I am a lover of the touristy things in life. The darkness clouds my vision as I casually stroll down the sidewalk. I take a breath and the crisp, Parisian air fills my lungs, stinging the back of my throat. My hands feel like ice through my gloves, so I slide them into my coat pockets. An anticipated chill runs down my spine. I turn the corner and finally spot the glowing masterpiece I have been waiting so long to have the pleasure of seeing in person. The golden lights tower above me, immensely exceeding my expectations. The view is so much better than the movies. Romance reflects off of each and every glorious bulb and it is like I have the best seat at the concert. It is the closest I have ever felt to magic. If I have learned anything within these past few months, it would be that traveling is about discovery – the discovery of cities I have never been to, the person I am, and who I hope to be.
Before coming to Florence, studying abroad had always been tucked away in the back of my mind. But I was unsure as to whether or not it was something that all of me wanted. I have always been a cautious person. Choosing to take chances is often difficult, making my decision to go to Europe slightly more challenging. I always knew I wanted to travel, but my apprehensive self continued to question if this was the right thing to do. I also did not want to miss out on anything my home university had to offer. I discovered stepping on that plane was the best choice I ever made. The best chance I could have ever taken.
I settle into a chair at a round table occupied with unfamiliar faces, other than my best friend from school who had joined me on this wild ride of a semester. Everyone makes polite small talk, all in awe of where we are. As I sit in the dining room of The Grand Hotel Baglioni my first morning in Florence, eating my flavorless cereal and oddly enough, an assortment of cheeses, hundreds of thoughts roll around in my head. The room is filled with enthusiastic eyes and warm smiles of those I have never met before. Large glass windows cover the back wall; opening up to the city I can now call my home away from home. At the time, I came to the conclusion that Florence is known for their impeccable Italian cuisine, cheap wine and visually stimulating architecture. In other words, I was naïve. I did not have any preconceived notions about the journey I was about to embark on. I hold my phone up to the glass, attempting to capture my first monumental moment abroad, unsure of what the next few months will bring.
The person I was on this day is drastically different than the person I am right now. Today, my handmade sandals I purchased in Greece hit the uneven cobblestone streets. I confidently make my way through the maze of buildings, which were only seemingly identical at first glance. I do not feel lost or unsure as I walk the streets that often open up to unforeseen piazzas. I am content, comfortable. The bustling atmosphere of cars, vespas, and people I find myself surrounded by on a daily basis are not so daunting anymore. I push open doors to various establishments and am still overcome with curiosity, even after all this time. I turn around and am in the presence of The Duomo of Florence. The vastness of this incredible structure and the way it is somehow placed effortlessly between the Florentine buildings never fails to shock and amaze me. My surroundings simply never lack enthusiasm. The eye-catching architecture of The Duomo, the unpleasant stenches and sugar-coated aromas, and the way the vivid colors of a weekend sunset melt into the Arno River. Whether I am going to class, the grocery store, or to my apartment, I am walking through a museum. The details of this wonderful place are imprinted in my mind. Each and every one of those details are a part of the city’s history, a prominent feature in my present, and a foundation for the future. But how does a city like this even exist?
Every weekend turns into a new adventure. It is almost impossible not to be spontaneous. Not many people can say they visit a new country almost every weekend and have Italy to come back to. I look forward to each break from school more than ever before because it means I have space for opportunity and exploration. I have made my way to destinations I never thought I would have, making every trip that much more special. My study abroad experience is unique to say the least, making it the most indescribable and incomprehensible part of my life thus far – in the best possible way. I have been pushed out of my comfort zone more times than I can count, on my way to becoming the person I always hoped to be.
Some people were born to travel. The people who crave some type of adventure, who do not mind living out of a suitcase, and are not overcome with fatigue if departure is before the sun is up. The people who feel content on a bus or plane or train. The people who have an overwhelming desire to cross things off their bucket lists. The people who have the word wanderlust carved into their brains. I believe I am one of these people. I am diseased in the best possible way. Somewhat sickly. I caught a severe travel bug while I have been abroad. I am pretty sure I have always had it, but living here has ignited something inside of me. I am enchanted and more curious than ever before. I feel as though I have come such a long way since I got on that plane.
I have made my way around this continent a fair amount, but sometimes I find myself feeling slightly disappointed and not completely satisfied. This is only because there is simply not enough time to go everywhere before my months in Florence come to a close. It makes me sad to see how fast the weeks are flying by. Saying this most likely makes me seemingly spoiled and ungrateful. Well, I know that I am spoiled. But I can also say I am the furthest thing from ungrateful. I realized very early on that I am seeing and experiencing things most people will only ever dream about. I am eternally grateful for what this place has brought into my life. I wish I could fully express every inch of the places I have seen to the people I care about at home. I unlatch the wooden windows to let the spring breeze and glistening sunlight of spring inside. The scent of fresh pizza dough from a restaurant below wafts through the kitchen, inducing my empty stomach. It is difficult to process what I am actually doing here. It never quite feels real.
For as long as I can remember, I have been talking about visiting Paris, France. I actually surprised myself by venturing to other European destinations first. I had an unspeakable and indescribable love for this city that I had never been to, inspiring the choice to take French in high school. My plan was to be fluent in the language and visit Paris. But of course, things do not always go as planned. As I stare up at the sparkling tower before me, my dilated pupils quickly fill with tears. I attempt to focus through the saltiness, not wanting to miss a minute of its astonishing beauty. The lights blur together and a satisfying grin immediately forms across my face. A wave of calmness washes over me, the cold no longer bothersome.
Many of my days and nights run together because my environment changes in an instant. The time has gone by so quickly. As I sit in my apartment my last week in Florence, I am content. I am content with the places I chose to visit, the people I met along the way, and overall how I spent these past few months in Europe. It is because of this that I am inordinately somber about leaving the life I created here. Florence is a perfectly painted picture in which I cannot stray from. Every crevice of the city gives both tourists and locals a taste of what this place has to offer. Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my friends and family. I am excited about being able to use my cell phone wherever I choose to do so. And I cannot wait to have access to my closet full of clothes I left behind. Although these things hold a fair amount of relevance in my life, I have learned to live quite comfortably without them. But I can say that there will never be anything to fill the void of Europe once I am back in the States. This experience will forever be unmatched to anything else. I am going to miss the roommates I became close with, the delectable pizza and pasta of Florence, and the somewhat carefree and adventurous attitude that comes with being abroad. Each day holds a sense of exploration that makes me feel elated. I had heard several times that traveling changes people. I was often skeptical of this because I was simply unsure of how a trip could be so impactful and in what ways. I just never felt that way before. As my time on this beautiful continent comes to a grinding halt, I can whole-heartedly say that this statement is true. This experience has opened me up, making me brave. I am no longer intimidated and do not feel lost or overwhelmed by my discoveries.
As I stand on the edge of a cliff in Positano, Italy, I am extremely nervous about the fall. I never put myself in situations such as these. Every slight breeze that passes feels as though it could knock me off the staggering rocks beneath my bare feet. The beating sun is seemingly at eye-level and my whole body is trembling. The fear I feel has completely taken over, but I know this is something I want to be able to say I did. All I need in this moment is to drown out the screaming voices of my friends in the boat below and to gain a burst of courage that people do on the big screen. My left hand turns white because of the tight grip I have on my GoPro. After much hesitation, I take a leap forward on the count of three. I smack against the overpowering, salty water, which quickly flows through my mouth and up my nose, despite all my efforts to avoid it. As I tread through the ocean, attempting to catch my breath, I feel proud and accomplished. I am proud for how far I have come in such a short amount of time.
The foreign has quickly become the familiar. A passionate energy that Florence radiates will stick with me. The artistic and enlightening vibe heavily shines through any bleakness I cannot quite let go of. A wide range of emotions occupy my thoughts as I begin to pack my soon to be overweight suitcase. My inevitable departure from Florence will touch me in a ways that I will most likely not be able to fully comprehend. Before I left in January, I read somewhere that wandering is better than wondering. Whether I am at home or not, and no matter where or how far I choose to wander, I will take pieces of Europe with me, especially with knowing it will always have a piece of me.
