Reflecting on my program experiences thus far has been quite easier than initially thought. I feel that during my travels to Italy I have already changed exponentially. Learning independence was easy for me as a child and it also came with ease into my adult years but I still carried the reserve of someone who had lived a sheltered life. Even more so now due to the developmental years that shaped me so much taking place during the pandemic. My golden age in which I was to purge all restless desires to reach corners of the world that seemed so hidden from me were stolen. These are my thoughts as those two wheels of the plane touch down onto the tarmac. 

Stepping off the plane I felt as though the new faces, languages, and atmosphere squeezed me into a hug. Familiar like the hugs I received from grandparents at Christmas. Almost as if to say to me, “welcome, we have missed you.” I barely had the energy to take in my new home. It was a blur of anxiety and excitement, pulling my mind into the-depths of my skull, and tucking it away where the memories seem to vanish as I try to recall them now. 

Upon arriving in Ariccia, the palace took my breath away as the Chigi crest greeted me in the entrance. I stopped to pause only for a second before I emerged into the fast paced classroom environment that was set into place to help me adjust to my new ‘home.’ The first day of lessons taught me about the inner-workings of Chigi itself. Ranging from the tour of the palace’s art to the tour of the classrooms drawers full of hidden essentials at my disposal. 

I have not felt inspired in so long. Therefore, walking into the palace and seeing art at such a scale  made my hands itch to hold a pencil to paper and see where it takes me. The town itself invoked sadness at first, because through my eyes I saw a town of so much value and culture that has been overlooked by an era of influencers who only travel to influence their own egos. There is instead a lot to value in Ariccia. The people here are hard workers. You see it in the old man’s hands that swept outside his shop. Knuckles torn, repaired, and hardened through the years of duty to his home. The man who bakes in darkness. Using the scents of dough and herbs to light the way for people to find him. The children here I find most interesting, I want to know their dreams. I want to listen to their stories and watch them grow. There is so much potential in this town that I have seen and wish for the rest of the world to see as well. I wonder if they can see it too?

Avery Johnson