I have left Italy. Sitting in the London airport with six hours to kill, waiting for a plane that may or may not arrive, I am slowly, strangely, beginning to understand the reality of that sentence. My study abroad semester is done and, if all goes well, I'll be in Richmond tonight.
It wouldn't be right to label this semester as a purely amazing, fantastic, perfect time. Going into such an experience, the idea of living in Tuscany for a semester is nothing but exciting. Everything is new, everything is different, and everything is remarkably idealized. With time, however, the quirks of that beautiful, colorful Tuscan apartment begin to pop up and, what was once labeled "character" soon becomes an annoyance. Such an extended stay in any one place gives a visitor the time to fall into superficial lust, utter disillusionment, and then (hopefully) in contented love with the city, warts and all.
Every moment was not perfect, every bite of food not delicious (though every scoop of gelato was phenomenal). The internet never worked, the toilet paper wouln't flush, adn the showers were cold. There were days homesickness completely overtook me and days I wanted nothing more than the New York subway, a cup of coffee to go, and a drying machine to shrink my jeans. But for all those days, there were twice as many truly amazing experiences and I am fully comfortable stating every cliche phrase to describe the momentous impact this semester has had on my view of the world and on my development as an individual.
I am anxious to see what aspects of "reverse culture shock" most impress me because already, I know that these four months have forced me to grow up (as much as I may have resisted).
There are functional changes: I spent the semester shopping and cooking for myself, I was forced to budget my spendings, I mastered all sorts of complicated forms of transportation, and I did most of this in a foreign language. And there are also more personal changes: I've been forced to cope with difficulties on my own, (though I'll be the first to admit that skype did make mom-advice readily accessible), I've learned a bit of humility by struggling to do the most basic things and begging for patience with my language skills, and I've truly come to recognize and appreciate my blessings.
Siena is a beautiful city and a wonderful place to study. On my last walk through the Campo, the magic of the place really struck me for the first time in several months; it's hard not to become immune to the beauty of the architecture and landscape when you see it every day. I hope one day to return (almost as much as I hope this plane will arrive at 5:00). One more flight, 8 more hours, and I'm home!
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