A Rough Start

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The first nights in Avellino were difficult. To say that I was homesick is not sufficient. I had lived abroad before, and loved it. But it had been so long since I had been truly independent. I had become too reliant on my relationship, which was one of the reasons that I left, but I had not prepared myself for how truly alone I would be. There is a thin line between independence and loneliness, and I was terrified that I had crossed it. An even bigger fear was that I had permanently lost a part of myself by relying on someone else for too long.

The second night I walked up and down the streets—there was a fair and vendors were set up selling everything from antiques to toys to children’s books. I was relieved to find that the town is not as small as I had first expected—there is even an Armani here, though this shouldn’t be surprising, as living in a small town in Italy was never an excuse to ignore fashion. I am convinced that young Italian women in the country wear Prada and Dolce while picking grapes. I walked with my headphones on, trying to shake sickness and fear and depression, I felt completely alone, almost invisible. I have felt this way before when I am traveling and oftentimes prefer it. It allows me to observe without interfering and allows a certain freedom of action. That night it just made me feel lonely.

But do not despair, about a week later I will have cemented a friendship with my roommate, developed friendships with two of my older students and be adopted into a close-knit group of Avellinese.

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