When I moved to Italy, my first thought was that I should’ve gone somewhere else.
As I walked through the alleyway-streets of Florence, gazing up at the very little accessible sky and dark, grey buildings, I asked myself why I hadn’t chosen somewhere else, with more sky and sun and fresh air. Why I hadn’t chosen a place with people that looked more like myself, with red hair, pale skin, and a floral wardrobe? Why hadn’t I picked Scotland, Germany, or The Netherlands? Why Italy?
Sitting here, eating my cacio e pepe and watching one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen, even with my view obstructed by rafters and red-tiled roofs, I know why.
I think I chose Italy because I knew what to expect. I knew a bit of Italian, and where I’m from, there are lots of Italian immigrants, so I thought I knew a bit about the culture. I knew it would be beautiful, and renaissance history is my favorite, so Florence was the obvious choice. I liked the school in Florence better than other cities in Italy or even Southern Europe. So in some ways, it was the obvious choice.
All that melted away when I got here. I didn’t know what I was walking into, and I didn’t come with any friends. All I had was a love for pizza and an interest in getting to know the different types of pasta, and I clung to that for days. Pizza and pasta. The two things I knew I loved.
I’m still on the pizza and pasta kick, but I’ve grown in other ways. I do appreciate the culture – in a way, I wouldn’t have if I only came here for a week. I love my classes, and I’m learning in a new and different way than I’ve ever learned before. I miss my friends back home, but I have some amazing people in my life now that I would never have met anywhere else.
As it turns out, not many people felt the immediate regret that I did. They regretted not coming with friends or regretted not picking better classes, but they loved Italy. I wish I had had that attitude because I can’t believe that I ever felt it wasn’t an absolute dream come true to be here, but I know that I can’t be the first or only person ever to feel that way.
It wasn’t until I’d gotten comfortable – you could say I finally hit the water after about a week or two of free fall (see my previous article) – that I finally started to enjoy myself until I went to the store and branched out from my usual chicken nuggets and red sauce. Until I went out with my friends as we watched the sunset from the most beautiful piazza in all of Tuscany (personal belief).
And now here I am, enjoying every moment of my life, and I know I never belonged anywhere else.
