Getting There
Abroad seems like a different lifetime ago. It’s hard for me to fathom the thought that just one month ago I was sitting in my cute (but very dusty) apartment in Florence, eating Gusta Pizza for the 4th time in the same week. It’s strange being home, yet I’m not in a total state of shock due to the fact that I was ready. I was ready to come home and sleep in my own bed and hear my parents' voices every morning and eat Firehouse subs. I was ready to say goodbye to Italy, however I still found myself crying on the train as we departed Florence for the last time. I was saying goodbye to the place that had stretched me, pushed me, and taken me in despite feelings of discomfort and unease. This was the city I had learned to love and consider my home base throughout my European travels.
I would like to share some of my thoughts from different points in my journey. I’ll start by inserting some of my writing from my very first day in Italy. I was on my way to Rome, where my program would facilitate an orientation program for 1 week before heading to Florence:
Wow. I feel like I’ve been awake for hours on end, probably because I have. Leaving on Saturday consisted of multiple mini panic attacks, nervous stomach, stress headaches & more, but my parents sent me off with love and I boarded my plane. Cue my next panic attack in the plane as I wrestle with my over-stuffed backpack and multiple jackets, try to sanitize my seat discretely, and attempt to open the bottle of afrin that would be necessary for my sinuses (cute, right?). I twisted the top on that thing for 15 minutes until finally the Italian man next to me offered to try. In one try, it was off. Oh, and on top of that, I was crying because Kate sent me the sweetest audio message of her crying – so here I was, weeping in my seat before the plane had even moved, trying to open the dang afrin, when that man finally took pity on me. I ended up returning the favor later by helping him connect to the in-flight wifi. We then bonded over a mutual distaste for Texas and all the “strange people with guns for no reason.” Paolo remained a wonderful airplane pal and wished me luck on my journey.
After landing in Rome, I made it through passport control and customs like a breeze. I actually made record timing getting on the train and metro all by myself. While shoving my way into the metro along with 500 other Italians, a young girl tried to open my purse. Luckily, I noticed and shoved her quite literally off the metro. Really weird first encounter. However, the kindness of my next encounter made up for it. After getting off the metro, I struggled to lug my 60lb. suitcase (not an exaggeration) up three flights of stairs when an older man saw me and came to help. We carried it to the top together and I showed him where I needed to go. He pointed me down the street and then went off on his way. I stopped to catch my breath, however he stopped too because he thought I was confused by his directions. He frantically waved me on from the end of the street. After catching up with him, we turned the corner and saw the hotel just a few feet away. We both laughed in relief and hugged as he said “ciao bella,” and continued to run off to church. His kindness despite the language barrier canceled out the fact that I was almost pick-pocketed in my first hour of being in Italy. Now, I’ve been recovering from my nonstop last 24 hours and trying to restore my body and mind. Nervous for what’s ahead, but I have to remind myself to go with the flow and enjoy.
