Today I start my journey to Italy and I am equally terrified as I am excited. I have a travel agent for a mom so I grew up traveling and have grown quite accustomed to flying. This time was different because it was the first time I was flying internationally by myself. I practically had to pry my mom’s death grip off of me.
With that being said, when my parents and I finally parted ways I felt an instant rush of anxiety and that’s when it hit me that I was really on my own. As much as I claimed annoyance when my mom would give constant reminders a few days prior to me leaving,I think that she had the realization before I did that this was a big step and I wouldn’t have her to pick up the things I left behind or always being alert so I didn’t have to be.
After a few moments of pure panic that I was going to somehow miss my flight, I took a deep breath and got out of my head and told myself I could do this on my own and that I had no choice. Eight slow hours of flight time finally passed and I arrived in Rome.
I retrieved my bag and went to look for the SAI Representative who was scheduled to pick me up and take me to the hotel in Rome. (SAI is the program I'm on to study abroad.) At this point I have yet to breathe a sigh of relief. My representative is nowhere to be found and I must have circled the meeting area about ten times and of course taking out everyone I crossed paths with my bag, which was huge because I am a female fashion student studying in Italy for seven weeks. You do the math.
After about my eleventh time around a sweet Italian woman stopped me and offered to lend me her phone. Little did I know that this would be a glimpse of what most Italians are all about and that is love, kindness, and family.
Needless to say, in a few short hours I had made it to the promised land, the hotel. I spent the rest of the day taking short naps here and there as an attempt to get a little bit of life back in me. I was glad that I took that time and didn’t try to take on Rome the first day I got there because if I had I’m pretty sure I would have been found passed out at the Colosseum with pizza in one hand and a cannoli in the other trying to pack as much I could in the two short days I was in Rome.
I am happy to say that the day ended with me being fat and happy after the welcome dinner, which included homemade pasta, wine, and what I would call a gourmet cheesesteak without the bread (not actually sure what it was). And, no Italian dinner or should I say feast, is complete without a super sweet ending which was a gelato with fresh fruit. I could get used to this.