As someone who’s been single for longer than I’d like to admit, there’s not much I hold back from doing because I’m alone. Especially when it comes to travel, I don’t hesitate to book a solo trip wherever I want. But there has always been one place I couldn’t fathom going alone: Italy.

Italy was the first place I ever dreamed of traveling. As a young kid, I pulled a book about Pompeii off the shelf at the library and became fascinated with ancient Italy. Decades later, when I discovered opera and that Italy was the heart of it, there was nowhere else I wanted to experience.

Yet I went halfway around the world without going to Italy.

I visited the land of my ancestors in Japan, then followed food through Spain and France before my passion for opera took me to Prague and Vienna, then Germany and Switzerland. A dozen destinations followed. But still I had not been to the place at the tippy top of my bucket list: Italy.

Why? Why did I keep putting off the country notorious for amazing food and the most well known place for opera? Well that — *deep breath* — that, is a much deeper confession.

What Going to Italy Means to Me

Italy was always more than a destination for me. Italy was the singular place I needed to experience before I died. It wasn’t the top of my bucket list, it was my bucket list. But there was a very unfortunate caveat. I wanted to experience Italy with someone I loved.

For many people that caveat would be more akin to a side note, one easily overcome. But the realm of romantics has never been so straightforward for me. And yet still, I held off; with hope, I would one day visit Italy with the man I was in love with. In the meantime I’d get the rest of the world out of the way.

And I did.

I traveled all over Europe. I saw operas in 24 cities, alone and with friends. I traveled with boyfriends near and far. I followed my heart as it led me to whisky. I flew across continents to date men. And still I had not been to Italy.

The clock ticked. Birthdays came and went, came and went. Dating apps turned up disaster after disaster (if they turned up anything at all). I even went back to San Francisco. And still I had not been to Italy.

•••

Enjoying a glass of wine while alone in Lucerne, Switzerland.

When I dreamed of Italy — of sipping Prosecco on outdoor cafes after exploring the Colosseum in Rome, of munching on pizza dripping with mozzarella in Naples, of seeing the opera at the world’s most famous opera house in Milan — I dreamed of doing it with a handsome man at my side. It didn’t make sense otherwise.

So I slowly checked the boxes of every other place I could possibly dream of going, with friends, alone, or otherwise. Italy would just have to wait. But after experiencing one of my favorite trips to Ireland by myself it dawned on me that life doesn’t last forever. And there certainly aren’t any guarantees. Especially in the realm of romantics.

I didn’t let being single hold me back from doing anything I wanted. I traveled alone, went to comedy shows and operas alone, drank whiskey at bars alone. My life made sense and I was happy. Even alone. So why had I still not been to Italy?

It was time to change that.

One of my favorite quotes, doodled in my notebook.

•••

Then the stars aligned, as I’ve heard they do. I found an incredibly affordable flight to Italy for the random string of days that’d allow me to see three operas in three cities. And not only would I get to see an opera at the opera house I’d been dreaming of every single day since 2009, the opera at La Scalla in Milan would be my 100th opera. It was meant to be.

And, so, I’m going to Italy. Not because I found the man I want to marry, but because I’m not waiting around for anyone to do things I want to do. Life is just too short.

So next month I’m seeing three operas at three of the best opera houses in Italy: starting in Rome, then Venice, and finally Milan. I’m following my love of food around the country and following my heart to the place it’s literally always wanted to go. And I can’t wait.

I’m finally going to Italy.