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Christmas in Italy
"Are you sure you want to go?" my mother called after me. "You can still turn back if you're scared!" I rolled my eyes as I walked through the security check. Of course, I wanted to go. Ever since Francesco, an Italian exchange student who I had befriended during my junior year at Flora, had invited me to spend Christmas with him in Italy, I had felt nothing but excitement. Sure, I was a little nervous about traveling internationally without my parents, but I shrugged it off as pre- trip jitters. As I left my parents in the Columbia airport, I envisioned me, Sydney Kornegay, a 10- day exchange student, venturing into an unknown country armed with little more than my Italian- English dictionary. Onward, intrepid Explorer!! Twelve hours later, I was calling home. It wasn't navigating the Newark airport that scared me. I wasn't afraid of flying alone. But I was terrified of business class. I always fly economy. This trip, however, my ticket had been bought through a special Frequent Flyer Miles deal, landing me a seat in business and consequently, a pass to the VIP Lounge. But as I stood in front of the formidable steel walls labeled "Special Admittance Only," my former gusto was rapidly dissolving. What was in there, I wondered. Once inside, could I leave if I wanted to? Would there be bathrooms? After a few passes in front of the doors, I finally decided to enter. The noisy Newark airport gave way to a business class oasis, complete with big screen TVs, comfortable chairs, and best of all, clean restrooms. "Can I help you, ma'am?" asked the receptionist in a thick European accent. I froze, confidant I'd been caught and would be kicked out. She knows I am an imposter, I thought, an economy class passenger amidst a group of Million Milers. But I showed her my ticket, and she waved me on. Needless to say, that out- of- place feeling accompanied me throughout my two- hour layover in Newark and on the flight as well. Is this how Francesco felt as an exchange student, I wondered, out of his comfort zone and unsure of what to do? The steel doors to the Crown Royal were daunting enough. What was it like for Francesco, entering a room full of teenagers who didn't speak his language? By the time we landed in Milan, and I was greeted with Francesco's familiar " Ciao! " I had gained a whole new respect for my friend. The respect would grow over the next ten days as I experienced Christmas in Italy and numerous occasions of feeling just a bit out- of- place.
(Next week: Touring Milan)
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