I think, like a lot of people, I came abroad in search of something: clarity, a change of scenery, or maybe, dare I say, a version of myself that felt a little more certain. The typical romantic outlook on what life could be abroad. There is this quiet belief that picking up your life and placing it somewhere new will make everything fall into place, that things will feel exciting and make sense right away. But it’s a tiny bit more complicated than that — it takes time.
During my first few weeks in Rome, I realized pretty quickly that things don’t just click on their own. The routines I had grown used to back home simply didn’t exist here. Classes didn’t feel as structured and often involved making my way to parks or museums for onsite lessons, buses showed up when they felt like it, and even something as simple as grocery shopping felt different. Things I was used to just didn’t exist here, which made me realize how much I relied on convenience without even noticing it.
And I think a lot of that comes back to something I had to slowly come to terms with, and eventually fell in love with, La Dolce Vita, or the “sweet life.”
Time works differently here in Rome. It centers around savoring life’s pleasures. Being late is normal, sometimes even expected, whether it’s because transportation runs on its own schedule or because people stop to talk when they run into someone they know. Conversations at lunch stretch for hours, and even walking itself feels slower. At first, this felt frustrating, especially coming from a place where everything is structured, scheduled, and fast-paced. But as I started to embrace it, I began to understand that it’s not about things being disorganized, but about not rushing them.
There is a real emphasis on being present and letting moments unfold rather than cutting them short. Even something as simple as coffee reflects this. It can either be a quick espresso at the bar or something that turns into a much longer pause in your day. Sitting at a café is not just about the coffee; it is an experience that is always worth paying extra for. The same goes for stores closing in the middle of the day or how people split bills. It is all part of a different way of valuing time.
And I think that shift in pace also changed how I experienced the city itself. Rome doesn’t really present itself clearly. Walking through places like the Roman Forum, or even just down a regular street, you are not given a full picture, just pieces of what once was. And, in the same way I had to adjust to daily life, I realized I had to approach the city that way, too. I started to understand that Rome isn’t about recognizing everything right away, but about taking the time to piece it together. In many ways, that mirrored my own experience here.
My time in Rome has not followed a clean or predictable path. Moments of excitement have been mixed with confusion, frustration, and uncertainty. At first, I thought that meant everything was somehow going wrong. But eventually, I realized that this is the experience. It is not about finding instant clarity or having some life changing moment right away. It is about learning how to be okay with not having everything figured out, about adapting, becoming more independent, and figuring things out as you go, even when it feels unbelievably uncomfortable.
But in the middle of all of that, things begin to happen that you never could have planned for. You meet people you probably never would have crossed paths with, and they slowly become part of your everyday life. You find yourself in moments that do not feel significant at the time but end up being the ones you remember the most. Like one afternoon, what started as a normal day turned into me on a train to the beach with people I had just met, carrying nothing but my camera and wallet. No plan, no overthinking it. We just went. And now they’ve become a favorite part of my routine here.
So, if there is anything I have taken from being here so far, it is this. Go. Do it. Even if you are unsure, even if it feels uncomfortable, even if you have no idea what you are doing. Especially then. Because you are not going to find a perfectly put-together version of yourself waiting for you on the other side. But you will come back with a better understanding of who you are and what you are capable of.
And that is worth a lot more than clarity. Maybe La Dolce Vita was never meant to be immediate!
This blog was contributed by Ana Agaton, Global Ambassador for Spring 2026. Ana is a College of Liberal Arts Junior participating in an exchange program at AIFS Abroad Global Education Center in Rome, Italy.
