Recently, I broke up with the United States. After a 20 (almost 21!) year long, committed relationship with only one brief break (to test my feelings for China) it was time to move on. Comfortable relationships are fun, don’t get me wrong. The United States understands me on a level that I’m not sure my new love, Italy, will ever be able to. The U.S. knows that I want a big cup of coffee in the morning, the bus to come on time, and for stores to be open at the reasonable hour of 1 p.m.

Nevertheless, I have to hand it to Italy for catching onto my love for cute side streets, spiraling ivy on brick buildings, intense shots of caffeine, and carbs, lots and lots of carbs.

Any change in life, especially with relationships (particularly those with one’s home country) brings a necessary adjustment of the body and mind, and traveling abroad for the next 3 months has been no exception to this rule. Upon my arrival in the country of wine and pasta, I noticed that a little thing that we in the Unites States like to call “punctuality” is simply optional and frequently opted out of.

As a person who is consistently 30 minutes early to class, gets anxiety when leaving for a destination a little later than planned, and thinks being on time is being late, this aspect of Italian culture has been quite a challenge for me.

On one particular day, as I set out for my first on-site class, Art in Rome,  the bus simply did not come for 45 minutes. I had initially left campus before 8 o’clock for the 9:30 class with the intentions of being early enough to grab a cappuccino before the lesson began. However, standing there at the stop with about 20 other Rome Center students, I started to realize that this simply was not going to be possible. 10 minutes passed and I was still optimistic, but once we hit the 20 minute mark I became frantic to get on a bus. One after another the wrong bus passed, and I contemplated jumping on one, despite not knowing where it was headed, in an effort to simply go somewhere, anywhere.

Eventually, after almost an hour, the correct bus (the 990) turned the corner to the stop and the crowd of us began cheering at the sight of our salvation. We were all about ten minutes late to our class at the Roman Forum and Colosseum, but our teacher was very understanding, as the bus situation in Rome is a bit spotty. I realize now how thankful I am for the CTA in Chicago and will likely never complain about waiting 10 minutes for the Red Line to come ever again.

So yes, this break up has been very hard to do. I miss the familiarity and reliability of the United State’s public transportation system, and I certainly miss Chicago, the city that probably will always have my heart. Yet, Rome, thus far, has been an exhilarating adventure I would not give up for anything. What this new love may bring, we have yet to really know. Time however, time will tell of all the excitement to come.

Until next time, ciao!