CappucciNO

I planned on writing this at a café, accompanied by a cappuccino and the almost intelligible mutterings of the Italians around me. Instead, I am sitting in the anti-mafia park I passed walking to school every day. Today is May Day, one of Rome’s many “most important holidays.” With that, the entire city has shut down and I am left, cappuccinoless in a park I’ve only been to twice.

Italians take any chance they can get to skip work. Stores shut down for lunch and construction workers are more often seen whispering “Ciao bella” to innocent passersby than they are actually constructing anything. Storeowners care much more about their cigarettes than they do you and businessmen take their lunch breaks with a pint of beer.

At first, this, among other things, was very upsetting to me. It seemed like Italy had a complete disregard for the rules. And they do. Coming from the U.S. where everything is compensated for, and then overcompensated for, Italy’s utter indifference was shocking to me. If May Day had occurred during my first month in Rome, I would have huffed and puffed until I was out of breath. Now though, I almost expect it, and it even makes me happy.

Rome has taught me to loosen up, sometimes for the worse, but mostly for the best. In many ways, I was the opposite of Rome before I arrived here. I’ve learned to live in the moment, to not say no because I’m afraid, and to take everything in stride because usually, it doesn’t actually matter.

In a few days, I’ll be back in America, where the rules are made to be followed. Moreover, I’ll be back in America, where there are rules to begin with. Take driving for example. On January 10^th, 2012, I sat in a van with a bunch of likewise wide-eyed girls. We pressed our faces against the windows as we were driven to what would become our homes. It was as if the van didn’t exist. Buses stopped within centimeters of us and Vespas swerved in front and behind. There were no lanes to be followed; everyone went where they needed to go. This was all happening at top speed, and in complete silence. In Los Angeles, a driver will stop short, instigating a symphony of horns and out-the-window yells. Here, it just works. Cars park in the middle of intersections and the Carabineri thinks nothing of it. Scooters are driven on sidewalks if the traffic is bad, and nobody seems to mind. Somehow though, no one gets hurt and everyone gets to their destination. There are no rules, and there are no problems.

This experience has been a vacation from reality in many ways for me. Time used to be everything, and if I wasn’t involved it at least five things on top of classes, I felt I was failing as human being. Here, I don’t have those luxuries. I can’t meet someone at a specific time because who knows when or if the bus will show up. I can only be involved in so much because, lets face it, I speak enough Italian to get me through the day, max. I tried to keep myself busy by blogging and I even promised to write for an online magazine. But Italy got the best of me. I became too caught up with living and learning to focus on catering to others. That may sound selfish, but it has been so necessary. I’ve taken steps back so that I can walk forward with the self-awareness I need to succeed. I’ve learned what a good friend is, but also who to steer clear of. I am here alone, and as someone who hated that more than anything, I needed to learn when fend for myself and when it’s really okay to rely on others. I’ve learned that you only need a basic respect for the rules to get by, that the world will keep spinning if I just take it easy. Success is inevitable with a positive mindset. It may not seem that I’ve learned patience; I still get fussy when the 62 bus makes me wait or the pizza takes too long, but I’ve definitely made progress. I travelled to fifteen cities and six countries, and for at least some of the time, I was by myself. There was no one there to listen to me whine, so short of appearing insane, I just had to keep my mouth shut. I made it through the obstacles of navigation, language, cultural differences, and currency and I did it all by myself.

In short, these past few months have taught me to grow up where immaturity reigned, and grow down where I was getting ahead of myself. No matter how sure of myself I was four months ago, I have been changed for the better. I am who I am because of Italy. I may not have my cappuccino, but I have so much more.