Student Journals: AIFS in Rome, Italy

Ryan Donnelly
Providence College
Richmond in Rome, Italy

Reflections From Abroad:
A Day in the Life of an American Student in Rome

It has been over five months since I last stepped foot on the grounds of Providence College, that wonderful place that I have spent the past two years of my life affectionately calling "home." From where I am sitting now, I am precisely 4,167 miles from you, fellow student, as you sit somewhere along the United State’s east coast, attempting in vain to wake yourself over a cup of Starbucks coffee after a long night of hopping between local pubs.  For me it is no longer morning, but late afternoon, and I am quietly sitting on the porch of a little house, looking out onto the equally quiet street of Vicolo del Cinque. I am in the center of Rome, Italy, and this has become my new home.

Walking to class each morning I pass down narrow cobblestone roads framed by old family-run bakeries and restaurants.  The owners of these shops have been awake far longer than I, vigorously preparing their shops and themselves for the coming day. As I cross over the 700-year-old footbridge of Ponte Sisto, I glance to my left and catch a glimpse of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica in the early morning sun, majestically looming over the row of trees lining each side of the Tiber River.  Most of my classes are merely a few blocks past Ponte Sisto in Centro Storico, the historical center of Rome.

If I have a break in between my classes, I will stop for a quick panino or a dish of spaghetti alla carbonara in one of the thousands of tiny restaurants speckled throughout the city. Although I have found a few places to be particularly good, I try to be adventurous and search for new spots. The process of exploring the city in search of new and exciting restaurants is only dampened by the sheer risk one must take just to safely cross the street through lawless Roman traffic; Vespas weave across street lines and between cars freely; not to mention that stopping at red lights is about as unfashionable (and seldom seen) as wearing baseball caps. 

At the end of my day, I usually stop in to say hello to an old grocer named Antonio, who has come to know my roommates and me through our ever-so-frequent food shopping at his store. He always greets me with a warm “Ciao Raimondo” (pronounced rye-moon-doe), and a hearty laugh.  Antonio doesn’t speak any English and he never fails to get enjoyment from seeing me struggle to speak in Italian to him.  I earned my strange nickname when, one day, I accidentally called him Anthony. I was instantly corrected and then given an explanation that "Anthony" is the English equivalent of his name, but definitely not his name. From that day forth he has referred to me by his own nickname, a made-up Italian equivalent of Ryan.

Although my travels have taken me far and wide across Europe and into North Africa, the unique beauty and charm of Rome has made me question ever wanting to leave. Living in Rome, as Nathaniel Hawthorne once wrote, makes life seem like “the present moment is pressed down or crowded out, and our individual affairs and interests are but half as real here as elsewhere.” Whether I am gazing at the famous monuments, dining in the delicious restaurants, or conversing with the people, I am conscious of the surreal qualities of Rome, and I’m lucky to call it my home.