Being that I will be leaving for Arizona in less than 24 hours after a 5 month adventure in Italy (and the surrounding European countries), I became a little contemplative and wrote the following:
When I get home to the states everyone I know will ask me the same question in the same exact way – “How was Italy?” This will become boring and obnoxiously repetitive almost immediately. But this is a human question and as I have been guilty of asking such a question, I will try to respond in a way that does justice to my experience. Because how awful is it to respond to a boring question with a boring answer? How could I possibly respond to that with an “It was great!” and then move on with my life?
Should I tell them about my professors who were never on time to class and cancelled lectures because they had to go to a birthday party? Should I explain how I spent my afternoons lounging in the sun drinking prosseco and chatting with friends from around the globe? Might I mention that being sexually harassed by Italian men incessantly is NOT fun and drove me to learn a few Italian curse phrases in order to stand up for myself? I’ll probably tell them all of these things and more because these are the stories they want to hear. These are good small talk stories. And while I like small talk these were not the things that made my experience GRAND.
The people! How do I describe the people that literally MADE my experience? Do I describe them as “the men and women who touched my heart and broke down any preconceived notions I might have had”? Or “the friends with whom I spent countless hours discussing and embracing the beauty of our cultural differences”? How about “the companions that broke bread with me and shared in a family meal - even though we were miles away from our own biological families”? There aren’t enough words in the English or Italian languages to describe how deeply in love I fell with these people.
The Travel! How exactly to you describe a clear night sky and a full moon shining over the majestic duomo in Florence? How can I articulate the colors of the rainbow that shot across my apartment in Verona? Can I really tell someone about the greens and blues of the countryside that shot across my window as I rushed pass on numerous intercity trains?
And OH GOD THE FOOD! I’m not even going to bother with the food. Better writers than I have failed ferociously in describing such heaven.
But it wasn’t all pizzas and rainbows. I certainly had my days of “Holy crap-pants! What have I gotten myself into?” and “Why did I decide to do my last semester abroad again?” There were times when I was so homesick I thought I wasn’t going to be able to take it. I had my moments when all I wanted was a hug from my mom or to hold my little goddaughter, Lily, in my arms. There was a week that I was so done with Verona that I barely left my apartment – my only consolation being card games and dinners with my Scottish mates a few floors below me. It wasn’t until later that I realized homesickness was just part of the process, part of the journey.
Perhaps all I can say with honesty of expression is the following :
I feel braver now than I have ever felt – I could look a lion straight in the eye and not flinch. I feel more independent, successful and open – I could cure the world of sorrows at this point. I feel like if I tried I could spread my arms out, sprout wings and grow bigger than the sun- and then challenge the angels to a game of “spoons”. I can do anything because I have conquered the smallest to the grandest of my fears. By stepping out of my comfort zone and away from the place I knew, I stepped into myself. I don’t think I will ever stop feeling grateful for Italy and the experience that came with it. And I’ll never stop saying “Grazie” either…
