Every day I walk to class with the biggest smile on my face. No matter how tired I am when I wake up, the moment I step out of the front door it all melts away. With the sun on my skin and fresh city air on my face my morning starts with a loud “Good Morning” from Rome. The city bustle isn’t at all like the noises form an American city. Yes, you have the beeping horns and screaming ambulances, but it is nothing like the buzz of New York City. In my opinion, its less like noise and more like a melody. A very cluttered tune that plays in my head every morning. It’s beautiful in its own noisy way.
My 15-minute walk to class is accompanied by various conversations in many different languages. This morning I counted 4 different languages. This is not only because Rome is such a touristy place, but also a very diverse city. Many people have been moving from different parts of the world to call the beautiful country of Italy their home. As I walk past the street vendors I hear the men selling fake designer bags speaking in Hindi. I hear the British tourists behind me speaking in proper English. I also heard a family speaking in Afrikaans as they got onto the tram by my apartment. But mostly I am surrounded by the beautiful murmurs of Italian.
As I walk down the busy main street of Trastevere I hear the zooming cars, screeching bus breaks, and the ticking timers of the crosswalks. Various conversations float around as I pass by the local cafés. Right at the end of my block I pass by a homeless man. He sits with a suit jacket old t-shirt and shorts. After a month of passing each other daily he nods towards me and says “Buongiorno”. He is one of the many familiar faces I have come to know in my first month. It is funny to me. Although we never truly met, these strangers are a part of my beautiful Italian morning. They add something special to my experience and my journey here.
As I turn off the main drag the ambiance starts to change. Turning down a small cobble stone side street hides you away from the busy city street noise. Shaded by the tall crooked buildings, the city starts to sing a different melody. Conversations are louder, locals yell from window to window discussing their morning activities. Carts full of fresh fruits and vegetables bump along the cobble stones as they make their way to the mini markets. I hear cash registers dinging as the locals pick up their morning deli meats and cheeses. The florist fills his bucket at the waters picket that is constantly flowing. Sometimes, if I am lucky, there will be a musician gracing the streets with the sounds of authentic Italian music. Many time I have seen a man playing the accordion. What a treat! There is no better way to walk the streets of Italy!
I don’t ever want to take my walk to class for granted. It is something I look forward to every day, and I know that one day this is something I am going to miss terribly. I don’t want to miss out on a second of it while I am here. So, I will continue to walk to class with my ears and eyes opened wide, with a big smile across my face, because this is the soundtrack to my life.