The Beginning of the End
The Beginning of the End
Aside from travelling to Lebanon every year and occasionally Jordan, my trips to Spain and Italy were the first real substantial trips outside the country. Sure my family and I had traveled to islands such as St. Maarten / St. Martin and Aruba, but Italy was the first trip I not only remember, but look back on frequently.
Before
Italy. My aunt was getting married in a little chateau just outside of Rome in 2013, and fortunately for us we were able to travel, which I do realize not many have the opportunity to do, so here’s my shout out to my two amazing parents who have given me the world. Anyways, Italy left me speechless. Sure I was only eleven years old and barely able to focus during a conversation, let alone remember that trip, sure we only spent our time in Rome, but I remember I was so excited to get to go back this summer and relive those memories. Except I won’t, hence Italy becoming the beginning of my end.
In Italy, my family managed to not only hit every single touristy stop in the few short days we spent there, but still celebrated my aunt’s beautiful ceremony of marriage. Family goals, am I right? I recall spending my aunt’s entire wedding thinking that this is exactly where I wanted to be in however many years with a charming and loving new husband. Destination weddings truly are beautiful. During the after party however, I remember going up to my dad in tears asking why “no one loved me” and exclaiming that it was “not fair” that him and my mother had made me so ugly and unlovable. Dear mom and dad… oops? I wish I could tell my eleven year old self to stop worrying so much about the future, but then again, some version of Maria in the future would probably come up to me and repeat that same advice. Again, I am the biggest self hypocrite, but worrying seems to be a constant, yet valid theme nowadays.
After the wedding, we traveled to the heart of Rome where we stayed in a little condo in the city. Over the five-ish days, we checked off every item I had on my list, which was pretty neat.
Eat authentic pizza and pasta (and then have a waiter get appalled at how disgusting tourists are when they ask for shrimp with alfredo)
See the Colosseum (Sad there were no lions tbh)
Spanish steps (why are they called the spanish steps in Italy?)
The Pantheon (accidentally)
Mouth of Truth (where I actually had a slight panic attack over my hand getting bitten off)
That arena area near the Mouth of Truth with all the grass and columns where the horses used to run (Roman Forum)
A cute little market where I could buy knockoff Gucci
The Trevi Fountain (no I did not get a video of me tossing a coin in backwards like Lizzie McGuire)
Vatican and everything there including! Yes! The Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica (no, I did not see the Pope unfortunately)
Altar of the Fatherland (also accidentally)
Unfortunately, while I did see all these amazing sights, I did not fully comprehend just how wonderful everything was. For instance, I wore clothes like a purple halloween cat shirt and orange shorts. Or, I took a picture of La Pieta, or (illegally) the sistine chapel ceiling on my blurry iPod 4, not realizing the amazing history of Michelangelo and his spiteful fresco works.
After
This summer was supposed to be the summer of my life. The summer after senior year and before college does tend to hit differently. I will touch upon more of that in a later blog post, but one aspect of this summer that was really exciting for me was the fact that my mother was taking me back to Italy as my graduation present. (Like I said, pretty great parents). I was absolutely floored. Not only were we going to go back to Rome, but I was finally going to see the canals of Venice, the art and the Duomo in Florence, the massive cathedral in Milan, and maybe I could make that wish in the Trevi fountain this time around.
I did so much extensive research: I planned out trains we could take, what time to get to crowded attractions to ensure the best photos (6am or earlier), which art stops I wanted to visit that were absolutely crucial, outfits to wear (a red polka dot wrap tee). My graduation trip to Italy felt so sweet, so delectable. It was that sugary goodness waiting just out of reach, the reward after the run, the sunshine after the storms of four years of a shitty high school experience. And now it’s gone. My senior year, my opportunity to travel with my family once more before college, the trip of a lifetime where I could possibly ride a cherry red vespa in the hot roman sun.
However, in dire times like this, it is necessary to remain humble. Like I stated earlier, not everyone has the opportunity to travel, and it would be so selfish of me to complain heartily over an experience I have graciously lived before. It would be sickening of me to shake my fists at the world when she is weeping herself for all her citizens. I am so thankful to have even gotten to see a glimpse of this wonderful planet before life as we know it fell apart, and to my parents, these experiences will stay with me forever.
I know this situation isn’t what we wanted, but we will rise again. To Dear sweet Italy, thank you for doing your best, trying your best, being your best. I will see you again mi amore.
Ciao,
Maria
