Leaving Home

My Experience with Being Away from Home in Italy There I was, holding onto my suitcase, standing in the airport about to board my plane. I was fifteen years old, going into my sophomore year of high school, and I was going to Italy for ten days with my best friend and a tour group from his school. For months, we had been counting down the days until we leave. The day was finally here and everyone around was full of excitement. Everyone else had been on planes multiple times in their lives. As for me, I had never been on an airplane before and had no idea what to expect about this upcoming eight hour plane ride. This was going to be the first time I was ever away from home. The thought of being away from my family for this long, was a little intimidating to me. I always had the company and support of my family. I never traveled anywhere on my own before. It was not until we were waiting at this point, just minutes away from boarding the plane, that I realized how nervous I actually was.

For the past few months, I was consumed in all the excitement. I was not concerned with any challenges I might have and I had not given any thought to the challenges of this trip. I was not aware of the struggles I would have with communication. I was studying Italian in school, and my family would speak it here and there, I understood a lot but I was not yet fluent in speaking. It was difficult to converse with anyone I came into contact with. I was not able to speak to the merchants when I tried to purchase something or any of the people walking by in the streets. Not being capable of corresponding with the people in this country was something that frightened me.

Although I was having fun with my friends, I missed my family. By the second or third night, I began to feel homesick. I did not want to be away from my family anymore and I wanted to go home. There was nothing I could do about that, though. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t just go home whenever I felt like it.