is the silly, little Wizards of Oz quote that has been reentering my head ever since I arrived in Rome nearly a week ago, but I couldn’t imagine a phrase more fitting.
I drove up to Canada over the summer to give the singular stamp in my passport some company and was fascinated by how un-foreign it all felt. Granted, the speed limits were posted in kilometers and the dollar bills were much shinier, but there was also a Canadian “Walk of Fame,” a Toronto “Times Square,” and a familiar fast-food chain on every corner. Nearly all the restaurants we went to featured Nashville hot chicken or Chicago-style pizza on the menu. It was almost as if we had traveled to an America-themed amusement park rather than a different country. This, however, was not the case for Italy. From the moment I stepped off the plane something in the air felt different (metaphorically, of course, as in reality the summer air in Rome is just as unbearably hot and humid as it is in the U.S.).
My arrival was the most chaotic travel experience of my life, this coming from a girl who once tracked her stolen AirPods through the airport for an hour before (defeatedly) boarding a flight back home, but I can’t say I didn’t expect to encounter trouble when traveling to a new country alone. The day before my flight, the airline added a mere 20-minute layover in Philadelphia which caused me to very nearly miss said flight to London and arrive in Rome five hours later than initially anticipated and without my checked luggage. Thankfully, I had packed a change of clothes in my carry-on, but the two days it took me to receive my massive suitcase felt like the longest two days of my life. Never can I recall feeling sweatier or greasier than walking through that very last airport in my plush, green lounge set. It was dark and late upon making it to campus and, though I had hardly eaten anything that day, all I wanted to do was take a shower and fall fast asleep.
Fortunately, things were already shaping up by the next morning. I was introduced to my eight roommates, the majority of which are a preexisting friend group from a university in California, and they are all beyond friendly. Navigating a new campus and attending orientation was a peculiar feeling. I felt like a freshman all over again whilst also thinking of my freshman sister back at the University of Denver beginning her own orientation very soon. And, though there was a split moment in which I thought to myself I could fly back home tomorrow and still be on time to catch the first day of classes in Denver, I knew I didn’t want to think of myself as the girl who couldn’t do it. Besides, I firmly believe tragedies are better suited for fiction than reality, so I shall leave you with a few of my favorite things about Rome so far.
First of all, it is an incredibly walkable city. Though my apartment is a whopping 30-minutes from campus by foot (which makes my previous housing situation of Centennial Towers suddenly look like light work), I happen to quite enjoy the inescapable daily exercise. And I wholly expect to leave here with legs of steel. I hardly have to walk anywhere alone with so many girls living in one apartment, but when I do there are always enough people out at all hours of the day that I feel relatively safe. There is a store on every corner for whatever you can fathom needing. The grocery store directly below my apartment has a bit of everything, but there are also several larger shopping centers, street markets, souvenir stores, pharmacies, pizzerias, gelato shops, and more.
Second of all, more so than any other place I’ve traveled to, I feel as though having a body is so normal here. And in saying body I am typically referring to the stomach. Growing up in the United States, but also just growing up online, has caused me to make note of all bodies all the time and the various ways in which they do or do not compare to mine. Whereas I previously occasionally found myself at the beach with the reminder that the majority of bodies do not look like the slim minority plastered online, here I see that reminder everywhere. Maybe it’s the all-carb diet or maybe it’s a widespread acceptance of realistic body types within the culture, but whichever it is it has me strutting around Rome with more confidence than I recall carrying about myself in the states.
Lastly, and perhaps my favorite thing about Rome, is I truly feel like I have laughed incredibly hard every day that I have been here. Whether it is a lively conversation with my roommates, an animated waiter at a restaurant, or a stranger at the bar, there seems to always be a reason to laugh when in Rome. And, as my best friend back in Denver likes to say, “You can tell what kind of people you want to be friends with by asking them if they have ever laughed so hard they’ve nearly peed their pants,” which has certainly rang true with all of mine.
A presto!
DU Abroad 