There are moments in life when the past resurfaces not as a distant memory but as a vivid, pulsating experience—alive with the sights, sounds, and sensations of a time long gone. For me, that time is the late 1970s, and the place is Europe. It was an era of unhurried afternoons, of meandering conversations in cafe-lined piazzas, of discovering art and culture in ways I could never have imagined growing up in a world thousands of miles apart. The Europe I found was still basking in the afterglow of la dolce vita, its cities breathing history and modernity in equal measure. I was young, curious, and full of longing for something greater than the familiar comforts of home. Little did I know that this journey would shape me in ways I could neither foresee nor fully understand at the time.

At the heart of this story lies Rome—the eternal city and my gateway to a world far larger than the one I had known. I arrived as a dreamer but ended up as a college student, eager to immerse myself in a foreign culture but unaware of how much this place would come to define me. In Rome, the remnants of antiquity stood shoulder to shoulder with the vibrancy of modern life, and as I walked its ancient streets, I felt a palpable connection to the history that had shaped it. Yet it was more than just the grandeur of the city that captured my heart; it was the people I met, the friendships forged across cultures, and the brief yet unforgettable romantic encounters that wove themselves into the fabric of my time there.

As I journeyed across Italy, from the Greek ruins of Sicily to the Renaissance marvels of Florence, and to the quiet beauty of Lake Garda, I felt the world opening up to me. Study tours blurred the lines between learning and living, and each new city brought its own revelations. The landscape of Italy, in all its diversity, mirrored the complexity of my inner world: vast, evolving, and, at times, contradictory. But there was also freedom—an intoxicating sense of possibility that came from being away from the expectations of family, of society, of the life I had always known.

Yet Italy was only part of the story. The summer I spent in Paris and Normandy was like stepping into a dream—one in which every moment was tinged with a kind of romantic melancholy. Paris was more than just a city; it was a world unto itself, with its own rhythm and soul, drawing me deeper into its embrace with every passing day.In the years that followed, the memories of my time in Europe would return to me, not in a nostalgic haze, but with a clarity that demanded to be captured and shared. This memoir is the story of those years—four years of discovery, of growth, and of a kind of joy that comes only when you are fully alive to the world around you.It is, quite simply, my dolce vita.

Zain Baba