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By Laura Hinkle
If you had asked me about this expression a year ago, I would have laughed and told you that I might go to Rome for some ritzy weekend in my 20’s, but that’d definitely be it. However, through an incredibly unexpected (and now that it’s behind me, sad but also so crazy it strikes me as funny) turn of events, I needed to leave the Italian family I was au pairing for this summer in Milan. What was supposed to have been a three-month gig ended with me booking a train ticket to Rome after a mere nine days, frantically packing up my belongings in the middle of the night, and running through crowded streets with my pink and purple suitcase, muttering desperate prayers under my breath that the parents wouldn’t catch me or come after me. I barely caught my train out of the city in time, and almost missed my layover because I had to switch platforms last minute. Honestly, it’s a miracle that I, lacking street smarts and having little experience with public transportation, even noticed I was at the wrong platform.
I also accidentally got on the first-class train car to Rome, and had an absolutely humiliating experience when the conductor came around and noticed that my ticket was not, in fact, first-class. My next twenty minutes were spent stumbling through car after car of people as I looked for a seat. This entire time, the train was already flying through the hills and valleys of the Italian countryside, so (of course) I’m smacking people with my suitcase as I go by. My poorly pronounced “Scusa!” did not make them any happier, I assure you.
Honestly, my temporary relocation to Rome was anything but easy. I was forced to start all over in a city where I knew no one and thus had no one close to my age to travel with. However, all my struggles made me so much more appreciative of my friends and family back home. The second I got lonely for a familiar face or voice people were there for me. I’ve discovered I have friends willing to stay on FaceTime with me so I don’t fall asleep as I’m desperately packing at three in the morning. I’ve seen my parents, in literally the span of two days, connect me with kind Americans across Italy I can stay with. I received call after call from worried friends wondering what city I was in and if I’d gotten kidnapped (everyone was so dramatic; the mafia was simply not interested in a washed-up babysitter).
Just as importantly, I truly found a strength within me that I didn’t know existed. I learned how to handle myself in a country where my language was limited to basic greetings and enough vocabulary to order a coffee. I learned to push my fear to the back of my mind and remain calm in the moment, especially when navigating foreign cities. I found joy in the smallest moments—waking up to a view of rambling vineyards, walking in the warm sunshine along a secluded cobblestone path, giggling with a friendly gelateria employee because she recognized me from the day before.
After traveling in Rome for a few weeks, I made my way back to the United States. Although spending ten hours in the freezing Newark airport was not the ideal welcome home, it gave me time to reflect on my journey (and go to Dunkin Donuts at least five times because I’d missed iced coffee so much). Being abroad alone was challenging, scary, and uncomfortable, but it forced me to grow in more ways than I could possibly have imagined. I know that regardless of the path my future holds, ALL roads lead to Rome. I’ll find my way back to the Eternal City someday.
Laura Hinkle is a McConnell Scholar in the Class of 2022. She is studying political science, history, and social change at the University of Louisville.
Commentary presented here is not necessarily a reflection of the McConnell Center. Thoughts are those of the author.