Taylor turned to me as we walked through Italian customs and expressed her excitement to enter her 40th country since age 13. I thought about that for a second; I know I am well-traveled, yet I can count all of the countries I've been to on less than two hands. That’s when I knew this excitement wouldn’t only be learning about Italian culture on my ten-day excursion abroad, but about the culture of travel.
I knew I couldn’t predict how my trip to Italy would make me feel as I packed up my things. I was scared and overwhelmed. My previous nine months living in the country became the best of my life, and I didn’t want to lose the magic that surrounded all the cherished memories I have. Before I took off, I was concerned with my potential losses, but I should’ve been focused on the potential gains.
When I left for Italy, I had left the United States three times total, no more than seven days at a time, and only once to Europe. Leaving to study abroad was a choice I made between rooting myself in one place for a while and establishing a new home, or staying on the move in hopes of seeing as much of the world as I could. The world of one who has chosen the former and one who has chosen the latter collided as customs were cleared and the driver drove us South.
I came back to Italy in fear, hoping desperately that the mental high, the sound of the melodic language and ancient silhouettes only visible during a sunset in the countryside would come racing back. My friend came to Italy to check another destination off her list, which I want to make clear is not a bad thing. Our reasons for travel are different, but we agree that traveling is meant to make you grow and each journey is a race against time.
Throughout the trip, I found myself concerned that the awe and wonder Italy made me feel would never register with my friend. I stressed about feeling alone, not because nobody else dear to me was physically present, but because my intense feelings about a place isolated me from not only my travel companion but all tourists around me. Undeniably I could see that my nine months caused me to see things differently, to accept chaos as normal and put a little bit too much faith in the system.
Contrary to what I thought would make me uncomfortable, it is exactly my comfort that began to freak me out. I see the beauty in both forms of travel. Robert DeNiro once said, “Italy has changed. But Rome is Rome.” I am overjoyed to announce that, in fact, he is right. I returned, welcomed with open arms and plenty of nostalgia, to see not much has changed. I realized then as long as I want a home in Italy, I can find one. However, every trip I take away from my crazy busy American life does not have to be back to the land of pizza and pasta. I want to see the world. I want to check more places off my list.
I’m not sure how long it will be until I return, and I don’t know where I’m off to next. All I know is I will be back, and as I attempt to mark new territory, I hope I don’t miss Italy too much.
