On how to say goodbye and, especially, how hard it is to be good at it. On pink skies, friendship, and, again, delicious food.

Leaving Andi’s place was like leaving a house we’d first seen 48 hours earlier and had felt like home for the past 47 hours and a half.

As the three of us left with Trubi, a violent storm hit hard for about half an hour, soon followed by one of the brightest explosions of pink I’ve ever seen. It didn’t last long, but it was unique: the clouds toward the horizon looked like they had no mass, like they had suddenly turned into pink mist.

Saying goodbye to Trubi was as hard as it had been with Andi, but none of us are the weeper type, so we cut it short. We all cherish the Italy-Bavaria corridor and are keen to take good care of it.

Apart from the fact that I can’t wait to go back to Bavaria, and truly hope it will happen some time soon, there is one thing above all that I couldn’t possibly ever forget, and that’s the incredibly warm welcome we received from Andi’s family.

When we returned to his place after watching the sunset, the table was set in the patio, Andi’s parents sitting at table, waiting for us. Dinner was delicious. Andi and his Mum alternatively cooked for us throughout the weekend, made sure we had our own room and bathroom, and showed us around the house, which, as anyone else would tell, emanates warmth and love in its simplest yet more authentic form.

As for Trubi, he drove through Munich at rush hour only to pick us up at the station, so Bobby and I wouldn’t have to wait for the next train, and the three of us would be arriving together in Samerberg. Then, he drove us back to Munich in the evening, after which he still had another hour-and-a-half drive back to his place in Regensburg.

It’s always great to be in touch with Andi and Trubi, and be able to see them at least once or twice a year. And it’s always great, after spending time together, to invariably think how lucky we are that we can call them friends.