Contemplation

As my time in Italy comes to an end, there’s a lot to think about. Have I adjusted to life here in three weeks? Will it feel weird to go home? How do I define home when the place I live is always changing? Three weeks is a decent amount of time, but definitely not enough to learn the ins and outs of the other side of the world. So even though I’m not an expert on Italy, I have learned much more about myself.

Time seems to move differently in Italy. In some ways schedules are more strict and in some ways not. When it comes to food everything is slow. People take their time and appreciate what they are putting in their bodies. Eating is an event with no time restrictions. But when it comes to transportation, things are more fast-paced. Cars fly by each other and by people on the streets, trains and buses follow tight schedules. I’ve learned to appreciate time, and that means knowing when to take things slow and when to be precise down to the minute. Art is something I’ve learned to appreciate, too. Wandering through the museums, passing by cathedrals, looking at graffiti on the walls, I’ve realized art has no boundaries. Art is the renaissance works of Michelangelo and Botticelli, but art is also the homemade pasta at a local restaurant, the carvings and curves of the Duomo, the colorful lines and patterns sprayed onto stone walls. Art is everywhere and I’ve learned to pay more attention to it. I’ve also gained a greater sense of responsibility. At school I’m living on my own, but this is a totally different world. Buying toilet paper and hand soap became necessary tasks, I had to think about where and when I was going to eat, I had to learn how to navigate public transportation and always remember the keys to the apartment. All of that on top of finding my way around a new city really made me feel so self-sufficient and for that I’m proud.

I’ll come home to America with a newfound awareness. Being in an unfamiliar place has forced me to look more, listen more, and connect more with my surroundings. And there are so many things to be aware of that I haven’t always payed attention to. I’ve seen the movement of the city and how people, cars, bikes, buses and trains overlap and intertwine. I’ve seen the devotion to food and how it is not fuel but enjoyment. I’ve seen the alluring detail that has worked its way into every structure: each corner, wall, window and stone on the street. I’ve seen myself sticking out and fitting in and knowing the difference, I will be more conscious of how I project myself to people around me when I go home. I aspire to maintain this mindfulness in everything that I do.

I’ve tried to use my writing to capture different aspects of this trip, both for myself and for sharing with others. Writing has always been my favorite way to communicate—even when I struggle to find the right words to describe what I see or feel. Keeping this blog has forced me to write, forced me to analyze and forced me to think deeper about my experiences. Writing is another form of art and there is no right or wrong way to do it. There isn’t a formula to follow for the structure, it can simply be what I feel—a string of words, a description, a reflection. It is important to write and to capture what I see and feel because it grounds me and helps me remember what is important to me: learning, communicating, experiencing.

Ciao, Italy, another place I’ve called home.