Although there might be a song reference in the title to “Living on a Prayer,” don’t let it fool you—I’m not excited for my experience to already be halfway over. However, with that being said, I am more than grateful to have about two months left in this beautiful country. So far, I can say that my journey has made me fall more in love with Italy, especially the city of Florence, more than I could have ever imagined. There are a lot of differences between here and my Pitt community and home, but I think it’s the differences that make me love it here so much.
It’s different here because the people are different. Italian people have their own way of life, customs, and cultural norms. For example, don’t try to have a cappuccino after 12 in the afternoon—they’ll scoff at you and say, “Oh, you’re an American.” But also, don’t get into a conversation with an Italian if you’re only planning on staying for 30 seconds, because a 30-second conversation turns into 30 minutes. Then, they’ll ask, “What do you do for dinner? You should go to this restaurant.” My favorite thing has been learning more about this beautiful culture—a culture that I am so proud to have in my heritage. Reconnecting with my roots was a main reason I came here, and I can say, successfully, that I have. In doing so, I’ve needed this reconnection more than I ever realized.
Even though I’m thousands of miles away from my Pitt community and New Jersey, which is where I technically call home, I’ve never felt more at home in my life. The cultural differences can sometimes make me uncomfortable, as I do feel a bit of shock when I don’t speak the national language fluently. I look around and realize how far I am from home, but being immersed in this culture and the way of life has made me feel more at home than I do in America. Maybe it’s because of my heritage, maybe because I’ve studied the culture, or maybe because I’ve longed to be here for so long. Italy is now officially on my list of places I can consider home. The food is my comfort food. The air is a crisp type of air that reminds me of crisp mornings in the fall. The smell of coffee and baked goods as I pass the bakery at eight o’clock in the morning is intoxicating. The sound of my barista saying, “Buongiorno signora, come stai?” has become a daily luxury that I know I will miss once I’m back in the US.
There’s a sense of personability here. In the US, there’s immense consumerism and a focus on quick transactions—you mobile order at Starbucks because it’s quick, then rush to class, or you order dinner at a kiosk, and five minutes later, it’s Friday, and you wonder where the week went. But that’s not how things are here. You go into a coffee shop, sit down, and talk to the barista, or just observe the people around you. You don’t take it to go, maybe only occasionally if I’m in a rush. Even then, my barista knows me and says, “Have a nice time at work.” That’s something I don’t get back in the United States, where I’m supposed to call home. When I eat out, I don’t touch a kiosk and hope my food arrives in five minutes. No, I sit down, enjoy life, breathe in my surroundings, and take everything in that this beautiful country has to offer. It’s the simplest things that have brought so much joy to my life.
The sights of Piazza Santa Croce, when I walk there at night just to sit and think, or the sounds—the sounds of music playing when you expect the streets to be quiet, and there’s a faint sound of a violin, or you hear opera singing in the distance. You walk toward it because the sound is intoxicating, and you find yourself standing there for 40 minutes, just listening and observing. I’ve learned in this country to be an observer. Back home in the United States, people would tell you that I’m definitely one who loves to talk, and while that’s still true here and I have my conversations with locals, I’ve learned to be more of an observer. I wanted to immerse myself in the culture, and the best way to do that is to sit and observe. Watch the locals, see what they eat, see what they do, see how they interact, walk, and talk. In doing so, I think I’ve become more Italian at heart, to the point where the Star-Spangled Banner is being overtaken by the Italian flag.
In this blog post, I want to commemorate a typical day here. To start off, it’s different from my typical day back in the United States, and I think that’s because I romanticize it here more. I wake up early in the morning, get myself ready for the day, especially because I usually go to work at a law firm. I walk to my local cafe, about five minutes away, and sit down with my cappuccino and croissant. I talk to the barista in Italian because he knows I love to practice. I breathe in the morning air and watch my surroundings, reminding myself how grateful I am to be here. By the time I reach my destination, it doesn’t even feel like a long walk because I romanticize just walking. Then after I work and do school, I try to take a different route back—sometimes I don’t, if I’m tired—but I still romanticize that walk, whether it’s five minutes or 30.
I usually eat with my roommates at night, and we all debrief about our day. Occasionally, we love to go out for gelato, and from that I have learned that my favorite time to walk around Florence is at night. It’s because it’s not quiet; it’s lively. That’s when Florence, in my opinion, comes to life in a more artistic way. The opera singers, musicians, and street performers come out at night, and people dance and sing in the street. I think it is impossible not to breathe in all the culture around you, and every day I can’t help but think, “I’m living the dream that five-year-old me always wanted to live.”
So, if there is anything I will take back to the United States from this experience (and there are many things, including a huge sense of self that has fallen into place), it’s the ability to romanticize life, even in the littlest moments. Even when it seems normal or unromantic, the Italians show you that it can be.
Fino alla prossima volta,
Bella