan, exactly two years ago, was no different. Yet those few months turned out not to be particularly remarkable for their highs, but rather for how challenging and disheartening they were.
As a quick disclaimer, I fully recognize that Italy is much more than Milan, far more. I also want to acknowledge that my experience was a privilege, entirely my own responsibility, and what I write here is by no means applicable to others. With the clarity that comes from both time and distance, I began to untangle what it was about my disappointment that made it unfold the way it did.
Coming from Brazil, I had always admired Italy and Italian culture. With its long history of emigration, Italian influences are deeply woven into our society, from music to gastronomy and beyond. At the same time, there is an inherited tendency—shaped by our colonial past—to place European references on a higher pedestal, as if they carried greater legitimacy or value. To such an extent, having Italian citizenship by descent, or even a hard-to-pronounce European surname, often serves as somewhat of a marker of prestige.
Within that mindset, moving abroad is seen as the epitome of success: escaping a country trapped in stagnation, in order to arrive in one of Europe’s great developed nations, celebrated as the home of culture, art, and fine wine. Looking back, that narrative inflated my expectations far beyond what reality could deliver.
Well, shortly after arriving, for as much as I tried, I could never feel truly at ease in the city despite engaging with the Milanese lifestyle. I like to think that I have done everything in my power to enjoy it, having joined several student organizations, attending sports events, and perhaps most importantly, having put in time to reach a conversational level of Italian. Don’t get me wrong, I have even met some great people who are close friends to this day and I became a regular at Navigli’s and Porta Venezia’s many bars.
Of course, I am not talking about air pollution, noise or rental prices, even though it amazes me seeing Paris prices being charged for a city with no Tour Eifel or scenic river in sight. Nor was it about the city’s infrastructure, which is among the best I’ve seen. My unease came from elsewhere, from something less tangible but harder to ignore.
My first real shock was when I was asked by a classmate, in Italian, despite this being a course taught fully in English, why I was white, given that I was Brazilian. I was left speechless thinking that I was somehow white enough for him to assume I spoke Italian but somehow exotic enough to warrant the question of where I was really from. Unfortunately, this exact scene happened another time to me and was not an isolated incident, as other friends had shared similar stories. To be clear, I never expected knowledge of my country’s demographic composition or colonial history from my classmates, nonetheless, I did expect a certain level of respect.
What unsettled me most was Italian society’s conservativism. I remember feeling a bit shocked by the kind of debates around domestic violence seen throughout the media. Mainly because these were the same points that entered the public debate in Brazil around 10 years earlier. Could Italy really be behind a “backwater” country like Brazil? Imagine my surprise when I found out gay marriage isn’t legal. The news reports about gay bashings also did not help. I hadn’t noticed how walking around even in touristic areas it was near impossible to see any same-gender couples holding hands, something trivial in any major western European or Brazilian city.
A Neapolitan friend of mine once told me that living in a new city will always make us question the things we do back home. I understand what he meant, but I cannot help but revisit the quote. The exercise of weighing the pros and cons and the non-negotiables must be done at some point by every foreigner. Until moving there, I had never realized how fortunate I was to have lived without having to constantly worry about homophobia. Even more so now than before, with LGBT rights continuing to erode under the current government.
As the months went by, I quickly started living for the occasional weekend trip to nearby cities, going to Verona, Como, Genoa, all became a form of escapism, perhaps a failed attempt of trying to not let go of my status as a tourist. Then exams came. And with them, winter. Maybe it was my first full European winter and first Christmas away from my family, but I had quickly reached rock bottom. Weren’t international experiences meant to be a blessing, not a curse?
Soon after, I started applying for jobs outside Milan, I had made my decision, either I would leave the country, or I would drop the Master’s. For a long time I was ashamed, feeling like I couldn’t handle Milan or university. Even putting it into writing I question myself if these were reasons enough to warrant such feelings, nonetheless, it was all it took. I wonder if things would have been easier had I shared the city’s fixation on fashion and design. Who knows.
Eventually, I managed to land a job in Paris and left early the next year. I arrived uneasy, Milan still casting its shadow, but it lifted quickly. Thanks to the non-attending student status, I found my formula for finishing the Master’s: show up for exams, disappear again. Rinse and repeat.
Each exam session brought me back. And each return felt different. For all my harsh words about Milan, I missed certain places, certain people. A drink with friends. The barista from the café near my old apartment asking why I’d vanished. Small reminders that the city wasn’t only struggle.
In the end, not every city becomes a love story. Sometimes adapting is just impossible and the best we can do is leave. I wish I had discovered a way to love the city on its own terms, but that never happened. Some places are not meant to be more than a step along the way.
Hello! I'm a Spanish Brazilian, raised in Brazil, embarking on my first year in the Master of Management program. As a graphic designer, I specialize in typography and my personal taste gravitates toward vibrant colors and cheesy aesthetics.
