For the past two months, while I was immersing myself in a brand new culture with new food, language, and etiquette, I often found my mind wandering back into the past longing to go home. I was always tempted by the quick click of a button to book a flight back home, find my own cultural foods around the vicinity of Viterbo, and listen to the tunes that brought me right back home; this was all because I was unwilling to get the full Italian experience, put myself out there, and try new things. 

I was daunted by the idea of losing the things that bring me comfort and remind me of home. Even in the two suitcases that I had carried with me across the world, I brought as many comfort clothing, books, and snacks as the scale at the airport would allow. I was afraid that the immersion into a new culture – a new life – would mean to sacrifice the culture and home I have been building up for years.

The truth is our cultural and heritage roots are so deeply embedded in us, that even if we try so hard to push it away from us, or how far we move away from “home” it will always be a part of who we are. Home is more than where we live; it’s the people, memories, food, music, and cultural influences that bring meaning into our lives. “Home” starts with ourselves, our identity, and how we see ourselves in this world, and slowly, with the new places we travel to, cultures we experience, the new dishes we try, languages we speak, and memories we create, help us gain more of what seems to be home to us, ultimately enriching us. It creates more stories for us to share and broadens our version of what “home” means to us. 

More often than not, I like to think of each individual metaphorically as an onion. At the core, it is the person we are born as, which we can not change, but what we can change is what we decide to do with the life we are given. As we progress through life and encounter new people, experiences, and places, we add new layers. But does that mean that the core that serves the basis of holding the onion together, is gone? No. Just like that, I think of myself as an onion; I like to think of my year abroad in Italy as an addition to the many layers that I have accumulated, helping me to broaden my version of what home means to me. 

My first two months of studying abroad in Italy have taught me that home isn’t just one place, person, or thing, but rather, it is endless and interpretive. Sometimes being in a state of “home” creates a reluctancy to get out and explore, and for people like me, it was time to leave the place I called home for sixteen years of my life and to get out there and form new cultural views, bonds, and a new layer to what I call home.