I've been in Italy now for around ten days, and the first five sucked because I kept telling myself that this wasn't where I belong.
It isn't my language.
It isn't my culture.
Why am I so tied to a country where I don't belong?
This kind of mentality, as you might imagine, does not a pleasurable trip make.
But as I walked along the narrow vicoli, I wondered what makes me feel like I belong somewhere.
Is it knowing the ins and outs of the culture? Being born with the language? Having family and friends around?
And I wondered if it was all just a copout -- a way for me not to try to integrate or to make an effort to belong in my own way.
I realized that it was less about where I was and more about me.
What if we belong where we want to belong?
Because if you want it badly enough, don't things eventually fall into place?