Hi Reader
This week's newsletter is a bit long, but I hope you'll stay for it...
We've been living in Belgium for close to a month now, and it's been absolute CHAOS over here. I'm patiently waiting for our household goods to arrive and watching them move across the map in real time on my Apple AirTags as I type this (BEST INVESTMENT EVER FOR YOUR MOVES!)
We hit the ground running from Vicenza to Mons, and it was a tearful goodbye for me. Italy was the place where I really blossomed and found my peace, and somewhere in there, I realized I am forever a mountain girl.
I also learned that popular places are popular for a reason. I remember approaching Monteriggioni on my second day during the Via Francigena Toscana, looking around, and thinking:
"OH, I GET IT NOW."
Because here's my confession: I didn't want to fall in love with Italy like everyone else. I never really understood why everyone fell so hard for Italy. I have friends who have been back multiple times, and I just didn't get it....
Then I hiked in the Dolomites. I drank a $2.50 spritz at our local bar, the same one that somehow served the best cappuccino and brioche I've ever had, and we watched the sun pour down over the pre-Alps. It was something else.
I finally understood what people mean by a 20-minute city. We could walk to our nearest grocery store, pizzeria, and slowly became part of their family (I miss you, Roberta!) I've genuinely debated flying back to Vicenza just for the pizza they serve in the fall, the one covered in pumpkin creme, deep-fried sage, and bacon. (If you ever end up near Vicenza, go to Caldogno and try DalTano. You won't regret it. Tell the team, "Isaac and Kim Sent Me!")
The little things like that added up. The beautiful trips to Venice, where, when our budget was tight because our dog was on expensive chemo pills, I could duck into a museum, eat cicchetti, and have a glass of ombra for 10 euros all while attempting to speak terrible Italian to the folks behind the bar. I could be in Asiago hiking within 50 minutes, learning about WWI, and talking to the Alpini, the guardians of the mountains. I could hike out to old forts and eat some of the best cheese and Venetian meals I've ever had.
I solo hiked some hard routes and realized, again, that I'd rather be in the mountains or on a trail in Italy than in the big cities everyone flocks to. There was so much culture and history out there, so many stories, myths, and legends. I thought I would be country-hopping, but then I realized how much I loved where I was — even through the hard days abroad. It was something special!
Slowly, local businesses started letting me in. I asked more questions, got out of my comfort zone, and began to understand the community I was part of.
It felt like Korea 2.0. I was flattered that places like Caseificio Pennar, Poli Grappa, and The Dolomist opened their world to me and let me tell their stories.
And what an honor it is to tell someone's story. If you ever get the chance to just sit and talk with someone from the other side of the world, take it and cherish it. You can learn so much about yourself and the things you truly love.
Honestly, I have no idea how to "capitalize" on everything I've learned, because Instagram and the Google algorithm don't reward context the way they should. Freelance writing isn't what it once was, and journalism has been hit hard.
But the stories still matter to me, so here are a few of the people and places I had the chance to write about. I hope you'll give them a click:
So here's to a new chapter.
In a world where the three-second attention span reigns supreme, and AI can spin up a "guide" in seconds, I'm choosing to bet on the slow stuff. The long conversations. The context. The stories that take time to earn and time to tell.
I hope you'll let me keep bringing them to you, in the form of blog posts and little write-ups, and I hope Belgium turns out to be full of people who will let me tell their stories too. I don't know exactly what this chapter looks like yet. But I know I'll be out walking, asking too many questions, and writing it all down.
Stay curious,
Kimberly.
P.S. — Really starting to panic about this Iceland trip in 2027.
It's still open and ready for sign-ups, but you don't have long to experience Iceland in 2027: Jan 26 – Feb 1, 2027.
