It’s been difficult for me to process how I feel about my ongoing adventure in Italy (note: feelings are hard, you guys). Before leaving, so many people were asking how excited I was to be making such a huge change, and, in those moments, I think I kind of had to lie.
Sure, intellectually, I couldn’t help but think about being excited. I mean, this is a pretty amazing adventure, for better or worse (definitely better). For me though, I haven’t felt it in the same way, at least not in anticipation. Heck, I’m sure I was hiding my own fears, insecurity and trepidation more than anything else.
Before leaving, there seemed to still be so much to do: how could I think of anything but what I was up to in the moment? I had to give notice at work; try to enjoy the holidays; get passport photos for applications; fill out forms; stand in lines; return the photos after their rejection; muddle through an Embassy in the worst part of winter in one of the worst places in Canada for winter; keep working as much as I could to the very last minute; get rid of most of my things; pack the rest; drive across-province in a small car with a large heavy load in an ice storm, dragging chains, swinging trailer, and traction loss included; find space in my parents’ garage, since I still have too much stuff; then see everyone I know in the span of a week to abate the guilt of leaving them all behind. Finally, once here I’ve had the past several days of bureaucratic silliness to contend with, as well as jet lag, and my desperately trying to understand anything and everything.
However, as I was sitting in church this morning, still not understanding a thing and allowing my mind to wander, I had a moment to reflect on this past week, and it hit me: I live in Italy!
How cool is that!? It’s like, a whole other country, with a different language, and a very different culture. Never mind the history! Walking through the city centre yesterday Antonella pointed out all the ancient frescoes repurposed into exterior walls and the difference between ancient bricks intermixed with just really old bricks, as the people of the area built, and rebuilt, their city over and over again. If you pay close enough attention you can really feel that Brescia itself is alive, and it’s grown alongside, and even in spite of, its people. That’s pretty exciting. Being here is exciting.
I like to think I cut a pretty cool figure, at least on the outside. In times like now, however, it’s hard for me not to contain my excitement and truly relish all that I have, and all that’s brought me here. While for many around me, this stuff is literally old news, for me there’s so much to explore, so much to see and discover, and so many people and places to encounter!
Not only is all of this around me something to be very excited about, but it’s all something to be very grateful for. I’m grateful for the fantastic hospitality (government officials notwithstanding) of my extended Italian family; I’m grateful for all my friends who have helped support me and shape my sense of adventure; I’m grateful my own family and loved ones who were happy to see me go; most of all, I’m simply grateful for the opportunity to be somewhere else, where every moment is an adventure. So, uhh, thanks!
UPDATE: One week later, after a bit of a proper vacation, I’m still here! The excitement hits me every now and again, as the more I learn, the more I understand how much more there is to discover. Wee!
A Nix in Brixia 