Prepare for Departure: The Italian Adventure Is Ending
Reflecting on Universal Lessons of Love, Diversity, Poverty, and Diplomacy

It is now less than a week until we seal our luggage, close our apartment doors for the last time, pile into taxis and head off to the airport to make the trip back home. Right now volcanic ash from Iceland is grounding many international flights so we shall see what happens. The emotions are mixed from people I have talked to. Some are terribly sad and want to stay. Others are leaving behind boyfriends and hopes of returning to Italy to live and work one day. Others are making last minute trips to see places they haven’t seen yet, while others are extending their stay for excursions to Spain or Greece. For me, I am leaving Italy grateful and reflective; I am looking inward, and looking ahead.

I wish I could say I met my Italian love, that we had a winter of romance and now will continue a long distance letter writing discourse until our burning hearts and desires reunite again in New York City or Italy. In my first blog in Italy, I wrote about the Piazza Michelangelo and how lovers have carved their names on the lookout over Florence and I wondered if I would do that too, join the other lovers with their vespas, pizza boxes, and kisses. Would the romantic and mysterious mist in the air strike me?

Insert laughter here, no such thing happened; maybe it is only for the movies. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I didn’t look or try hard enough, maybe looking was the problem, oh, a world of endless maybes. I think I am in love with the idea of romance and soul mates, of dreams and possibilities. Do we ever know what we are looking for when we set off for a journey, travel to a destination unknown? Are we searching for anything at all? The silver lining in all of this is looking back and recognizing all the other things we have learned when love wasn’t knocking at our door. For me, it was a confirmation that international relations was the field I should study and that seeking a worldly education is a process, and that even on sidewalks and streets, lessons can be learned.

“Look at how a country treats its minorities and that will tell you something of the country’s character.” I heard this quote a long time ago, and can’t place who said it, maybe it was a former president, a civil rights leader, or a human rights activist, what is important is that it spoke of a truth many countries are grappling with. Tourists, students, and Italians alike see the face of immigration every day. We see it in the eyes of the young man from Africa trying to make a living selling his imitation handbags and paintings. We see it in the Chinese restaurant struggling to compete with strict Italian business laws and guidelines and prosper. We see it in the poor beggars and ethnic gypsies that roam Italy’s streets and piazzas. Seeing these communities with my own eyes and learning about immigration in the Italian life and culture humanities class has given me new insight on the face of a modern and changing Italy. I have seen similar parallels between the experience and treatment of minorities and immigrants in Italy with those in the United States and at the same time vast differences. Italy is still in its early stages of grappling with the influx of immigrants to its shores and trying to find what is the best solution to move a country forward where not just Italians are calling Italy a new home. The point I am making is not a policy debate about immigration, but one of human dignity. What does it hurt us to give a coin or two to the woman begging? If they ask for your gelato, why not have a spoonful for you and give it to them, you can buy another. Instead of whipping past them with our coats and bags, why not look them in the eye when they talk to you and greet them, say good morning, why not.

Cultural diversity should be welcomed and celebrated not shunned and feared. We see news reports of Italian police raiding and shutting down Chinese textile factories. There is a fear and mistrust that is palpable, they are “the other”, the Italians say have damaged small family businesses. In a Chinese restaurant I see the Italian regulation in place, that foreign eateries must include some Italian food, the government has mandated this. Thus it was a new experience when I entered a Chinese eating establishment and ordered Cantonese rice and a slice of pizza. I recently ate a curry restaurant labeled Mediterranean Cuisine where lasagna and espresso are served alongside Indian milk tea and tandori chicken. I struck up a conversation with the waiter and learned he and the other staff comes from Pakistan. I have only read about Pakistan and heard about news and terrorist hideouts from Pakistan. Yet, here before me was the first Pakistani I have ever met, in Italy, communicating in neither of our mother tongues. Behind the headlines and exotic food, are a people with a rich history, and what a waste it would be to never get to know this. I want to go beyond the headlines and discover for myself.

If anything has been affirmed by coming to Italy it is the message “keep exploring.” I want to keep exploring the world: India, Africa, China, and Australia. The earth is so huge, how will I ever make it everywhere in a lifetime? Yet there is beauty in the shared humanity that binds us. No matter what language we speak, what color our skin is, what food we eat or what place we call home, we, the human race, all strive for a good life. Is that not what binds the middle class family in America to the farm workers in Mexico to the beggars and vendors in Italy, and even my own story, it is the struggle to escape poverty. The global family is indeed interdependent and interconnected.

I have also learned diplomatic skills and how to be a good ambassador by learning from the few who don’t show the best face of America. Being drunk in public is shunned here; it is not a bella figura or good impression. I remember walking home one night on St. Patrick’s Day, and a group of Americans were stumbling near the river, extremely loud, with their leprechaun hats on they were also playing sword fights with beer in the other hand. The look of people walking nearby was one of shock, they were appalled. A few days later an American student from another school was in the news for falling off a balcony and injuring himself after he was drinking. Alcohol abuse is a reality and problem here but where is it not? At the same time, I have learned just as we have perceptions and stereotypes of Italians they have perceptions of us. Sometimes, I have found, it is the rare moments of conversation where education takes place, where stereotypes are confirmed or dismissed.

My perspective is just one, it is an American perspective, limited, even bias, and I am aware of that. Others on this trip will have their own interpretation and have an entirely different and unique set of memories and experiences that have defined their time in the bel paese, or beautiful country we call Italy. The challenge I have to readers of this is go off and define your own perspective. Plan the trip you have always wanted to go on but find an excuse to not go. Spin the globe and see where your finger lands. Stepping out into the world and the unknown may be scary at first, but the rewards are great and memories are plentiful, and one day maybe shared over a glass of wine and a bowl of pasta.

To the readers of this blog: thank you for travelling with me, for taking time to view the slideshow of photos and read my thoughts. I hope you have enjoyed the journey and I look forward to the next one. Stay tuned for a video I am currently working on taking a look back at the trip through the eyes and voices of the students who experienced it. I will email a link when it is complete. Grazie mille e arrivederci!