I don’t think I gave myself a proper amount of time to mentally prepare because of how fast everything happened. The entire process was complete in less than three weeks from the time I did research to when I registered for my classes. I showed up in Rome, and my routine started again. Orientation. Make friends. Class. Eat gelato. Find a good coffee shop. Study. Procrastinate. Find better food. The tasks piled up as they always did. The lists began to overflow with items of goals – future and already completed.
This past Sunday I stopped. My roommate and I took a walk to a lookout point and stood there for over an hour. That may not seem like a lot, but when you feel like each minute you are getting closer to the end of the best experience of your life you try to make everything count – to a point where things become calculating and more about mathematical equations figuring out what will lead to the most fulfillment than actually enjoying where you are. This thought process has led me to some regrets, missed sleep, and overly critical attitude. (Can you say serious case of fear of missing out – and I will openly admit that)? This weekend I realized that plans will change and as adaptable and independent as I am I can’t rely on other people to make me happy.
I am a relationship-oriented person, so typically those things make me the happiest. In Nashville I would rather sit down and have coffee with someone for 40 min than go to a party for three hours surrounded by 90 of my closest friends. Genuine. That’s what I crave, so why should that change in Italy? As fun as it’s been to go out with big groups of people and spend my days and evenings joking around and living wild and young and free that’s not where I’ve found the most joy. Some of my favorite memories to date are walks and talks just me and a friend. It’s where I’ve not only seen the most but I’ve also learned the most about my surroundings and whomever I’m with. They are special moments and I leave knowing my friendship with that person has changed for the better.
This past week I got back in my routine. Living is not something you just decide to do and not hit any ruts in the road or without falling back into old habits. I didn’t completely fail though. Along the battle between school and adventure this week I managed to meet a whole lot of people in the most random of circumstances. The saddest part about the whole thing is that we’ve officially reached ‘hump day’. We’ve hit the mid point. From here on out there are fewer days left in the semester than the number of days we’ve been here. Now instead of counting up we are counting down. Instead of figuring out how to adapt to the culture here we are trying to figure out how we are going to go back home. It’s no longer about what we will miss the most in the states – knowing the hour we will return. Now, we are talking about what we won’t get in our respective cities of the US that are so readily available here, that includes everything from 1 euro cappuccinos to ancient ruins to the incredible people who we’ve become friends with.
You always hear about studying abroad and how incredible they are, but honestly the best thing anyone can do for you is tell you to have no expectations. Yes, read people’s blogs and do the research, but if you come in thinking you know what you will find you will more than likely always be disappointed. I will confirm the rumors and say that so far this has been one of the best experiences of my life, but it’s not a walk in the park either. A friend of mine recently told me that being uncomfortable is when you learn the most. So here’s to getting dirty, being uncomfortable and becoming better for it.