Chapter 4: Not a City Girl

I always knew I wouldn’t like living in the city, but I felt it wasn’t fair for me to say that without trying it first. It turned out I was right. I think it’s the noise that bothers me the most.

There was never a moment of silence in Rome. Even from my apartment bedroom, the sounds of the streets would seep in, which was nice during the day and in the evening to open up our shutter windows and listen to hustle and bustle. There was a man who played his accordion at the restaurant across the street from us every night from 7 to 9. We would open up the windows of our kitchen and listen to him as we cooked and ate our own dinners. But the thing is, the streets of Rome NEVER sleep. During the day street vendors holler at tourists and Italian men holler at women. Mopeds and cars rev their engines and honk at one another. People swarmed bellow until all hours of the night, and then around three am after all the bars have closed and the party animals have wandered home the birds would come out. The birds in

Rome are not typical birds, they are psychotic. They make this horrific tridactyl sound and fight one another for street scraps. They do this until the earthshaking sound of hundreds of pounds of glass being picked up and slammed into the back of a garbage truck around five am scare them all away.

On top of all of this, I also was living with nine girls. Some would come home at four in the morning and stumble about the apartment breaking glasses laughing and knocking things over as they went. Julie was constantly fighting with her boyfriend on the phone and Hannah and her boyfriend are constantly competing to win the trophy for worlds loudest sex. Alarms go off all morning long and someone is always banging around pots in the kitchen or playing music.

The bathroom doors don’t lock so I can’t even take a shit in peace.

Noise is a constant in the city. It was getting to the point I couldn’t hear myself think and, I was becoming a stranger to that voice in my own head. On top of that it is so crowded and busy all the time, it sucks the life out of me. I remember when I first got back from the

Adirondacks, my family was waiting for me when the bus made it back to campus. After we hugged and got my pack from the trunk, we decided to go get lunch. On the car ride there I completely shut down. My mother was asking me questions about the trip, while out the window cars were buzzing by, my phone that I hadn’t seen in a month was buzzing uncontrollably, and the radio was playing some new hit song. My mind had gotten used to the softer subtler noises of the woods and it had forgotten how to block out the sounds that weren’t relevant to me. A pain shot through my head, as if my entire brain had cramped up. I threw my hands over my ears and put my head in my lap. I thought I could just jump right back into society, I grew up in it, I had existed in the modern world before, but it wasn’t something I could just switch back on. It felt like it does when you are sitting in a dark room and someone switches the light on all of the sudden. My body and mind needed more time to ease and adjust into a state of go go go.

I felt that same way when moving to the city. I was able to push through it at first, but I was losing stamina fast. I needed to find a safe place and I needed to find it soon. I have always been someone who requires alone time, and that was extremely hard to find in my new lifestyle. For starters I lived with nine girls, two of which shared my bedroom. Monday to

Wednesday I was in class from nine to five and then early Thursday morning I was off to a new country where I was often staying in multiple person hostels. However, this weekend was the first time I had nothing on my calendar. Zoey was off to Croatia and Rachel had her family in town for the weekend and was off doing things with them. I was finally alone. Well, as alone as one can be while surrounded by 2.87 million strangers. It wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it was going to be. There was still the noise and the crowds. I didn’t want to sit in my stuffy apartment, but I didn’t want to go out in the streets with the herds of tour groups blockading the road, the street venders trying to reach into people pockets, and the restaurant hosts hollering at you to come eat. Looking down at it from my bedroom window it all just looked unsafe. I did some research on the quietest places to go in Rome and discovered a little park called Villa Borghese. It was a forty-five-minute walk from my apartment, not including the number of times I was going to get lost on the way. I debated it in my head for a while. “What if

I walk all that way and it is just as loud and crowded as everywhere else? What if I can’t even find it? What if it is exactly what you need right now? What else are you going to do today? Ok, let’s do this.”

Into my backpack I put a blanket, a journal and pen, my two-liter water bottle that I carried with me everywhere, a row of crackers, and a jar of what Italians shamefully try to pass off as peanut butter. I was ready to go. It was as hot and crowded as always outside. “Scusi scusi” I mumbled as I forced my way through masses of sweaty limbs. “No grazi” I said firmly to approaching street vendors before they even had the chance to speak. I was a girl on a mission.

I decided to try to take a bus for the last stretch of the mission, and for the first time ever I had actually gotten onto the right bus. There was no room to sit but plenty of standing space, I felt comfortable. But comfort isn’t something that lasts long in Rome. At the next stop a heard of large sweaty blond-haired boys packed into the bus. I was yet again submerged in strangers’ sweaty limbs. It didn’t take long for me to get motion sick. But like the train station, there was nowhere to go. A woman in the seat I was standing over held a bag with brand new Lewies

Viton shoes. “Definitely not there” I thought to myself. I turned to my right. A priest stood shoulder to shoulder with me. I looked up towards heaven, “Would you be mad?” I asked in a subtle prayer. “Yeah okay, I’ll hold it back” I decided not waiting for an answer. I only had two stops to go. We hit a bump and one of the large sweaty guys behind me put his hand up to brace himself. He was in a cut off tee and the BO just defused like a gas leak, filling our little tin box on wheels. When we made it to my stop, I pushed my way off with a few other strangers. I took a deep breath in, scanning my surroundings, located the nearest trash can, ran to it, and let loose. I sat down on a nearby bench and put my head in my lap to allow all of my senses calm down. That’s when I noticed it, or rather the lack of it. It was gone. The car horns, the yelling, the laughing, the chit chat, it was all gone. I looked around, there were some people, but I was no longer fighting for space. I was sitting at the entrance, there was a long straight path lined with trees and benches in front of me. I took a big swing of my water, ate a few crackers to settle my stomach and then began walking. I passed bikers, joggers, families out for a stroll, and couples having picnics. There were fountains and statues none of which I knew whether they were famous or not, nor did I really care. I found a tree that I decided I liked, I laid down my blanket and I sat under it. I pulled everything out of my backpack and laid it out in front of me; crackers, water, “peanut butter”, pen, and journal. I wasn’t ready to start writing yet. I still needed a moment to settle into my own thoughts. It was the first time I could hear them in over a month. I reflected on all of the things I had done so far. I thought about the

Amalfi, Cinque Terre, and Oktoberfest.

…

(from Chapter 7) The train was made entirely out of glass and went straight up the mountain. We sat in the front, while I guess technically the back, but faced the glass so we could look down as we climbed. It felt like we were on a roller coaster. I was waiting for them to drop us at any second and go plummeting back towards the earth like the Tower of Terror. But we didn’t, we just climbed and climbed until we reached the top and got off. The clouds were just as thick up there as they were from the ground. We could barely see right in front of us, let alone the “best view in all of Interlaken”. In hindsight we should have known this would be the case considering how cloudy of a day it was, but screw hindsight he’s a pompous know it all.

We walked around as Zoey complained, in her defense things really weren’t going our way that day and we were all starting to feel a little discouraged. Then the most amazing thing happened. A gust of wind came through and all of the sudden it was nothing but clear skies. We practically had the look out to ourselves, which was perfect for Zoey’s to get the Instagram picture of a lifetime, I even had Rachel take a few pictures of me too. We could see the entire city of Interlaken from up there. As I sat on the edge of the platform with my legs dangling over the mountain side, I thought back to my first trip Tarraza de Gimicuolo in Rome and how scared and overwhelmed I was feeling that first week, and how at ease it put me to just change up my perspective. I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to navigate just the city of Rome itself, yet there I was four months later having navigated myself all over Europe. I vowed in that moment to never underestimate myself again. I felt the fear, the distrust, and the doubt I had been living with for the past three years pour out of my lungs and get whisked away in the wind on that mountain top. Sure, I had plenty of hiccups in my journeys, plenty of things went wrong, not everyone was good and not everywhere was safe. I was probably lost more than not, and even when I was going the right way, I was never really sure. But that’s the thing about life, we will never have all of the answers, we will never really know. Life is a constant cycle of learning and unlearning, of growth and change. Yes, I had come a long way to get to that mountain top, I had learned so many lessons to reach that point, but at 20 years old I wasn’t even halfway through life, I still had so much to learn and so many versions of myself to outlive. I was just getting started. But that’s not a bad or discouraging thing. Do you know how boring youth would be if we started with all of the answers? If all we did was make the right decisions and never got lost? I know I wouldn’t have a story to tell if that was the case.

“Hey, Lexi, I think we’re getting pretty hungry. Do you think you’ll be ready to head back down soon?” Rachel asked standing behind me. I forgot Zoey and Rachel were on that mountain top with me. I wondered how long I had been sitting there. I wondered at what point they came up and stoop behind me. I was lost in a thought and had drifted out of existence for just a moment.

We went back down the same way we went up. This time a kid, no older than 3 sat in his mother’s arms in front of us. His mouth hung open and he had a look of absolute amazement in his eyes, as if he was seeing the world for the very first time. Watching him I thought to myself, “I feel ya, kid”. We went to a little bar for lunch, it was just after two in the afternoon. I had a beer and a burger. Rachel and Zoey had cider and Mac and Cheese. I was so excited for my burger, I had been craving one for so long, but there is something about a cheeseburger in Europe that just doesn’t hit the same way. It was good it really was, buts there is just nothing like an American

Cheeseburger. We walked around the little shops for the rest of the day.

We all agreed on doing a nice fondue dinner that night. I personally am not a fan of fondue, but I couldn’t go to Switzerland and not try it. Also, to be fair, I had only ever had it once, and it was at a subpar American fondue restaurant. A group of my friends had picked it as our dinner spot before junior prom. I had suggested Arby’s, but I had gotten outvoted. The meal made me sick, considering I am lactose intolerant and ate an entire pot of cheese I probably should have seen that coming. Also, if I judged my opinion of cheeseburgers biased off how they are made in Europe I would think I didn’t like cheeseburgers.

We picked a place not far from our hostel that our group leaders had recommended.

Zoey asked us all to split the vegetarian option which, for the first time ever, didn’t bother me.

We enjoyed the dinner laughing as we accidently dropped things into the cheese and tried to dig them out with our little medal utensils. We kept accidently speaking in Italian to our waiter and he joined in. It was a beautiful night in Switzerland, just cold enough that we walked close to one another with our arms wrapped around ourselves but not so cold that we were uncomfortable. We decided not to go out that night since Zoey and Rachel had their group hike and I had my make-up paragliding appointment early that morning.

I had spent the entire month before this trip trying to decide what activities I was going to do in Switzerland. When we signed up for the trip it came with a whole packet of options. I was still in class when that email came and by the time I had made it back to the room Zoey and

Rachel were already signed up for paragliding and the day hike.

“This is what we signed up for, here want me to do it for you?” said Zoey sitting over my shoulder as I pulled up the email on my computer. She was actually trying to be helpful and inclusive which I appreciated but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to just follow the group.

“I actually want to look through the options for a little before I decide” I responded politely.

“Like to do by yourself?” Zoey said as if it was the most outrageous idea in the world.

“Yeah, I saw kayaking as an option, and I think I might do that instead.” Zoey shrugged and went back to her side of the room, or I guess I should say small third of the room that was really designed for two. I sat up almost all night scrolling back and forth trying to decide what I really wanted. My fears of missing out battled my desires to be an independent. Then I called my mother.

“Hi mom.”

“Sweetheart what’s wrong isn’t it like 3 am there? Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

With the time change it was only 9 at night where my mother was, but I should have known it would still worry her. Most people can only see the world from where they are and what’s going on around them, but I swear my mother must only be able to see the world from where her kids are and what is going on around them. I’m not sure if she has ever had a selfish thought in her life, and I am certain she hasn’t had a selfish action since the day I was born. It’s more than just putting the interest of your child first; the other option doesn’t even occur to her. “Nothing’s wrong mom. I’m just trying to decide what I want to do in Switzerland next weekend.” Guilt and shame flooded my veins as I spoke these words, infiltrating my heart.

There I was in my apartment in Rome where I had been living for the past three months, all funded by my parents, calling my mother, a woman who has never even been to Europe, sending her into a panic, because I couldn’t decide which extreme activity I wanted to do with the extra money she sent me so I could go to Switzerland.

“Hold on, let me get my computer. Send me the options.” She said without even considering herself, without a single feeling of anger or jealousy. Truly and honestly excited for me and wanting to give more. “Okay I have it up. What were you thinking?”

“Well, I for sure want to paraglide, but I can’t decide what I want to do on the second day” I said scrolling back and forth between my options.

“Oh, thank god, I was afraid you were going to say skydive. I think Paragliding is a much better option.”

“Yeah, well I’ve already been sky diving and I remember it hurt my ears so badly and there isn’t really much health care here. I’m also going to want to have more time to take in the view and I think paragliding will be better for that.”

“I agree completely. So, what else were you looking at? Kayaking looks right up your alley” she said knowing me better than anyone in this world.

“Yeah, I was definitely considering that one.” I was almost embarrassed to give my reasoning for not having already signed up for it.

“What’s the hesitation then? What else are you thinking about?” “Well, Zoey and Rachel signed up for the day hike one,” I said leaving it at that, knowing she would be able to follow my train of thought from there.

“Oh, I see. Well, if you want to go with your friends and do the hike, I’m not going to tell you not to. But if you are worried about missing out, don’t. You will have more than enough time with them, and doesn’t Zoey drive you crazy anyway?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. We will probably spend the entire time on the hike taking photos anyway.”

“Exactly. It’s not like you to just follow the crowd. You never have trouble doing your own thing.” I was silent. That statement hit me hard. She was right, as usual. I have always been one to make my own trail. So why was I having such a hard time doing my own thing now?

I thanked my mom, said goodnight, and hung up the phone. I sat on the kitchen windowsill for the rest of that night, one leg hanging over the vacant cobblestone street below where the birds were fighting for scraps in the alley the other hovered over our dirty kitchen floor. I reflected on my last few months in Europe, where I had traveled what I had done and seen. Then the question occurred to me, when was the last time I was alone? I lived in an apartment with nine girls, I shared a room with two, I lived in a city of thousands, and I went to school every day with hundreds. I had gotten used to constantly being around people, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But had I forgotten how to be on my own?

I walked over to my computer and signed myself up for kayaking. Not just because it was what I wanted to do, which it was, but because I needed to do it. It was time to find my independence, to rediscover my adventure.