“Home”

Hi everyone, I have to apologize for being away for so long- I promised a new column every week and have led you astray!  As the title of this post denotes, I have been away from Italy at “home”.  I was in New York and Florida for the holidays and for some unexpected bumps along the road.

After the inevitable 10-hour plane ride back to New York, I then took a bus and countless subways to my friend’s apartment where I would be basing camp while bouncing around the north like a gypsy.  I hadn’t seen my family or friends for over three months and the excitement outweighed my jetlag as I lugged my suitcase up a five-floor walk-up in Harlem.  Nothing was going to dampen my joy!

I was in “passegiata” mode- something that took me weeks to get into when I arrived in Italy.  I had mirror experiences with my walking speed in both countries.  Upon arriving in Italy I went for a walk with a friend and while I was bulldozing ahead he lagged behind and eventually we turned to each other in a manner asking what the other one’s problem was.  He said, “This is Italy!  We stroll.  You walk too fast.”

Upon arriving in New York in December, my friend was in a rush for work and said, “ I know you’re in “Italy walking mode”, but remember, this is New York City, baby!  I am going to break you of your new habit!”

Another jarring experience was getting re-used to “manners” back in the United States.  It was hard adjusting to being in New York City after Italy because you go back into old habits especially on the subway.  You do not, and I repeat: Do not make eye contact with people and talking is just completely unacceptable.  A very strange feeling considering my last article for this journal was about speaking to people you do not know.

So being back you notice that no one wants to talk, everyone is in a rush, food and coffee aren’t savoured, but the love remains.  Living abroad has made me appreciate the friendships I have maintained halfway across the world even more.  Going from residing in a house with some of my best friends to being in a foreign country puts into perspective time difference, lack of telephone communication, and the amount of extra work necessary to maintain friendships.

The next few months of reunions proved to be an emotional rollercoaster as I was seeing people who I care very intensely about but knew I would not be able to see again for a very long time.  Breaking away and coming back was a huge hindrance in my desire to return to Italy once the holidays were over.  And this notion was prolonged when I learned there were a few financial obstacles standing in the way.

Thankfully after three months, I was stepping on Italian soil.  Apprehensive about leaving “home” once again, I did not know how to feel about being back in Italy.  Where was the joy and anticipation I had experienced the first time?  I walked into my apartment and it felt as though no time had passed.  I walked through the streets inside the walls that I figured would seem empty and foreign, but my feet knew exactly where they were.  I was afraid I would have lost some of my Italian after not being around anyone who spoke it for three months, and yet it was right there at the tip of my tongue aching to be spoken.  And then I saw my friends.  My wonderful friends who on this rainy March night came into town to make sure I felt at “home”.  And I kept debating what “home” meant in my mind.

They say “home” is where the heart is but mine seems to be all over the place. It is with my parents in Florida, it’s in Connecticut with my best friend of 16 years, with my life long friends and mentors from college who live all over the country, it is amongst my friends and colleagues from music summer programs whose bonds are unshakable, my heart is with the amazing people I met on my travels through Europe.  My heart did not know where to rest and it felt as though there was a huge strain being put on it.  Where would it be happy?  Truly happy and fulfilled and with who?  Who took precedence in my heart?

But as I sat in this little pizzeria while the rain pounded down outside and I laughed with my friends, the questions seemed to melt away.  The jet-lag, the raging emotions that hadn’t subsided yet, the doubts, everything was overpowered by this sense of “home”.  I felt right and I felt fulfilled by the culture, the language, the people I was with and decided to be present in that moment and not to miss those I had to say “goodbye” to only a matter of hours before.  It is difficult, yes, to constantly live in the present.  Impossible even.  But the only thing more difficult is spending your time in the past and future and missing everything in front of you.  The moments, the people, and the feelings that are happening to you in this moment need to be the most important.

And so, I was “home”.  In this moment I finally felt settled and my heart and I felt like we were home…without the quotation marks.