I’m back at home.

It feels like something is missing. It feels like nothing is ever going to be normal again. It all feels like it was a dream, yet it’s still so tangible I can close my eyes and still smell the stale air and feel the cobblestones beneath my feet.

I miss the feeling of having established a new life somewhere new in so little time. I miss walking by the same people every morning and knowing the shortcuts and going to the grocery store.

It’s really hard to be back. Nothing seems the same as how I left it- it’s all unfamiliar. I want to go back to Florence.

It’s funny how when you know you’re going somewhere, you make a list of all the things you want to do, places you want to see, people you hope to meet and you create these grand expectations, perhaps even subconsciously, and you carry them with you as if they’re to be stowed your suitcase and when you arrive at your destination you unpack them delicately and hang them up on the walls to remind yourself of just how your experience must be. But they fall off and the wind carries them out the window and if within the first two weeks things aren’t as extraordinary as you’d imagine you find yourself the slightest bit disappointed. But you push the disappointment down, because how could anyone possibly be disappointed when they live in such a beautiful place? How could you be so selfish? So instead, you remind yourself every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to sleep just how lucky you are to be here and you pinch yourself to make sure it’s all real life, and amaze yourself with how much you can take in from such a place. You breathe in deeper, you open your eyes wider, you savor the flavor longer, you caress a little softer. You find yourself entirely enamored with everything all at once and it’s overwhelming.

This past week was incredibly overwhelming. Maybe even beginning a few weeks back, everything has felt like a flawless whirlwind of events.

I never expected this week to pan out the way it has. I remember on my third night in Florence, sitting across from Justin Chung in an Argentinean bar, in the Santa Croce area, as he told us about the abundance of love in this city and how no matter where you went you could see it. From that moment on, I’d been simultaneously admiring and becoming sickeningly annoyed by every couple I’d seen making out every few feet. Perhaps my sentiments were tinged with a touch of jealousy. But then I got a taste of it myself. I fell in love, this week, in Florence. Twice.

Monday and Thursday night were hands-down, the best nights I’ve spent in this city. I don’t even know that I can put into words how perfect they were. I spent both with my absolute favorite person in this program and a new friend from Canada. Ed and Mark. The details are blurry, but these evenings were spent exchanging some of the most sentimental and heartfelt conversations I’ve ever had, into the early morning. I didn’t think it was possible for two people to mean so much to me in such a short amount of time, but it happened and it’s forced me to realize the inconsistency that is life. This was the last thing I expected, the greatest thing to have happened, and the hardest thing to say goodbye to.

Sicilia

My favorite so far. Palermo felt more like home than anywhere else I’ve been in Italy. It’s poor, dirty, and crowded with some of the kindest and most generous people I’ve ever encountered. Everyone just seemed happy. They didn’t seem so concerned with how many hours of work they had left, how much money they had in their pockets, or what tomorrow may entail. They were content exactly as they were, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?

Our seemingly “ghetto” hostel turned out to be my favorite place we’ve stayed in. We made some new friends, enjoyed a sangria party, and were treated like family. We enjoyed some of the best food I’ve eaten in Italy, including: arancini, canoli, spaghetti alla marinara, and brioche con gelato.

We spent our first day sight after we arrived and playing drinking games with other students by night. Our second day we wandered through the open markets where we conversed with locals and bought their trinkets. Then we sprawled across the sandy beaches of Mondello. The bluest beaches I’ve seen since I was in Hawaii. Later, we returned to the hostel to prepare for dinner which was, to say the least, buonissimo! At the restaurant we made friends with the waiters, two Sicilian brothers who invited us out with them later that night. After dinner, Christine and I (we called ourselves le due C(h)ristina after troppo limoncello) went to a dirty piazza filled with locals, loud music, and enough bars to keep the crowed going until morning. Eventually, we left that piazza to go to another one that we knew as “the bombed piazza.” It was crazy. There were so many people, young and old, from near and far. We met some Spaniards and Argentinians, and then a guy from Little Italy New York who was a break dancer and showed us some of his moved. At some point, the boys from the restaurant showed up and bought us a few rounds of drinks before bringing us to sit down ON VALERIO’S MOTORCYCLE. Christine and I were like little school girls, giggling in excitement, before properly conjugating verbs to construct the sentence to ask him if he’d give us a ride. Of course he obliged, and we each took a ride back through Via Roma. It was surely one of those experiences I will never forget. Eventually, Christine and I somehow made it back to our hostel where we crashed for about an hour before having to head out to catch our flight.

At the airport, I experienced the first time I actually didn’t want to return to Florence. Usually, I miss our familiar stomping grounds here, but not this time. I could have stayed in Sicily forever and I can’t wait to get back.

Roma. A place nearly impossible to sum up in a simple blog post.

Our train got in some time in the early morning and we headed straight to the hostel, where we could leave our backpacks. After that, we headed back to the metro station, hopped on the train, and got off at the Colosseum. Literally the moment we walked out of the station, the Colosseum was right before us, and it was incredible. Not to mentions, everything surrounding it was just as ancient and breath taking. Those first few moments in the center of Rome were certainly ones I won’t soon forget.

After entering the Colosseum and exploring a bit of the Roman Forum, we went on to see the Pantheon and Trevi Fountain. Seeing the Trevi Fountain has been a dream of mine probably since the time I understood what it meant to be Italian and as we approached it and could hear the water flowing, I could feel tears welling up. Standing in front of the fountain was surely one of the happiest and most surreal moments of my life. I threw my coin in and I know, without a single doubt, that I will return.

Following the Trevi, we made out way to the Spanish Steps. With the beautiful architecture surrounding, a setting sun, and some gelato, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect ending to an already perfect day.

The next morning we woke up early to head to Vatican City. Another surreal experience. Properly explaining all of the emotions I felt while I was there is impossible. We saw Michelangelo’s pietà, which again brought tears to my eyes. Knowing that my dad had been there decades prior, admiring the same piece of art, and being there myself gazing upon it and fully understanding the history and symbolism behind such a famous piece was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever had. I could have stood there all day. However, that was only the beginning. We walked around in awe through all of St. Peter’s Basilica and were even able to pray in a smaller, secluded area. That was when I think everything really hit me and I realized how lucky I was to be kneeling in a pew at the Vatican. How lucky I was to be in Rome. How lucky I was to be in Italy. How lucky I am to have this opportunity. Something that still feels so unreal.

Eventually, we made our way outside of the Basilica and into a small shop where we all wrote and sent postcards to our families. I can’t wait for them to receive those!

Later, we visited the the Vatican Museum, where we saw the Sistine Chapel. I have no words for it. All I know is that my expectation for our trip to Rome were exceeded so many times within those few hours in Vatican City that I just about lost it.

Rome was a beautiful experience, rich in Italy’s history and culture (and even a bit of Filipino culture sprinkled in there) and I’m making it a new goal to get back there very soon.

Rome has been incredible. Expect an extensive overview in the coming days.