Studying abroad with an unaffiliated international school is a unique experience. With Suffolk’s Madrid campus now being closed, studying abroad will probably look a bit different now for students. 

Back home in Boston, there is nothing I hate more than the MBTA. It’s always a race, chaotic and crowded and I’m always itching to get off of the T. Boston is the epitome of rushed city life. I hadn’t realized just how impatient the culture was until I came to Europe. And chaotically rushed is how I felt coming off the plane at Florence airport. 

I was extremely jet lagged. It was only my second plane ride ever, and I was really feeling the effects. The idea of being in Italy was far too great for me at that moment. I was starting to feel an overwhelming sense of doom at customs when I realized there was no turning back. 

As the taxi made its way to the Hotel Croce di Malta, it all became real. I teared up, looking out the window. I was finally on the Grand Tour, my dream. I thought of my mom and my grandma, realizing that without them, I wouldn’t have such a deep connection to our Sicilian heritage or the choice to study in Italy at all. 

My first walk on the streets was a hazy dream. Every step felt like walking into a living canvas of history and art. The Basilica of Santa Maria Novella greeted me, its presence breathtaking. A man playing guitar stood singing “Annie’s Song” by John Denver with a thick Italian accent, a crowd quickly gathered. 

This was my first taste of Florence, and I knew I was right where I should be. Followed soon by my first actual taste of real Italian food, spaghetti ragù (meat sauce) and so much gelato (nutella flavored). So fresh, so delicious, the food is heaven here.  

Exploring Florence felt like stepping through a gallery of human achievement. Was Brunelleschi’s Duomo really over 700 years old? There were so many questions about the deep-rooted history in each wobbly cobblestone step that I actually couldn’t wait for classes to start.

Classes themselves have been both extremely nerve wracking and exciting. My professors are intimidatingly smart and well-experienced (their cool accents don’t help), and all I want to do is impress them. 

Yes, school is still school here and even though every weekend feels like a vacation, Monday still rolls around and I have to get to work. I’m using Google Classroom at Lorenzo de’ Medici, which I can honestly say is a nice change from Canvas.

Balancing school and pleasure abroad is difficult, I won’t lie, but I just try to romanticize studying here like I would back home. It’s hard to be unmotivated when reading at the Cinema Odeon, a theater in a library or at a cute cafe down the street with the perfect view of the Duomo. Slightly distracted maybe, but always inspired. These daily things make me feel like I really belong here as a student. 

While sightseeing, I didn’t know at the time that I was standing where the great Dante once stood near the Ponte Vecchio. Where he saw Beatrice on the bridge and fell in love. The Italian dream was becoming much clearer, and I was finally starting to understand why writers come to stay here. 

Every landmark here feels like it was made to inspire generations of young students. Never in my life had I experienced such art in its truest form. Giant and powerful, Michealangelo’s David was the embodiment of strength and beauty. The epidemic of tourists crowded at his feet, but I found solace in David’s look. 

Each moment has inspired me, and I’ve definitely caught the travel bug. The city is vibrant and timeless, with hoards of people and so much to see. At night, it transforms into a different world, a peaceful getaway as the elegant Arno River gently reflects the softly lit streets. 

I’m finally starting to put my Apple Maps down more and more, and with each passing day, I feel less like a tourist. I cook meals, do my laundry, sort the trash, visit markets, discover little parks and attend my classes. This is my life for the next three months, my new normal. 

I’ve embraced the slowness—learning how to drink, eat and walk like a true Florentine, taking one day at a time. I adore the slow life and one day I hope to have mastered it. I still have so much more to learn studying here; I mean I’m still trying to grasp the concept of an aperitivo. 

Yes, I miss home—air conditioning, dryers, ice water in my Hydro (they don’t believe in ice here), bagels, Dunkin’, my cats and so much more. I miss the familiarity of everything. But on a recent 30-minute tram ride to Borgo San Lorenzo, I was reminded of why I chose this journey. 

Watching the serenity of the rolling hills pass by with the scattered hidden streams felt like therapy. An open endless magical world was just right outside the city center. I had never experienced such peacefulness. Now every tram I take here is a reminder of how lucky I am. I never want to get off the ride. 

My biggest tip so far: Don’t order a cappuccino after 2 p.m. in Italy (you will be shunned).