Today marks my fourth week in Florence. I can't believe I only have two weeks left; it's quite surreal. I'm glad though, although I'll miss it a lot. Six weeks is a long time, and though I've finally grown accustomed to the way of life here, America is my home. America is where the people I love live and where my culture comes from.
It's strange really. Growing up in America I called myself Greek and Italian, and I came here to seek out a bit of my true culture. I had no idea I would come here only to recognize that my culture is at home. My culture is Coca-Cola, black eyed peas, going to New York for "real" Italian food, sweet tea, the Seminoles, backyards, sprinklers, and The Berenstein Bears. I grew up an American, and I will always remain one.
No matter how much America frustrates me with the Tea Party movement, obesity, and pop culture in general, it's still the land of the free and the home of the brave. America is still the place where Harry Gianakopoulos became Harry Young and paved the way for my Papou and five fabulous Aunts and Uncle; it's where where Rose Gusmano taught my father what it means to be a good person. My personal history is in the West, and I'm glad I've finally come to realize that it's something to be proud of.
I'll miss you, Italy, but in fourteen days it will be time to head home.
Baci,
Athena
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