Salve, amici. Well, it's been almost three weeks since I left Rome. Can you believe it? (I certainly can't.) I haven't posted for a while because a) I've been traveling and it's been VERY busy and b) it's been hard to bring myself to write this farewell message. Farewell to Rome, not to you; I've got lots to write before I throw in the towel completely. But my time in Italy is over. (Actually, though: My visa has expired and I cannot return for another ninety days.)
On my last day in the city, I did what I'd avoided for the past several months of living there: I became a tourist again. Most of the SMC girls had left that morning for home or whatever their interim destinations were. The sun was shining and - as my friends are sick of hearing me say - there is nothing more beautiful than Rome when the sky is blue. A light seems to radiate from the buildings themselves, reflecting the sunshine with a kind of warmth that is so different from the cold, steely light of most modern cities. The organic stone of church domes and monuments against blue sky is breathtaking, and on this day - April 16 - Rome had never been lovelier. Even the pollution-clogged Tiber sparkled a pretty green as I set out across town to take some final photographs and visit one of the final archaeological sites on my to-do list: the Baths of Caracalla.
The Tiber and Castel Sant'Angelo
Last glance at Saint Peter's
The Baths at last
After visiting the Baths, I walked slowly back through the Ancient City one last time, skirting the Palatine, swinging past the Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine, passing through the ancient Fora and in front of the Vittorio Emanuele monument in Piazza Venezia, and taking a few last-minute pictures of the victory temples in Largo Argentina. Then I joined the other two remaining Smicks for a final Italian dinner, glass of wine, and scoop of gelato...and one last adoring look at the Pantheon, my favorite building in the world.Early the next day, my cab driver took extra care to pass the Ancient City in the morning moonlight so I could see it one last time before I boarded a train and then a plane out of Italy.
I came to Rome expecting what I'd spent the last six years learning and dreaming about in Latin class: a magical, mythical mix of ancient and modern; a land flowing with olive oil and tomato sauce. I came expecting to be delighted by all there was to learn and thrilled by the exoticism of a foreign country. I expected Italian to come effortlessly after a few weeks of "immersion." I wasn't prepared for the noise, the traffic, the pollution, the crowds, the smoky air, the shattering bottles at two in the morning, the pushy salesmen, the blaring car horns...the fact that Rome was a city, a very living, very messy city with terrible WiFi and abysmal mail service. I wasn't expecting to be pushed and pulled and challenged and transformed so quickly or in the ways that I was. In the beginning, it was scary, and loud, and uncomfortable, and unfamiliar, and totally overwhelming. In the beginning, I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle seven months of it.
Last gelato, wearing the same jacket in the same gelateria as my first gelato
So, in addition to all that I'm still learning, that is one of the major lessons I took from La Città Eterna: honesty. I had to learn to be honest with myself and abandon what I'd expected to be true for what actually was true. I had to learn to accept what was present instead of vaguely chasing the way I thought it would or should be. And in exchange, I found something so much deeper, so much more meaningful, and so much more beautiful in Rome - and maybe even within myself as well - than I would have if it had been what I'd expected. I found a world of wonderful people, beautiful vistas, delicious flavors, vibrant colors, passionate songs, and thrilling stories. Rome was where I came alive in a brand new way.
As I said through tears in my final Italian class, Roma era il mio sogno. Rome was my dream. Now it is a home as well, for in a way it has become a friend that engaged me and thrilled me with its adventures and comforted me during times of loneliness and loss. It is a place I had to learn to love, in spite of its disastrous government, disappointing public transport, and life-threatening Vespas. I made friends and memories and progress there. Signor Bruno and Signora Patrizia, who looked out for us; Patrizio, who teased us; Stefano, who held my hand when my grandma died; Aldo, who'd talk to us for hours; all of my professors, who taught us about things that mattered. They made Rome home. And that will always mean the world to me.
I don't know when I will return to Rome, but I know now that I have to. It has too much of my heart for me to stay away, and I'm sure anyone who's spent any prolonged amount of time there can understand. And I am so, so grateful for the time I spent there, the lessons I learned, and the people I met. I'm grateful for everyone who made this dream come true for me, at home and abroad. And I'm grateful to you, for caring enough to go on this journey with me.
So in the words of Dean Martin: Arrivederci, Roma. Grazie per tutto, e ci vediamo...presto. :)
The view from my window
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