Last week I met a woman named Francesca on the airplane as we flew to Barcelona. She was born in France but moved to Dublin, Ireland simply because she wanted to learn English. Three years later she moved to Barcelona, Spain because she was tired of the weather in Dublin; I can’t say that I blame her.
Just after Barcelona we went to Greece and met some helpful men on the street as they offered to help us look for a screw that had fallen out of my friend’s glasses. It was the first and perhaps only place we have ever been where the locals were willing to get down on their hands and knees in the middle of the side walk simply to help out some funny looking Americans.
Back in September I met a man named Mario who was born in Italy but lived much of his life in the Bronx of New York City. He had just recently moved back to Italy and was helping teach English to Italians. Mario is very smart and probably knows more about American politics than I do, and in September he decided to go to church for the first time.
I also met Valentina while I was teaching English at our local church. She wanted to learn to speak English better because of her job which requires her to travel to many English speaking countries. Latitsia is our cleaning lady at the convent and she hardly knows any English but never fails to offer a friendly “Buongiorno” in the morning as I walk groggily to the shower. While we were gone for fall break she cleaned each of our rooms without even being asked to or needing to for that matter.
Anna is the receptionist for the convent. We see her most often when she gives us mail, we pick up bread orders in the mornings or she makes surprise visits to our floor, we are never really sure what it is she is doing in these instances. But the thing Anna helps us with the most in the convent is letting us in and out of the gate. Friendly waves are exchanged when we pass her window and shortly thereafter she buzzes the gate open, allowing us to exit or enter the convent.
Lucy, a wonderful middle aged Italian woman, is trying desperately to teach us Italian. Our class with her meets twice a week and for many it is a very enjoyable time; for some others not so much. She puts up with our many blunders and questions and patiently repeats and repeats and repeats until we get it right. Laughter is never too far away when Italian class is in session.
As I have spent the last two months in Rome it has become quite evident to me that of all the wonderful experiences I have had and will have, the places I have seen and the monuments I have visited, the thing I will remember the most is the people. Each one of the aforementioned people have added richly to an already overwhelming experience. My hope is that I will be able to make at least half of the impact on their lives as they have made on mine. Whether it is any of those shown above or it is simply the barista’s at the local Bar/Café who smile knowingly every time we enter, the server at the Gelatoria down the street we chuckles when I try to ask for a small cone in Italian or the little Chinese lady who owns the store a 10 minute walk down our street and insists on dressing and redressing us until we find something that we want.
It was not until I felt welcomed by these people and many others that I felt a sense of belonging in Rome. I will never forget the places I have seen, but each place has been made so much more memorable by the welcome I received from the people in it.
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