21 May Florence: The Guide to Self Discovery
As our train nears our destination, it’s impossible to focus on anything other than what is beyond the plexiglass window separating myself and the Tuscan hills between Rome and France.
I remain still in my seat, careful not to budge my fellow passenger’s elbow off the armrest. I find that I’m repeating myself every 2 to 3 minutes. Possibly 4.
I glance down at my reading. Subtraction of weight. I look up and look around, taking note of my classmates feverishly working on their assignments. I turn my head toward the scenery displayed in a fast-forward motion, head back on the rest.
I pick up my camera to forever commemorate this moment as I may never do so again. I’m continuously denied each photo as a stone wall or a large piece of shrubbery with impeccable timing conveniently obstructs my view. It’s as if Italy itself is telling me to stop enjoying the artificial view and start enjoying the real one. Fully engross myself into this moment, tucking away the mental image of the green grassy lands and colossal mountains into the deep core of my cognition, as I may never do so again.
Each ancient landmark or timeless piece of art I have had the pleasure to study and admire, I’ve told myself to stop for at least a minute or so, put down my camera, close my moleskin, breathe, and remember where I am.
Remember what I’m looking at. Why is it significant? What’s the history behind it? Thoughts like these tend to turn into more personal life altering questions such as why these pieces and places pertain to my life. What does any of this have to do with me? What am I really doing here?
Who am I?
I can’t help, but feel so small and insignificant sometimes when I’m next to a perfectly crafted butt of the David statue. I begin to question myself, my own thoughts, and beliefs. As we study Dante and his life when he was exiled from Florence, he lost everything he had in his life, leaving him completely on his own, only left to question his own identity. To walk the streets of Florence and to see somewhat of what Dante had to leave behind, I empathize for him.
While I’m not living in exile away from America, living in Florence has put a new perspective on life for me, and how we value diverse cultures and communicate with those living within the country that is their home. We find ourselves in the most curious of ways, whether that is wondering through an old Medici palace, cooking authentic meals with a refined Italian chef, or trying to map your way through the country to reach the ancient ruins of Pompeii.
Finding yourself is something that comes naturally with time. It isn’t something you can plan or mark in a schedule. It’s something that in my experience in Florence, has sneaked up on me at the oddest times such as when I was drinking my morning cappuccino in a cafe in the middle of Florence, or standing in a train station surrounded by hundreds of people going in a thousand different directions.
Frankly, it’s scary as hell to realize that maybe you’re not the person you’re meant to be yet, but I’ll take my chances.
