I am an observer. I am an outsider here, a newcomer with fresh eyes. In Italy, even the things that are ancient are brand new to someone whose home country’s definition of antiquity is about 200-300 years old. Even the things I should be accustomed to, like ambulances, traffic lights, vending machines, pharmacies, and grocery stores, are new. I have found that the best way for me to adjust to my new surroundings is to observe.

I brought my camera to Italy with me because it helps me see. It helps me pay attention to the things I may not otherwise notice or remember. And because I now have the habit of seeing the world through my viewfinder, I am a better seer even without my camera. I take in one detail at a time. One frame at a time. I look where people forget to look. I change my posture so I can see better, squatting and leaning and turning my head sideways. I walk slowly so I can get the shot, either with my camera or with my mind’s eye. I am an observer instead of a main character. It helps me be part of my surroundings in a way that honors and respects them.

Sometimes we go into churches or villas where frescoes cover the walls. They are bold and colorful and beautiful. But they have not always been protected and preserved the way they are now by red velvet ropes. They used to be vulnerable to mischievous teenagers and couples who would etch their names and the year into the ancient frescoes. If you look closely, you can find graffiti from the 1700’s and older. This is a detail many miss, but my eyes have been trained by my camera’s viewfinder to see the small details of the etched graffiti even before they see the image of the fresco. Other observers notice them too, but many pass them by. These etchings are complex because while they are a sad defacement of precious art, they are also a little-known glimpse into what people were like on a very relatable level hundreds of years ago. They got into trouble, they had crushes on girls and boys their age, and they thought of 1772 and 1889 and 1940 the same way I think of 2021. This in an artifact you won’t find on a guided tour. You’ll have to look closely for yourself. And train your eyes to capture the details, with or without a camera.

Happy Capturing!

Hollen Terry, Fall 2021

5,168.

That’s how many miles away Palazzo Chigi is from my childhood home in Tallahassee, FL. 5,168 miles between me and my family, between me and my mom’s homemade lemon poppyseed cake, between me and the comfortable and familiar life I have always known.

Before coming to Italy, I expected to feel uncomfortable and out of place—that seemed a normal thing to experience for anyone that lives in a foreign culture for two and a half months. I never expected, however, to find any sense of home or belonging in a place so different and unfamiliar. How could I? How could a place so far away, filled with people I don’t know, ever remind me of the things, the places, and the people that I love?

The reality is that, at some point, this town snuck up on me. Ariccia, its people, and my classmates have all made me feel included and loved. They have proven a comforting constant through times of uncertainty, and have taught me the importance of patience, confidence, and open-mindedness. They have shown me that it is important to recognize your smallness in the world, but to never forget your capabilities and your impact.

The people that I’ve met over the past seven weeks have also shown me that home is more than just a building or a town or a place. It’s a warm smile from Maris or a contagious laugh from Ana. It’s a hug from Kelli or a genuine conversation with Sophie. It’s a funny joke from Olivia or the smell of India’s popcorn cooking on the stove in the kitchen. It’s exactly what I make it, and I know that I will always carry small pieces of it with me.

I am grateful to say that this experience thus far has taught me invaluable lessons that have shaped who I am. It has pushed me to be better than I thought I could be and has challenged me to dream more ambitiously. To embrace discomfort. To search for the commonalities that unite us as people, no matter how different we may seem or where we may be in the world. But above all, it’s shown me what home really is—the summation of the experiences, feelings, and people that we love. The things that bring us reassurance and the memories that we never want to forget.

I know that my home may still technically be that house in Florida 5,168 miles away—the place that I’ve always known—and it might also be my little one-bedroom apartment in Auburn where I feel content and secure. But they say that home is where the heart is, and I think it’s safe to say that a piece of mine will always be in this quaint and unassuming little town that I’ve grown to love.

So wherever, whoever, or whatever your home may be—I hope you know that no matter where you are or what season of life you are in, you never truly leave it behind. You take pieces of it with you wherever you go. And, if you just so happen to end up in Ariccia, Lazio, Italy, just know that there’s a whole community waiting to welcome you with open arms. Maybe even a community that you might someday consider home.

Best wishes and ciao for now,

Gabby Thabes

I found that one of the most important things for me to get the best experience while studying abroad is to push myself out of my comfort zone. This may sound obvious, but it is important because it is where I learn the most about me and where I am. No experience in Italy is the same as it is at home, even buying stamps and ordering cappuccinos was hard and awkward at first (honestly they still are sometimes). But eventually these things become more normal and comfortable, then there is room to try something new again. 

I have been pushing myself to try new things and now I have found myself a part of a kick boxing training group. Making the 1.2 mile walk up the hill to the Parco Romani Biodistretto was nerve racking for the first couple of classes. Ana and I didn’t know if we would be able to understand what was going on or if the group would be open to two inexperienced American girls crashing their training. It turned out that both instructors, Gabriele and Emanuele, spoke amazing English and were willing to help two struggling girls try to learn good form for a jab (I think… I’m still new at this).

Every Tuesday and Thursday, in addition to learning something new physically and mentally, I have been able to just be an observer rather than the observed. 

Usually moving around as a group of fourteen American girls in Italy we become a spectacle and tend to dominate a space. Going to kick boxing class has been one of the only spaces where I have been able to feel like a part of something where people are focused on a common goal instead of us. It is one of the only places I have been able to observe people living their normal life and participate without totally disrupting it. Don’t get me wrong, we still don’t make it easy on them: our Italian is sub-par, and they have to explain a lot of things for us in English, but we are learning. I have learned a lot of new words and phrases. I don’t know where I would have learned things like “pancia terra” (on your stomach) and “cambio!” (change) without this experience. 

The best advice I can give from my experience here so far is to keep pushing yourself once you realize that you feel comfortable. Also, while here, push yourself at some point to do something alone or with one or two others, so you can really see how people live their lives without everybody around. It could be acquainting yourself with somebody at the market, becoming a regular at a coffee shop, or sitting in the piazza to watch people in their normal lives.

Who knows what my next step to push myself will be. Maybe it will be to actually speak some Italian when I go to class. Maybe it will be to tell Gabriele and Emanuele how much Ana and I appreciate all the extra work they do to help us amateurs, feel included in the class. Maybe it will be to go to the produce shop where I have to speak to the shop owner instead of going to the grocery and picking out my own food. Whatever it is I’m ready for it and I encourage you to be too.  

Best, 

Sophie Young

“Where are my shoes?” my mom would question; once, twice, even three times a day. My dad would find his leather slippers missing and my sisters’ sandals were never to be seen. Even the guests, leaving our house after a visit, would ponder over where they last left their shoes, and why they were not conveniently by the door. 

I have always been fascinated by shoes. I am not entirely sure why or how it started, maybe I had a young eye for design or maybe it just was a mischievous way for me to play dress-up when nobody was looking. My reasoning has since evolved and I have found a deeper, less materialistic meaning to shoes and a further appreciation for the special tools that help us move about our individual lives. 

Here in Italy, I have seen all different kinds of shoes, some with familiar branding but others I have never heard of. Some are worn, evident of a fulfilled life, while others are fresh and clean, maybe even worn by a smiling child: eager to show off their new back-to-school look. The best place to observe is the Roma Termini train station. It is filled with fast paced people heading to a part of their varying paced lives. All equally important and honestly at the root of it all, quite similar to one another. At the least, their shoes are the common denominator. 

I have been able to find at least one thing in common with every person here, even if language is not one of them. Being able to travel has not only allowed me to see just how small I am in this large world, but also has allowed me to gain a new perspective on the everyday, mundane parts of life. I enjoy feeling small and unobserved because I feel free and untethered. I am free to live and learn from mistakes without many external worries.  I have obtained more knowledge these last 6 weeks than I could have ever imagined and am excited to translate what I have learned while I finish school and begin the next phase of my life. 

There will come a time, hopefully many years ahead, where the memories of Italy will not be so fresh in my mind. I won’t remember the correct way to pronounce certain words or the feeling of sipping an espresso will begin to feel foreign. But, I know that I will always remember the Docs that encompassed Jessie so well. I will remember the white sneakers with tie-dye laces that Sophie consistently wore. The platform converse Morgan rocked and the silver Supergas Sandra shocked our class with. How could I forget about Gabby’s tiny, embroidered Nike blazers? 

I encourage those who are reading this to find something special that you can observe. Something that often catches your eye and you can’t help but respectfully stare. Find things that are interesting to you and that you will remember. Recognize those things but also their surroundings. Get curious! Think of questions and ask them if you can. You will be able to remember these moments for the rest of your life. 

Our shoes have been an essential tool of our experience in Italy. They have allowed us to walk the ancient Roman streets, dance in Sorrento, climb the Spanish steps and ultimately, arrive safely back home in 6 short weeks. 

Remember, just take it one step at a time and don’t forget to look at cute shoes along the way. 

Love,

Ana Hanger

From the moment I arrived in Italy and stumbled out of our bus into the streets of Ariccia, I felt something different. It wasn’t the smell of espresso coming from Antico Cafe, or the Mediterranean sun warming our cheeks, but it was the knowledge that our time here was going to be very different when compared to any of our previous adventures. On our first day of class the next morning, Lacey said something that has stuck with me since. “The days are long, but the weeks are short,” she told us. At that moment, I realized that in order for me to appreciate this trip as much as I possibly could, I was going to have to change my mindset completely so that I could utilize my time in Italy to its fullest. Since then, my semester has been nothing short of indescribable.

Singular moments stick out to me more than others: my first porchetta sandwich, getting to hear Mary Lou talk for the first time, or laughing with my friends as we accidentally ordered an appetizer big enough for ten people; This isn’t to say, however, that things aren’t hard. Early mornings, brutal walks through Rome, and some… interesting hotel rooms on weekend excursions make certain days crawl by at a frustratingly slow pace. However, assignments I saw as being forever away in the future are coming at a quick pace now, and weekend excursions I anxiously waited for are around the corner with shocking immediacy.

This semester has flown by- there’s not a question about that. It’s more gratifying than sad, however, when I think about all of the little things I’ve learned to appreciate in the meantime, because even though they seemed to crawl by, those moments have beauty. Grueling walks in Rome turned into side-splitting laughing fits with Ectore, our guide. Early mornings meant naps on the bus and sharing music recommendations, and some “character-filled” hotel rooms encouraged us to go explore the cool cities we were visiting. Coming to Italy and adopting this mindset has made me realize this too: you can apply the same principle to life. In life, some of the days are going to be long. And I am talking very long. But, you are one day going to look back on those weeks and wonder what you could have seen if only you had realized. I am so grateful that I did. 

A Big War Eagle, and an Even Bigger Arrividerci!

Emily Fackler

My classmates and I decide to go to a neighboring town called Genzano for our first weekend in Ariccia. We scoured the various clothing stores in Genzano touching each item that we saw. There aren’t a lot of contemporary luxury stores or luxury stores of any kind for that matter in Aricca or Albano the next town over. Most of the stores in Alabano are stores that are priced fairly. As we strolled through Genzano a shop caught my eye with glamourous boots and bags, I knew it was pricey, but we didn’t go in the shop just yet. We continued our stroll through the affordable boutiques touching and trying on various items. After we finished our final walk through the corso, we decided to go back to the store that caught our attention. We walked into the expensive store and didn’t greet the sales associate. That was our first mistake, we continue to parade around the store gawking at the luxury items specifically merchandised on the display. I noticed the sales associate giving us a death glare as we picked over the items. I started to notice that everything we would touch the sales associate moved it back to its specific location, but I didn’t think anything of it. After parading around the store for 15 minutes we decided to leave dreaming over all the luxury pieces we saw. That following Monday we finally understood why we got those death glares, in Italian culture, it is accustomed to speaking to the sales associate when you walk in the shop and the most important rule is to always ask before touching an item on display. This interaction made me feel so disconnected with Italian culture becasue I thought touching items in the store was a normal practice to do anywhere. This interaction made me feel small and out of place even more so than I already was. From that moment on I never touched an item in store and without asking first.

At the time of this writing, tomorrow, October 1^st, 2021, will commemorate our first full month in Ariccia. I have only ever lived in Alabama and I have only ever resided with people of whom I am related. Tomorrow represents one full month of life across the world with six roommates, sharing bathrooms, pieces of ourselves, and shared experiences. Where I initially was hesitant of the culture shock, I now look forward to the discomfort, as I have learned to translate it instead to growing pains.  

These growing pains have been numerous, as almost nothing is what it initially seems. “Peperoni” on a pizza will result in bell peppers, ordering a “latte” at a coffee shop will mean a glass of warm milk, and a “frappe” is a milkshake almost never with coffee. The people here are kind, but in a different way from the South. Rather than the immediate hospitality of back home, the people of Ariccia display reservations at first, but then reveal themselves to be the most genuine, thoughtful people. I will make a point to never forget them.

Learning the Italian language has been a form of culture shock as well. With only my background in Spanish, my lack of Italian often leaves me frustrated. Ironically, locals will apologize repeatedly for not speaking perfect English; they only wish to be accommodating in their own spaces. The human condition of wanting to connect and empathize on a basic level gives me hope, and after an entire month of change and growth, I welcome the shock. I will cherish my remaining time with my thirteen-classmate support system and the wonderful people of this country.

“My 13-legged support system”

Maris Laney, Fall 2021