I’m currently on my grand adventure abroad.
Sono a Padova — which means I’m in Padua, Italy. I think I’m somewhat shell-shocked, because of the huge shift in my day-to-day structure of life. I go from the lazy, hard-pressed-for-excitement month at home, to doing something pretty much every day, in a non-native language. My Italian improves daily, and my notebook of new vocabulary expands with each passing hour. The new life I lead here is so relaxed and slower-paced; my American style of walking quickly — and trust me, I am told I walk too slowly — surpasses the citizens here. I need to take a cue from the Italians, and slow down it all.
But I have discovered I’m a bit more homesick than I expected to be. It comes in short spurts, and I’m reminded of the huge distance between me and the people I left behind. I honestly believe that I have left behind pieces of myself, and while I’m here, I’ll be doing my best to fill those gaps with new people, new sights, new experiences. My life is a bookshelf. Some books were left behind, and some new books will have to take those places. When I return to America, I’ll have to restack the shelves to accommodate everything.
It’s amazing how we as humans can adapt so quickly to a completely foreign (in more than one sense) life.