Twenty-six kilometers separate Biella from Ivrea, but they might as well be centuries apart.
I’ve already told you about Ivrea—the city that dreamed outward, that built its utopia around Olivetti’s vision, that wanted the world to see what it had created. Biella chose differently. When the textile industry that defined it for generations disappeared, Biella didn’t dream of the future. It turned inward.
There was once a sign at the city entrance—or maybe it’s a legend that captures the truth better than facts ever could—that read something like: “Welcome to Biella—but no one’s expecting you.” In 2018, statistics confirmed what the sign suggested: Biella was officially Italy’s least attractive city, the place no one wanted to move to.
And yet.
I fell in love with Biella the moment I arrived, eight years ago, not despite its coldness, but because of what that coldness actually meant.
One day, walking into town from where I live just outside the city, I dropped my shirt—an expensive one I loved.
Continue reading https://exegi.substack.com/p/the-expat-paradox-finding-freedom
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